#like they don’t even look up from what they’re doing

[elliesbambi]

warnings. farm hand!ellie, farmer’s daughter!reader, dom!ellie, bratty!reader, pure smut (rough-ish sex, use of strap-on, spanking, light degradation, squirting), ellie refers to her strap-on as ‘her cock’

words. 1.7k

mdni.

thinking about farm hand!ellie…

you’re the pretty farmer’s daughter and she’s the farm hand your father hired to help out with some of the things he can no longer do at his age. they’re simple tasks, things like milking the cows, cleaning the pens, watering the crops.

but you — god, you make the job ten times more difficult. you’re always there, prancing around the farm in tiny little skirts that ride right up your ass whenever you lean over, flashing ellie your panties as you pretend to be laser focused on inspecting how the freshly planted produce are coming along, paired with the tightest crop tops known to man that you never bother wearing a bra with, your nipples hard and inviting as they poke through the shirts.

you don’t even close the bathroom window when you’re showering either, knowing full well that it overlooks the field right where ellie is working, giving her a perfect view of the water sliding over your smooth, naked body, purposefully putting on a show for her by lathering your tits in body wash or pretending to drop the soap, slowly bending down to pick it up, your glistening pussy lips peeking out from behind your ass.

you’re a little tease, and you damn well know it. whenever you catch ellie watching you, you shoot her a wink or blow her a kiss, not bothering to cover yourself or fix your clothes, uncaring that she can see practically everything. she knows you like the attention; you like the way she reacts to you, the way she constantly looks like she’s on the verge of losing control around you, just one step away from taking you in the pumpkin patch and fucking that bratty streak out of you.

and don’t get ellie wrong, she tries her best to ignore it at first. she’s here to work, not play games. she’ll dig her heels into whatever task she’s doing; trying not to nick her fingers when she’s shearing the sheep and she suddenly catches a glimpse of you skipping past on your way to the stables, going full commando under your dress that the breeze graciously causes to flutter up; trying not to outright stare when you’re hanging the washing and purposefully peg your skimpiest pair of panties right above ellie’s head, the fabric smelling of lavender and roses, a scent that makes her clit throb.

(she always ends up stealing them off the washing line when you’re not looking and tucking them away in her back pocket to get off to later, pretending that it’s actually you she’s grinding her pussy against and not just the now soaked fabric of your panties.)

but as the days pass, it gets harder and harder to ignore you, to act like what you’re doing isn’t affecting her. wherever ellie is, you’re not far behind. whether she’s stacking barrels of hay, feeding the livestock, or mending a hole in the chicken wire, you’re right there with her. and as much as ellie tries not to let her mind wander, her thoughts are never on work when you’re around; they’re on you.

she ends up fucking you in your room one day when your father goes into town to pick up a few things. it’s one of very few times she’s been inside your house, because your father doesn’t like her trekking mud through the halls after she’s been outside working all day. she had been looking for the bathroom when she passed by your room, where the loud sound of moans and whimpers were coming from. unable to stop herself, she’d looked in, and there you were — on your bed, knees drawn and spread, two fingers pumping rhythmically in and out of your pussy.

ellie was about to walk away, reminding herself that you’re the daughter of her somewhat boss, but that was when you’d looked up and seen her, and with a teasing smile, you’d tilted your head, batted those pretty lashes, and purred “why don’t you come help me, ellie? i bet yours would feel so much better…”

that did it. that crossed the line. and now—

she’s practically splitting you open on her strap, the curved tip of it slamming against your cervix and sending bursts of pleasure up your spine, her sweaty chest pressed against your even sweatier back. there’s nothing gentle about it. this is her getting back at you; finally teaching you a lesson for how much you’ve been pushing her buttons.

“this what you wanted, huh?” ellie growls in your ear, delivering a firm smack to your ass that has you squealing and rutting back against her. “this why you’ve been acting like such a needy fuckin’ slut? think i don’t know what you’ve been doing? if you wanted me to fuck you so badly, you should’ve just asked.”

the hand on your ass moves around to your front, finding your clit — red, swollen, and crying out for attention — and giving it a hard pinch between her middle and pointer finger, making you gasp sharply, before soothing it over with some quick, gentle rubs of her thumb.

“n-not a slut, els,” you pant out. “just… just wanted your attention… ngnhh.”

“that right?” ellie rasps. “well, you’ve got it now, baby. you’ve fuckin’ got it alright.”

she pushes down on the middle of your back, causing your knees to give out beneath you and your body to slump forward so that your chest is pressed against the mattress, face squishing into the pillows. ellie’s fingers dig into your hips, lifting them higher for her, her strap rabbiting in and out of your pussy at a pace that makes your head spin, like she’s seriously trying to rearrange your guts.

“ellie, ellie, ellie,” you mewl, eyes rolling back. “gonna— gonna cum. oh god...”

“no, the fuck you’re not,” ellie hisses, slapping your ass again, squeezing the fat of it firmly in her hands just for good measure. “not till i fucking say you can. slut.”

she pulls out then, and your pussy tries to protest by tightening around her strap as she moves back, the wet pop of your pussy reluctantly releasing her echoing through the room. you glance over your shoulder at her, face twisted into a desperate look, eyes begging with her not to leave you on the edge like this.

“ellie, please—”

she grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your back, then tugs you up and forward until you’re straddling her, your sticky folds sliding over the glossy tip of her strap, bumping against that swollen bundle of nerves at the top of your pussy entrance. “there we go,” ellie murmurs, more to herself than to you. “you’re gonna do the work now, baby. make it up to me for all your teasing.”

with a whine, you line yourself back up with her and sink down, both you and ellie letting out a low moan at the feeling of her filling you again, the bottom of ellie’s strap brushing deliciously against her own neglected clit. you grind against her desperately, no pausing or hesitating; just the pure, unbridled need to cum. ellie eyes the way your pussy swallows her up greedily, fitting so perfectly around her, tight like a glove, as if you can’t get enough.

“that’s it,” she hums approvingly. “ride me, baby. fuckin’ ride me. show me how bad you want it.”

you begin bouncing up and down on her strap so fast that the headboard slams against the wall. she groans, planting her feet flat on the bed so that her strap angles just right, reaching even deeper inside you, spearing you. a gasp flies from your lips and you throw your head back. ellie’s hands come up to cup your tits and play with your nipples. all the times she’s seen them poking through your shirts or silhouetted in the steamy bathroom window, now she’s finally getting the real thing.

“gonna cum, huh?” she breathes out, when your bouncing starts to get sloppier and your thighs begin to quiver. “gonna cream all over my cock, pretty girl?”

you nod frantically. “y-yes, ellie. oh, fuck, gonna—” you don’t even get to finish your sentence before you cum, mouth open in a silent scream, clenching around her strap, soaking your thighs, her abdomen, and the sheets beneath you in your release, pussy gushing like a waterfall. the force of your orgasm hits you so hard that you swear you nearly black out. you don’t even realize you’ve squirted until ellie chuckles and slaps your thigh, bringing you back into the moment.

“ffuckkkk, that’s it,” she mutters, still bouncing you, still chasing her own pleasure despite the fact that your overstimulated body has gone limp in her grasp. you’re too fucked out to be embarrassed by neither your pussy’s reaction nor the disgusting squelching sounds it makes each time ellie slams you down to the hilt. “squirting all over my cock like such a good girl. knew you had it in you.”

when she cums too, she holds you down on her strap for a good while longer, keeping the pressure of it against her clit and imagining for a moment that she’s filling you up with her cum. then she lets you off and smirks when you immediately collapse into a boneless pile next to her, curling into her side like a cat in the sun.

“s-so good,” you murmur, voice shaky and uneven, slowly coming down from your high, the thrumming between your thighs where her strap had just been lodged unrelenting, as if it’s shaped itself a home inside your womb. with a sigh, you bury your face in ellie’s neck, planting a soft kiss on her pulse-point. “that was so good, ellie.”

“yeah?” ellie responds, her hand coming down to spank your ass again, smirk widening at the little yelp you make into her neck. “you learned your lesson? gonna continue fucking with me or you gonna be a good girl from now on?”

you shake your head, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “gonna be a good girl for you, els. no more teasing, promise.”

“that’s what i thought.”

let’s just say — you’ve never been one to keep your promises. it’s not your fault ellie is so fun to mess with.

please do not steal, copy, translate or repost anywhere else ♡

[luveline]

do you still write for tasm!peter? if so i’d love to see ditsy reader with some new pet bugs🪲

“What’s this one called?” 

“Peter.” 

“Bub.” Peter looks up from the tank, your spider curling on a thin web an inch below his hands. “You can’t call them all Peter.” 

You smile at him in your way, as though any disagreement at all is temporary. You’re right, but it doesn’t make it any easier on Peter —half his flirtation lies in teasing arguments that you refuse to entertain. “I haven’t. The yellow backed one is called Parker.” 

He rushes across the room to sit atop your legs, knocking your phone aside to empty your hands. As he predicts, you sew a hand into the front of his hair and scratch. 

“What did I do to deserve such an honour?” he says, his voice sliding into a murmur as you bring his face against yours. It’s not always easy to relax in a room full of bugs; you’ve spiders and mantis’, beetles and stick bugs, even an enclosure of little moths. Each taken care of with more love than they could ever feel, but creepy and crawly. They put Peter on edge. 

“Don’t they look like Peter Parker’s to you?” 

“Am I that spindly?” 

You feel along his arm. It tickles, your fingertips digging into tight muscle. “No, I guess not.” 

“You’re flirting with me,” he murmurs, “aren’t you, bub?” 

“You seem to think so.”

He laughs, pulling you in for a short kiss. “Any more newcomers I need to know about?” he asks as you part, words pressed from his mouth to yours. 

Your breath warms his lips, “Only the punnet of mealworms downstairs.” 

“Alive?” 

You slide fingers through his hair, both hands, burying them against the sides of his head. His breath stutters as you kiss him with all the nonchalance of someone who was apparently made to kiss him, every inch of it right, and warm, and loving. 

“Decidedly not,” you say quietly. Across the room, one of your bugs skitters into foliage. “They’re for the spiders.” You smile. He feels it under his lips. “Hey, do you think you’d like one?” 

“No.” 

“You’re part spider, now.” 

“Still too human to eat mealworms, baby.” 

You breathe out softly as he kisses your shoulder. “That’s a shame.” 

[j4desblurbs]

R U MINE?

logan howlett x fem! reader

it’s about time we wrote more than smut for this man!!

summary: logan accidentally hurts you.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

word count: 642

when you fell asleep in logan’s bed, you hadn’t expected to be woken up like this.

a sharp, fiery pain lances across your arm, snapping you out of your slumber. you glance down, just as logan’s adamantium claws retract.

he’s having another nightmare.

of course, you knew he had them frequently. often times half the mansion would be woken up by his screaming. but you didn’t really think they’d be like this.

logan hasn’t started screaming yet, but he’s shifting, murmuring under his breath about william stryker. suddenly he’s shooting up in bed in a cold sweat, looking around frantically before he sees you and relaxes.

his eyes spot the line of red that mars your skin, and in an instant he’s moving, gently lifting your forearm to look closer.

“did i..” he cuts himself off, unable to continue. he had hurt you.

“logan, it’s okay…” you start, but you don’t get very far into your sentence before he cuts you off.

“okay? bub, i hurt you. that’s not okay.” the distraught look in logan’s eyes makes your heart ache. didn’t he realize it wasn’t his fault?

you slide closer to him, but he moves back, tense. trying again, you slowly reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to react. when he doesn’t, you pull yourself close to him, wrapping your arms around his muscular frame and resting your head on his shoulder. reluctantly, his body relaxes and he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“logan.” you say, voice soft. “it’s just a scratch, okay? i’m alright. promise.”

“lucky it’s just a scratch.” he responds, gruff voice slightly muffled by your hair. then his strong hands are on your shoulders, pulling you up from his body and forcing you to look at him.

“what would you have done if i’d stabbed you, huh? what then?” logan’s voice is strained, full of pain.

“but you didn’t.” you urge, cupping his cheek with one hand. “you didn’t, logan. and i know you won’t.”

he looks up at you, his eyes full of confusion. you were so trusting, so patient. he couldn’t even begin to understand it. his claws had touched you, and the way you shrugged it off, said it was okay? it drove him crazy.

some part of him wanted you to push him away. to get out of his room and never come back. he was used to that, would know how to deal with that.

he didn’t know how to deal with this.

“you don’t know that. hell, even i don’t know that.” he mutters that last part to himself. you can feel the self hatred that emanates off his frame, making your heart sink. did he really think so little of himself and his ability?

“i know that you’re the most caring person i’ve ever known” you start, softly running your fingers down his forearm. “i know that you’d do whatever you could to protect the people you love.” with every passing second, logan becomes less tense. “i know that you hate those claws a lot of the time. but i love them.”

“you love them?” he repeats, confused on how you could find beauty in such an ugly twisted thing. you hum in response. “i love them because they’re a part of you, and i love you. they’re not all bad, logan.”

with that, he relents, allowing himself to sink into your touch, arms gingerly wrapping themselves around you, tucking your head under his chin.

“i love you.” he murmurs, lips pressing against your hair.

“i love you too.” you whisper into his neck, pressing a gentle kiss on his pulse point. you melt into him, silently urging him to lay back onto the mattress.

when logan falls asleep with you in his arms. his dreams are filled with nothing but peace.

[luna-azzurra]

Questions about your character’s perspective on love and relationships

What’s their vibe on romantic love? Does your character buy into the whole “true love” thing, or are they more of a realist? Maybe they’ve been hurt before and think love’s just temporary, or maybe they’re the type who believes in the magic of it, like something out of a movie. Whatever their perspective, it’s shaped by their experiences and personality, so dive deep into why they feel the way they do.

First heartbreak, what happened and what changed? The first real heartbreak is a big deal. How did it go down for your character, and what kind of impact did it leave? Maybe they were completely crushed and it made them put up walls, or maybe they learned a valuable lesson about what they don’t want in future relationships. First heartbreaks can set the tone for how they approach love going forward, are they more cautious now, or did it make them tougher?

Do they believe in soulmates, or nah? Does your character believe there’s just one perfect person out there for everyone? Or do they think you can have many different kinds of love throughout life? Their answer says a lot about their outlook—are they hopeless romantics or more logical about relationships? And why do they believe that? Is it because of something personal, like their parents being soulmates (or the opposite)?

What traits are they attracted to? What qualities does your character find most attractive in someone else? Is it all about looks for them, or do they care more about deeper stuff, like a sense of humor, intelligence, or kindness? Maybe they’re into people who share their passions, or maybe they like someone totally different from themselves because it adds balance. Attraction is super personal, so think about what makes someone stand out to them.

What freaks them out the most in a relationship? Everyone has fears in relationships, right? For your character, what’s the scariest part? Is it being vulnerable, getting cheated on, or maybe just losing themselves in the relationship? Maybe they’re scared of being abandoned, or they worry that they’ll never be enough for their partner. Fear can drive a lot of their actions in love, so knowing what freaks them out gives insight into why they behave the way they do.

How do they handle jealousy or insecurity? Does your character get jealous easily, or are they super confident? Maybe they try to hide their jealousy, but it shows up in small ways. Or maybe they’re really insecure and that causes problems. Do they lash out, try to keep it cool, or straight-up talk it out with their partner? How they handle these feelings says a lot about how mature they are in relationships.

Is there a past relationship that still affects them? Even if a relationship ended, that doesn’t mean it’s completely over in their mind. Is there an ex or someone from their past that still messes with their head? Maybe they never got closure, or maybe they’re still hung up on someone who’s moved on. This can have a huge influence on how they act in current relationships, whether they’re afraid to commit or always comparing new people to the old flame.

How do they show love? What’s their love language? Are they the type to shower someone with gifts, constantly tell them how much they mean to them, or do they show love through actions, like doing little things for their partner? Maybe they’re super affectionate physically, or maybe they’re more reserved but express love in quieter, thoughtful ways. It’s important to know how they give and receive love because not everyone does it the same way.

How has their understanding of love changed? People grow and learn over time, and so should your character. Maybe they started out thinking love was all about passion and drama, but now they realize it’s more about trust and commitment. Or maybe they used to think love wasn’t for them, but now they’re open to it. Whatever the case, their experiences should shape how they see love now compared to when they were younger or less experienced.

What sacrifices have they made for love, and do they regret it? Love often comes with compromises and sacrifices. What has your character given up for someone they love? Maybe it’s something small, like time or hobbies, or maybe it’s something huge, like a dream job or even a piece of their identity. Do they think it was worth it, or do they regret it? How they handle these sacrifices shows what love means to them, are they willing to give up everything for it, or is there a line they won’t cross?

How do their culture or family views influence their ideas about relationships? Culture and family play a big role in shaping someone’s views on relationships. Does your character come from a background where marriage is super important? Are they under pressure to settle down, or maybe they’re expected to stay single until a certain age? Do they rebel against those expectations or follow them? Their family’s influence could either push them toward certain relationships or drive them in the opposite direction.

Do they have a misunderstood relationship? Maybe your character has a connection with someone that other people don’t understand. It could be a deep friendship that looks romantic from the outside, or maybe they’re in a relationship that people think is toxic, but it makes sense to them. How do they deal with people not getting it? Do they explain themselves, or do they keep it private?

How do they deal with rejection or unrequited love? No one likes being rejected, but how does your character handle it? Do they get super down about it, or are they able to move on quickly? Maybe they obsess over it and can’t let go, or maybe they act like it doesn’t bother them even though it really does. Their reaction to rejection shows how resilient they are and how they handle emotional pain.

What lesson about love are they still trying to figure out? Love is complicated, and your character doesn’t have to have it all figured out. What��s one thing they still don’t get about love? Maybe they don’t know how to fully trust someone, or they struggle with letting people in. It could be that they’re always searching for the “perfect” relationship, not realizing that perfection doesn’t exist.

How does their job or career affect their love life? Balancing work and love can be tricky. Is your character too focused on their career to make time for relationships? Or maybe their job causes tension because they’re dating someone they work with, or it takes them away from their partner for long stretches of time. Their career can be a huge factor in their romantic life, so think about how it impacts their ability to maintain relationships.

[moonstruckme]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 7K MAE THAT’S AMAZING YAYAYAYAYAYAYA 😭 could i please have an apple pie with sirius and prompt 27? 💖

Of course you can!

²⁷⁾ sirens at midnight 

neighbor!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 528 words

You spot Sirius as soon as he comes outside, though you tell yourself you weren’t looking for him. He’s got a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair is disheveled and poofy. He squints in the streetlight, looking through the sea of your neighbors until he finds you, too. 

You wave lamely. 

He makes his way over. The fire alarm from your apartment building is nearly deafening even outside. Even when Sirius is right in front of you, you have to raise your voice to be heard. 

“Glad to see you’re not charred beyond recognition.” 

“I tried to go back to sleep for awhile,” Sirius replies. “I hoped it might shut up. Who set it off?” 

You shake your head, pulling your coat tighter around you as the wind picks up. You’re only wearing your pajamas underneath, much like everyone else here. “I don’t know.” 

Sirius pulls his blanket closer, too, glowering all your neighbors around you. “I’m gonna kill them.” 

“Oh.” You can’t find it in you to be surprised, but you do yawn, covering your mouth with a hand. “I don’t know how you’d have the energy.” 

“I’ll find it.” Sirius joins you, leaning against the side of your building. 

“When do you think they’ll let us back in?” you ask.

He groans. “It’ll probably be forever. The fire department has to come, and they have to sweep everything…I may as well go in to work now.” 

“Dressed like that?” 

Sirius gives you a sideways grin. “They’re lucky I come in at all. And if the blanket slips a bit, it’ll probably just earn me some extra tips.” 

You laugh. “Are you not wearing pajamas underneath?” 

“I’m wearing my pajamas. Some of us choose more modesty in bed than others, gorgeous.” 

Your face heats ferociously, but the silence that lapses between you isn’t uncomfortable. You watch your neighbors try to calm frenetic pets, swap coats and coverings against the chill, fall asleep on each other while sitting on the curb. Despite the wailing of the alarm, your own eyelids start to feel heavy again. 

When it finally cuts out, your relief is so immense you drop your head to Sirius’ shoulder without a thought. 

“Thank god,” you mumble. 

“What was that?” Sirius teases. “My ears are still ringing.” 

In the new silence, you hear sirens approaching. Red lights glow in the distance. 

“That’ll be the fire crew,” he says. You realize your head is still on his shoulder, and you lift it to find Sirius looking at you. He seems more awake than he had been. “Do you want to get out of here for a while? We could grab a coffee and wait them out.” 

“Is anywhere even open right now?” 

“Absolutely.” He gestures down the block with his chin. “That cafe there? Open twenty four hours a day, just for us.” 

“Nice of them. Are you okay to go like that?” you ask, though you’re already walking with him. 

“What, like this?” Sirius spreads his arms halfway open, giving you a brief view of his tattooed chest and boxers. “Sweetness, I might even get us a free meal. Don’t worry about me.” 

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you. 

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky. 

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on the same end of that deal just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected. 

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces. 

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different. 

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction. 

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait. 

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore. 

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks. 

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in. 

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is. 

Maybe he’s it. 

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine. 

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom. 

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him. 

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists. 

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust. 

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet. 

And you have a heated… What was it called again? 

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay. 

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you. 

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind. 

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works. 

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water. 

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery. 

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable. 

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.  

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen. 

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact. 

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?” 

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake. 

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather. 

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask. 

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks. 

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed. 

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him. 

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating. 

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice. 

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to. 

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his. 

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality. 

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna. 

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now. 

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most. 

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. 

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end. 

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t. 

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken. 

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting. 

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room. 

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track. 

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command. 

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep. 

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him. 

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features. 

“Love… you’re awake.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[xshimaeraxx]

okay ik that the fandom LOVES making logan the one who’s the cat-like mutant in the relationship and i LOVE that and it is so canon but like

hear me out here! catboy!! wade!!

a wade who was a mutant long before francis got his grubby little hands in him, wade who was a mutant but it wasnt crazy regenerative abilities or an inability to stay dead/immortality or super-human strength, but a wade who was (still is) a mutant who had the abilities of a fuckin’ cat

a wade who has semi-night vision, not entirely but good enough to help out on jobs; a wade who has lil pinprick pupils like a cat’s and who hisses damn near 24/7 on bad pain days (bc chronic pain-having wade has my entire heart and i will go to the grave w this hc alr); a wade who purrs when happy or in the middle of slicing someone’s head off during a job; a wade who has a cat’s heightened senses- hearing, sight, taste, smell, all of that; a wade who has a cat’s un-fuckin’-canny ability to jump from heights that would’ve killed a human and have at most a small, gone-in-a-day bruise; a wade who has tufts of kitty-cat fur on his elbows and on + behind his knees

and then francis comes along, and the torture happens, and he loses his looks, and then the fur grows back bc fuck but he’d thought he’d lost his og mutation when francis torture mcgee had triggered this new one, had lost the one thing that ness might still recognise him for,,,

and then the start of d&w happens, and during the birthday scene wade’s purring, happy, quietly (so quietly no one hears it half the time, and when they do they assume it’s the faulty heating of wade & al’s shitass apartment, but ness looks at him with a pleased, proud little smile when the sound starts back up after the others’ initial investigation for the source of the sound proves fruitless and it, he gets louder, purely for the way ness’s smile gets wider, prouder in a way that is purely, unabashedly so ness wade wants to go other and kiss her, right then n there) yes but he’s still purring like he hasn’t since pre-cancer-diagnosis him & ness (and also bc francis’s little angel-killer had found the sound annoying as all hell [bc wade also purrs to self-soothe bc I Say So)and so he’d rarely done so since, half out of new-born habit, half out of some primal, hard-learned fear he still hasn’t managed to completely shake, even years later)

and then the honda odyssey scene happens, and wade’s purring, purring, purring, loud and proud and rumbling and happy and he’s also hissing playfully at logan- a motion logan doesn’t notice due to how distracted he is putting his claws thru wade’s left thigh and christ, kittycat, how long’s it been since you had a good hookup for you to be THIS tense?- and logan only notices after wade’s pinned him and his minorly blood-soaked grin freezes; doesn’t drop, but freezes.

wade’s purr stutters a tad, doesn’t stop. he asks, licking the blood off of his cheek underneath his mask and for some reason logan’s sharp eyes follow what he can see of the movement underneath wade’s mask: what’s wrong, peanut, cat got your tongue?

are you- are you fuckin’ purring? asks logan, and the sound abruptly stops, and then deadpool’s stabbing him through the gut with not one word and then they’re fighting again, and while logan notes the moment to think about later, wade also doesn’t say another word other then excited/frustrated grunts and little “haha!”s for the next half hour, and for some reason that about takes up the majority of logan’s attention until he finally, finally, punches wade’s already-broken nose literally not even a millisecond after he’s broken it hard enough that it actually takes a few seconds for wade’s healing to kick in, and for some reason he feels strangely relived when wade lets out a muffled-by-blood ugh! foulplay, wolvie, foulpla-

logan interrupts him via stabbing wade and a like you don’t play just as foul as i do, bub, and wade stabs back in response with some quippy comment or another, and by then the fight’s back on, deadpool-typical quips and all.

like. when i say catboy wade, here, do you see my vision. do you see what i’m imagining. dO YOU SEE IT I SAY

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So.... Stock image

https://www.vecteezy.com/vector-art/11430941-halloween-black-silhouette-repeating-border

[Referencing this post!]

Yuuup, that’s pretty much the same thing as what we see in the PV… 😅 Same shapes, same pattern order, everything.

Upon further research, it seems this isn’t even the first instance of this stock asset being used by Disney. It was also used for a limited edition Sally-inspired perfume called Rag Doll. I believe it was sold at Hot Topic back in 2013:

It’s a little saddening seeing TWST use stock images instead of like… you know, new assets 💦 This is following a somewhat disappointing trend of TWST animated PVs going down in quality and budget, especially over the years. For example, for the anniversaries:

2021 - 2 minutes long; all students included in highly individualized limited event outfits and movement is dynamic.

2022 - 1 minute long; all students and even staff are included but in standard uniforms, noticeable drop in art and animation quality (for example, look at Kalim and Silver in the flight scene). Animation itself is framed like Yuu is taking pictures of everyone—but really, it’s a convenient excuse to hold on static shots of the photos instead of actually animating them.

2023 - 1 minute and ~40 seconds; only the third years in their school uniforms and Grim in ceremonial robes are featured. Animation appears slow and somewhat clunky. And dear god, that weird panning shot of Malleus and Lilia; that Lilia is practically traced from his live 2D model.

2024 - 1 minute and ~10 seconds; basically a glorified slideshow with fancy effects. Only the dorm leaders in their school uniforms are shown.

Then, looking at the Halloweens:

Terror is Trending - 30 seconds; All students included and dorm costumes showcased. Unique shots and framing. Even Ramshackle Ghosts (who are important in the event story) are shown.

Endless Halloween Night - 4 different versions of the same commercial (including different characters doing the voiceover work), each ~30 seconds each; all students featured. Nice lighting, fierce expressions, varied framing.

Glorious Masquerade - 1 minute and 30 seconds. Several static panning shots, but at least the colors are striking when most other things are monochrome or muted. ~20 seconds at the end dedicated to hyping up Rollo.

Stage in Playful Land - ~35 seconds. Only the 3 SSR boys are featured, with most of the animation being in their head tilts. Less than 10 seconds is dedicated to hyping up Fellow and Gidel.

This year’s event… 20 seconds using a stock image and panning up from it to the TWST logo, no new assets.

I DON’T KNOW, maybe I’m overthinking it 😭 I’m definitely not the first person to notice this though… It’s been a point of discussion in my fandom social circles.

But hey, let’s keep our heads high! It’s very possible that we’ll get a more formal animated PV in the weeks leading up to Halloween. In fact, I’m certain of it since this current PV doesn’t show new costumes or the new twisted character, as is tradition. What we see now might just be a bonus material they’re releasing to really get us excited. Plus, we’ll probably also have an ABEMA stream with more Halloween-related news ^^ Let’s look forward to that!

[luveline]

this may sound crazy, but i have really bad OCD in terms of cleanliness. for example, always need clean clothes (has to be exactly “correct” level of clean), hand wash always over and over, i also don’t like anyone sitting or laying in my bed uncleaned or in outside clothes.

eddie is, well eddie. how do you think he would react to a gf or potential gf that has this same issue?

You can’t wear the same sweatshirt twice, you can’t not wash your hands three times before dinner. He doesn’t think much of it, to be totally honest. Eddie’s been called weird his whole life, and he knows that behaviour like yours is out of the ordinary, so he refuses to make you feel bad about it. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” he says, putting his backpack on the floor. You’re wringing your hands nervously in front of the bed, having just told him Please don’t sit on my bed. I can’t– It’s the contamination, it’s not you.

He unzips his backpack to unveil the extra clothes he brought with him. “I got these fresh out of the washer, but if it’s still not alright, I can just sit on the floor.” 

“Eddie, I’m not gonna make you sit on the floor.” Something in your expression softens. “You promise they’re clean?” 

“They still smell like detergent, but it doesn’t bother me. I can sit on the floor. Or at your desk?” 

“You can’t sit on the floor, Eddie. If they’re really clean, you can come and sit with me.” You smile weakly. “I want you to sit with me. I can’t deal with the idea of, like, your outside clothes on my bed, that’s all.” 

“That’s fine.” He makes sure not to put the clean clothes against his chest. “I get it, babe, the van is gross, pollution is disgusting, I’m gonna save the world for you to make it less icky. Can I get changed?” 

Your smile strengthens. “Yeah, course you can. I won’t look, much.” 

“Much!” Eddie’s joy at your teasing is palpable. 

He changes. You don’t watch, but you don’t avert your eyes either, which Eddie thinks is a good sign. It’s a little nerve wracking to be standing there in his boxers and socks while you’re fully clothed, until you smile at him with your face in your hand and he remembers how sweet you are.

“How many tattoos do you have?” 

“You don’t know?” he asks. 

“I’ve seen them all. Just never counted.” 

Eddie puts his worn clothes in his backpack and sits on your rug to change his socks. “I have sixteen.” 

“What?” you ask incredulously.

“I’m counting the bats separately.”

“Of course you are.” 

He springs up, squeezing the hand sanitiser on your desk into his two palms, and cleaning down to the middle of his forearms. Then, when they’re cold from the air in your room but mostly dry, he meanders his way to your side, giving you a long and loving stare. “You look really pretty when you do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“When you hold your face. Can I…” 

You lean back. He replaces your hand with his own, rubbing a soft path into your cheek. “I can’t believe you sanitised for me,” you say with a smile that’s half embarrassed and half pleased. “Thank you.” 

“Thanks for what?” He strokes your cheek back. The soft skin there pulls. “I should be saying thanks, do you know how big of a deal it is, to get to touch you? I’m on cloud nine. I feel like such a fucking winner.” 

Your nose crinkles as you laugh. “Very passionate.” 

“I’m saying goodbye to grunge. No more unwashed jackets or crust pants, I swear. I even cleaned behind my ears.” 

“You weren’t cleaning behind your ears?” 

He leans down to touch your nose tip with his. His eyes close, but not before he sees your nice smile. Getting to be here joking with you in your bedroom is worth sanitising his hands, are you kidding? He’d do a full body bleach bath three times a day if it meant he got to breathe the same air as you. 

“Tell me if I do something gross, okay? I know you think about things a lot, I just need you to tell me.” 

“I don't want you to get caught up in my stupid rules.” 

“They’re not stupid.” He noses at your cheek, his lips touching skin as he speaks, “Don’t worry about it. Tonight’s about you and me and the Amityville Horror.” 

“Okay, I won’t. I won’t worry.” Your breath warms his lips.

He kisses your cheek gently, a quiet thank you. It’s nice to be trusted with something as important and intrinsic to you as this, nicer to be touching you. He can’t believe he’s allowed. 

[coffeegnomee]

Ok just caught up and like. What the fuck man. 

I literally all can do is just sit here and hope and pray that the old members stick it out and help the new members understand what lifesteal is actually about.

Because lifesteal has the reputation of being the lying and betraying and killing people server. 

But it is just Not That. Like obviously those things have happened on the server, fine. 

But lifesteal is far far far more about teammates. Believing that they will have your back. Working together to do cool shit. Trusting each other. 

It’s about commitment and honor and respect and working together on an interesting goal. 

It’s about not screwing over your teammates for a cheap moment that ruins the rest of your relationship on the server. (Mapicc showed this perfectly this week too! He ended the experiments because he’d rather have a teammate than execute a crazy emotional manipulation arc on Zam and really push him over the edge.) 

They sacrifice for each other. They protect each other. They pick each other up when they get killed by their enemies. They encourage them when they’re down. Help them be strong against their fears. Get each other gear and hearts and make sure they’re safe. Spend hours on each other’s arc together in vc all night. 

They lie to OTHERS for their team. They protect the wormhole for months even when they don’t want to or believe in it at all.

They do tiny little things that they know the other person will like just so they know they love them and appreciate them being on the team. They say it too, to each other’s faces. 

It’s about loving each other bro. There’s a massive fucking reason why there’s so much shipping fanart man. They fucking love each other platonically so damn much and so damn perfectly that you can make it romantic and it’s like not even like all that weird.

It makes me so fucking mad that you could boil down this beautiful server into lying and killing and go on it and be like, I heard princezam betrays every team he’s on obviously we should betray everyone and be on the lookout for every single person being a betrayer. 

Zam fucking lost his mind over betraying team awesome and eclipse. He AGONIZED for MONTHS before pulling the trigger for eclipse and he didn’t betray team awesome until after their massive arc together that he was completely loyal to, finished it out as a team, and only when they looked like they weren’t going to give up their unfair advantage did he seek to leave them. And he fought them and left.

The fucking respect he has for a team is insane.

And same goes for Bacon and Mapicc. 

as for others:

Ro only betrays if he gets a better offer (from mapicc) 

Leo betrays when it’s interesting for the story to have a juggernaut.

Spoke betrays only when he has his own bigger plan to execute that will create something interesting for the whole server to encounter. 

Clown only betrays when you go against his morals of creating content by chaos. 

I can’t even think of any notable betrayals from before s5. Most of the server does not betray ever. Most of the server never lies. 

They only lie and betray when it’s for the benefit of the content. 

And that’s what fucking makes me so upset about this. Bacon is doing this arc for the BETTERMENT of the server. He literally says he’s doing it to make other people’s lives on the sever more interesting. It ain’t even about him. He’s not even making a video about this. He just likes to do cool shit on the server because it’s fun to craft an overarching story for everyone to play into.

It’s never been about hearts man. 

The most valuable resource on the server is content. 

And Bacon understands this. In a way that quite possibly could make him a worldender like spoke and clown. He’s really getting into the role of strategizing fun things for the server to do for no other reason than someone has to do it and that it’s good for the server. 

But the new members just do not understand what “for content” means. They just kill randomly. They don’t defend each other. They don’t tell the other teammate to give the heart back bc it’s been proven enough that they’re innocent. They’re constantly suspicious and will only meet if there are no enemies online. 

It’s not about the hearts man. 

It’s about the team.

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ DESPERATION INCARNATE yan! xiao / gn! reader

in every life, he had sworn to protect you. in every life, he had failed. in this life, he'll make sure that it won't happen again. to keep the you in this life from ever slipping away from him like you did so many times before.

in which xiao falls in love with you in every life and slowly goes insane.

( reincarnation au, w4r, lots of blo0dshed and decápitation, graphic description of vi0lence, mention of xiao's sl4very, deáth... lots of it, sort of enabler aether but for a lil bit, the beginnings of a yandere, angst. lots of it as well )

“you know, yéyé says that if you make a wish on a dandelion seed, then your wishes will come true!”

the unnamed adeptus fixes his golden gaze on a fellow prisoner, sitting across from him with a bright smile. the prisoners around them have given up already, with their dull, glazed eyes and the repeated prayers of deàth spilling from their cracked lips. but this odd one, although their face caked with grime and their hair matted from bloòd, smiles at him from the darkness.

“... dandelion seed?” he goes, not bothering to wince or be embarrassed by his raspy voice. this dull life strips you of your dignity and pride. there’s no use in saving face when you’re looking at deàth right in the eyes. “i have never heard of such a thing.”

“oh, you don’t know?” the little prisoner cocks their head at him. “it’s a curious thing! it’s a flower with fluffy petals covering the middle part. yéyé said that whenever he takes a walk on the borders between liyue and mondstadt, he’d pick some for himself and make a wish!”

the adeptus scoffs. “wishes have no place in my world. actions must be taken if you want results. your grandfather sounds foolish. now be quiet, lest you want the god to take care of that noisy tongue of yours.”

his fellow mate sticks said tongue out at him and gives him a dirty glare. “how rude! my yéyé is the smartest one in our village, you know. he takes a record of all the crops harvested. he’s veeery important! besides, don’t you want to know what he wished for?”

he sighs. it wouldn’t hurt to indulge this one’s yapping for a little more time. the painful groans were starting to take a toll on him and conversation, no matter how foolish the premise sounded, was a nice change of pace. even if his throat was hurting from use because of the god’s neglect to give them drinkable water. “what is it, then?”

they grin at him. “he wished for mondstadt’s harsh winds to disappear! isn’t he cool?”

“why wouldn’t he use the wish for himself?” he cocks his head. “it seems to be more efficient and logical.”

the little prisoner stares at them from behind their bars.

“... what.”

“you are so dull to talk to.”

ugh, this little—! they were the one who started the conversation! before alatus could snap something back, they fall back dramatically and shake their head at him in a pitying manner. “wishes aren’t made to be efficient and logical, stupid! they won’t always work! that’s why they’re just wishes!”

he decides that this thing is absolutely aggravating to talk to, but he won’t deny that he likes their company. “then what’s the use of doing something so useless?”

they laugh. it echoes through their cell, a pleasant tune before it escapes through the bars and gets lost in the sad symphony of groans and lifeless pleas. they continue to laugh like they were underneath liyue’s vast blue skies instead of an underground tomb. “isn’t it obvious, mister adeptus? it’s for hope!

“if you wish on a dandelion and blow the seeds away, your wish will be carried for all of teyvat to hear! and then– and then! even if it’s just a teeny bit of hope, you’ll start to feel that everything can be possible!”

“sounds inefficient.”

“that’s why i said you’re so dull to talk to.”

“hmph.”

“i don’t understand why you keep coming back down here, mister adeptus,” comes the familiar cheery voice of his once prison mate. the surrounding cells are all empty, filled with corpses of the dead long gone. the young god has no time to spare any thought for the useless mortals hanging in his underground prison. the adeptus slides a tray of milk and bread between the bars and into the lap of a grinning face.

even you, he thinks as he examines their sallow face and dry lips. you have been forgotten.

 “you have plenty of companions upstairs. shouldn’t you be celebrating and parading around with them? i heard through the cracks that you’ve got plenty of rice wine to waste.”

“they are not my companions,” he snaps, but they don’t flinch as they snack on the food. “they’re fools who waste their time mindlessly partying and deriving pleasure from the pain of the weak. and i’m… i am nothing more than the god’s plaything.”

he sinks to the ground, sighing. “... [your name],” he whispers, staring at them tearfully from behind bars. “i will get us out of here, i promise.” his hands, shaking and caked with blood, gently reach for their cheek. it’s rough and awfully thin, and something in his chest breaks whenever he sees such a beautiful thing covered in dirt like they were nothing. “i’ll get you back to your village. i’ll make sure that you’ll see your grandfather and your siblings again.”

their hands squeeze his lightly, not having the energy to reciprocate his tenderness like they used to. “i know,” they whisper back to him. they smile up at him, though it is now weak and shaky. “... your hair is green.”

his brows knit together in confusion, but they brush back a few stray strands and smile at the feel of it in their palm. “... i’ve never seen a dandelion, you know. but my yéyé says that dandelions are green. i don’t know if it’s this shade of green but…” you close your eyes and chuckle. “it’s nice to know that i have my own dandelion right in front of me.”

“...?!”

“my dandelion… i have a wish to make,” you mumble to him. alatus closes in, ready to serve you your heart’s deepest desires.

“anything… anything you want, [your name], i’ll make it come true. so…!”

“smile for me, will you?” you peer up at him, watching confusion take over his delicate yet rough features. “you always look so sad. as my dearest friend…

“my only wish is that i see you smile. even if it’s just once.”

the adeptus returns the next day, milk and bread on a tray once more. they are wasted on the floor.

a corpse smiles from the shadows of the cell.

he thinks back to the wish he couldn’t fulfill yesterday. try as he might, it’s hard to stretch his lips into a genuine smile.

maybe it’s because he’s collapsed on the ground, yelling in pain as his whole world blissfully sleeps in the corner.

maybe it’s because whenever he tries to smile, it doesn’t feel right.

not when there’s no one to smile for anymore.

the end is nowhere in sight, yet rex lapis keeps pushing forward.

alatus’ spear plunges into the guts of the demons, spurting black blood over his lithe body as he pulls it out. around him, his fellow yakshas are also hard at work. bosacius tears bodies apart with his four bare hands, splattering more blood and leaving a gruesome sight behind. menogias clicks his tongue and furrows his eyes at the electro yaksha in disapproval.

“can’t you be a bit more graceful, bosacius?” he steps out of the way as bonanus and indarias team up to fling a particularly mighty foe across his way. “these corpses are dismal to look at!”

bosacius laughs boisterously, hoisting an enemy up in the air and cracking their skull on a rock in one fell swoop. “i can’t be bothered, brother! this is the way bosacius fights! with bare hands and strength! corpses are not meant to be looked at anyway!” crack. crack. the gruesome sounds of his fighting are lost in the sounds of war around them.

with a clever twist of his body, alatus sends a corpse to the four-handed idiot to which he skillfully catches without even sparing a glance. “less talking, more fighting,” he says ever so curtly. “rex lapis requires our immediate assistance. do not dally.”

bosacius and menogias send each other a knowing glance, quite familiar with alatus’ undying loyalty to their senior adeptus. the fighting continues and alatus continues to let himself get lost in the chaos, never minding the mysterious ache that binds his chest tighter and tighter with every demon purged. when the battle is won, no one celebrates. it’s hard to, when you feel the blood of the thousands you have massacred drying on your skin. alatus approaches rex lapis, his toned back shadowed by the rising sun as he overlooks the aftermath of the war.

“you’ve fought well, alatus,” rex lapis’ deep voice acknowledges him, brown eyes still steady on the horizon. “you do well to keep the contract.”

“i do not need a contract to serve you, rex lapis,” alatus starts humbly, lowering his gaze in respect. “i owe you my freedom and life.”

“you say that, yet i now have you enslaved to kill for another cause. to me, there is no difference.” rex lapis casts a glace on his most loyal follower. “yet you say that i have given you freedom.”

alatus takes note of the dry bitterness underneath rex lapis’ otherwise gravel tone. “i have signed the contract of my own free will,” he professes, daring to gaze his golden eyes into his lord’s similar ones. “you need not worry about me, my lord.”

rex lapis chuckles, before beckoning alatus to his side. “look at her harsh winds and cold peaks,” the senior adeptus muses. “our nation is blessed with vast plains and tall mountains, but our neighbors shoulder the bitter cold while fighting their side of the archon war.”

“indeed,” alatus could only say. “but your victory is sure now, my lord. soon you will rebuild liyue to glory once you’ve taken the seat of the seven.”

“mmm, yes,” rex lapis hums. “the war nears its end. seven victors from different nations, including bitter and wintry mondstadt. i wonder what sort of archon will rise from mondstadt. our borders are joined together— while violetgrass root themselves on the stony sides of our mountains, their dandelions withstand harsh winds even as their seeds threaten to fly. perhaps their new archon can give them a home where they can grow unbothered, while i build our citizens to be as resilient as a violetgrass.”

… dandelions…

“apologies for the unnecessary question, my lord, but… have you seen a dandelion?”

“oh, they’re curious little things indeed. native to mondstadt. if guizhong had time, she used to walk by the borders and pluck them to make a wish.”

alatus’s breath hitches at the familiar tale. “... what did she wish for, if i would be permitted to know?”

rex lapis’ lips turn into a half-smile, hardened eyes softening at the memories of a dear friend long gone. “she wished for liyue to prosper under my rule. never used a wish on herself.”

“... huh.” the wind blows back alatus’s matted hair, revealing forlorn eyes as they gaze at the sun. “... i wonder why they all do that.”

“does this all sound familiar to you, alatus?” the younger adeptus looks up to see his lord gazing at him with a soft look. alatus shakes his head and straightens his back, taking on the stance of a soldier once again.

“no. this is not the time for me to be concerned with another nation’s trivialities.” he bows his head to the adeptus and starts to make his exit. he doesn’t know why, but a gloved hand takes one of the stray strands of hair self-consciously and turns back to rex lapis. “another question… if i may be so impudent to ask.”

“impudence is not a word to be used on you, alatus. go ahead.”

for a moment, alatus’s confused and conflicted face makes him look like the young adeptus rex lapis saved from the hands of a cruel god. now he is not a battle-hardened soldier, but a lost boy who doesn’t know what to do. “... is the shade of my hair… similar to that of a dandelion?”

the older adeptus cocks his head at the unusual question. “far from it, no.” he studies alatus’s look of disappointment as he lets go of the strand. “why do you ask?”

“... nothing, my lord.”

moments of respite like this are rare in this current era of warfare, so soldiers cherish every single second of it. but for alatus who has only known bloodshed ever since his days at the mercy of the young god, this temporary peacefulness is a waste of time. in a camp just outside of liyue harbor, alatus and his fellowmen idle around a crackling campfire.

“you’re too fidgety, alatus-gē,” pervases laughs as he takes a bite out of his grilled ticker fish. he raises one to alatus’s face. “care for one?” when the senior adeptus scowls and turns his head away, he shrugs and scoffs it down stick and all in one gulp. “more for me then.”

“those malevolent gods continue to let their underlings rampage as we sit here and idle,” alatus frowned at the seemingly peaceful campsite of his fellow yakshas and even a few outstanding mortal warriors. “we should be making plans and calling reinforcements. the war will not end unless we bring that monster down to its watery grave.”

“oh my,” comes a motherly sigh. a young woman with silvery gray hair smiles slyly at alatus. her slender figure stretches across the log serving as a seat in front of the campfire, the cleansing bell tinkling delicately at her side. “you youngsters are quite eager to get into danger these days. not everyone has the energy to keep battling, you know? why i—” she sighs mournfully, pressing her fingers to a supple cheek “— even i need my beauty sleep. charging into the fray daily with no rest is just too much!”

“ping,” he addresses the newcomer. “i see that you are as vain as ever. if you’re not willing to put your all into this war, why did you even enter the contract?”

“i am upholding my end of the contract,” huffs ping. “but only within reason! you’re the one who’s out of reason.” she waves him off with her hand, shooing him off like a stray dog. “take a walk or something. call it a night patrol to ease yourself. i’m afraid your scowl is going to affect me and give me wrinkles.”

alatus takes a good moment to ponder the suggestion before he feels ping’s eyes narrowing at him threateningly. with a deep sigh, he takes his spear with him and teleports himself to a quiet walkway some ways off the guili assembly. war had touched this side of liyue too, it seemed, with swords rusted with blood plunged to the ground and tattered kerchiefs belonging to soldiers waving solemnly in the air. alatus knows this place to once been the safe haven of rex lapis and the late guizhong’s people before the war took the sweet goddess’ life and perished her to dust. now it is mere ruins, a reminder of the evil deities are willing to commit for power.

alatus has years of battle experience under his belt, but it doesn’t make the feeling any better as he stares at these relics. he focuses his gaze on the moon and walks by.

… rumble rumble…

a weathering wall shakes just a few steps away, alerting alatus’s senses. he quickly arms his spear as he vigilantly approaches the spot. the place is teeming with ruin guards and other dangerous mechanisms and although mindless machines are no match for him, alatus is not one to underestimate an opponent. when he peeks around the corner, it is not the eerie glowing eye of a machine but a pair of eyes about to glaze over.

covered in soot and dirt, a raspy voice tries to speak out, “w… wa… ter…”

alatus blinks in surprise when he finds a human instead but quickly teleports somewhere to get drinkable water. in a moment, he appears again in front of them and swiftly tips the saucer into their mouth. gently lifting their head, he watches as they desperately glug down the water. some of it spills from the sides, but the light in their eyes quickly revives until they pull away with a gasp.

“ugh… ha! i thought i was a goner there!”

alatus freezes.

two shining [eye color] eyes peer up at him gratefully as a wide grin spreads across their face.

“thanks a lot, mister adeptus.”

they are escorted into liyue harbor. alatus does not talk to them or even spare them a glance, afraid of whatever feelings that may arise should he do so. he’s aware of the curious glance they send his way, scrutinizing his every inch. he doesn’t like how they stare at him with awe and absolute trust. this is an era of warring gods, where adepti like him dig into flesh and blood to pursue their ambition. fools who cling to whoever feeds them die easily.

they continue staring. it feels like fire as his guilt and memories long pushed away pour from his heart and threaten to consume him whole. his steps feel heavier, as if any second now and the earth will cave in and send him straight to hell. unconsciously, his eyes glance back to them and they… smile.

it hurts.

flashes of a corpse long gone come back to him and he tears his eyes away. he shakes this haunting feeling away, yet their stare that bears the weight of decades' guilt continues to burden him all the way to camp.

"ping," he says gruffly, catching the attention of the group. everyone's a bit startled at the arrival of a newcomer, a dusty and malnourished one at that, but even more so that alatus decided to trek uphill instead of just conveniently teleporting himself. "take care of this one," is all he curtly says before plopping down underneath a tree and closing his eyes.

ping huffs in disdain and gives him a dirty look, but quickly changes it to give the newcomer a warm smile. “come now, sweetie,” she coos, placing a comforting palm on the small of their back and escorting them to the bonfire. “you’re positively shivering! it makes sense, given that that yaksha’s always so cold.” at this alatus grunts, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “here’s some soup and a blanket to cover you with. my gosh, you’re so dirty! what have you been doing? playing around in the mud?”

you eagerly take her up on her offer, and soon you’re swaddled in a thick blanket and bowl of carrot soup to enjoy in front of the fire. “i was actually studying some of the leftover ruins at the assembly. i thought that maybe i could get some useful things and use them for myself.”

ping gasps dramatically at your story– a young adult scrapping for leftovers in the middle of the war– and alatus rolls his eyes. “poor, poor thing!” she cries and draws you in for a hug. “don’t worry. here at morax’s camp, you won’t have to suffer through that anymore! you’ll be cared for until we can find a suitable place for you and the other survivors to live!”

you laugh. “i think you have the wrong impression, ms. adeptus, i’ve had it pretty easy compared to others during this war. what i’ve been scrapping are materials!”

ping cocks her head, and alatus even peeks out from the tree he’s hiding behind. “materials, darling?”

“yes! screws, tree bark, metal, you name it. i’m finding them so i can continue making my gadgets.” you fish into your bag, and they can hear the clanking of metal and other stuff as you sift through the mess. “ah, here it is, one of my favorites!” you pull out a curious box, the cuhui wood engraved with liyuean details. you gently snap the box open and reveal a little figurine made out of precious stone, frozen in an elegant twirl reminiscent of liyue’s traditional dances. you begin to crank the little knob at its side, and when you release it a pleasant tinkling of sounds fills the night air.

ping stares wide-eyed at the pretty treasure, listening to its sounds with a fond look on her face. even pervasive hums as he gnaws on his nth fish, his scratchy voice humming along with the old lullaby. other nearby campers close their eyes and let their minds wander for a while, to a place where lullabies such as this sang all day and wars didn’t raze grass and civilians to the ground. for a moment, they let themselves be deluded into a moment of peace.

when the tinkling fades away, only the crackling of the fire remains. “pretty, isn’t it?” it takes ping a moment to snap out of her trance before nodding enthusiastically.

“quite! oh, if it didn’t look so perfect slotted between your hands, i might have snatched it for myself! although,” she nervously chuckles, feeling the stern gaze of the silent adeptus lounging behind the tree. “i might not have the chance anyway. a certain someone has been glaring at me ever since i conceived the thought.”

“maybe he wants it for himself?” pervases jokes. “he could do with it, what with all that stress.”

“hmph, i’ve no need for such trivial things.” he goes back to resting against the trunk without another word.

ping sighs and shakes her head at you, like a disappointed mother. “he’s always like that,” she laments. “he’s morax’s most faithful servant, i’ll tell you that, but sometimes it makes me wonder what will happen after this war is over. surely he won’t be going around slaughtering monsters?!” she raises her hand to her mouth like the thought was too unforgivable.

pervases hummed, thinking hard and long about how his senior would act in a time of peace. “hmm… i think alatus-ge would like to fish. he seems like the type.”

the image of the bloody general fishing floats above your three heads. ping waves it away. “as if!” she scoffs. “he’d just spear the fish and be done with it!”

“what kind of person do you think alatus-ge is…?”

“alatus, alatus!”

something twists at his gut, a mix of anticipation and dread, but he stops in his tracks to wait for you. you catch your breath beside him. “you’re so fast for someone so short!” you complain. “how do you do it?”

“slowness isn’t an option on the battlefield,” alatus curtly says before turning to assess. you’re covered head to toe in dirt, and your fingers are covered in grime like you’ve been digging. he sighs and rubs a speck of dirt from your cheek. “another one of your foraging hunts? you can always tell me if you need something. it’s too dangerous outside the camp.”

“i used to tell you, didn’t i?” you pout. “but you can’t tell the difference between a cork and a screw!”

alatus blushes. he can’t really wrap his head around these machineries. whenever you and cloud retainer got into one of your excited conversations about tinkering and machinery, alatus could only pretend like everything you just said didn’t make his head spin. if you got into another of your rants about the intricacies of machines or whatever, everything you said went into one ear and out the other.

“but you still listen, don’t you?” ping and pervases teased him with knowing grins. he had hit them over the head after that.

“... tus! alatus! ugh, you’re not listening again!” you had gotten into a lecture of the differences between corks and screws, but now you shake him by the shoulder with furrowed brows. “you’re always like this. is machinery really too hard for you?”

“everyone has their strengths.” he ruffles your hair, smiling softly when you visibly relax. “you wouldn’t want me to tell you about how to efficiently kill geovishaps, do you?” when you make a face, he laughs slightly. “thought so.”

“they just… ugh. they just smell so bad!”

“... they smell like rocks.”

as the two of you finish the rest of his patrol, alatus doesn’t miss a moment to watch your every movement. here, under the red rays of dusk, you look so alive. your cheeks could be healthier, but alatus is comforted with the knowledge that you stuffed yourself full this morning. your eyes have a twinkle in them, not the last sparks of ember that you had tried to hold on for so long. and you smile… because you want to. not because you had to. not because you had to comfort your fellow friend in prison.

“looks like we’ve walked too far,” alatus comments, sighting the dandelions swaying in the distance. “we should head back to camp before it gets too dark.”

“oooh, dandelions,” you muse. you and alatus stand side by side, taking in the dandelions swaying in their pastel heads swaying in the wind. “i heard they were pretty, but seeing them in person is better.”

standing by your side, alatus takes in your countenance. there is an indistinguishable look in your eyes as you watch their seeded heads bob and sway, your smile somewhere between content and forlorn. the setting sun paints your face with an orange hue, only serving to make you look as if you’ve come out of an oil painting itself. alatus’s breath hitches and he tears his eyes away from you.

self-consciously, he rubs a teal strand of his hair before tucking it back. “do… does my hair…” you turn your gaze to him questioningly, and his pale face burns at the embarrassing predicament he’s put himself in. “does my hair look like the dandelions?”

you stare at him for quite some time, only blinking and not saying anything, before you tilt your head back and laugh. alatus’s face only reddens further and he hits you with his elbow in his embarrassment. you only continue to laugh, even as alatus is beginning to throttle you and beg you to pay no heed to his words. when you’re done laughing, alatus huffs at you and refuses to look at you.

“oh, you… silly adeptus, i would have mistaken you for a pure-hearted maiden there!” you giggle into your hand, and alatus’s brows knit themselves in huffiness as you continue to tease him. “come on, you have eyes. they’re not even close in color!”

he kicks you lightly in the shin, before turning around and walking off to the distance. “come on. let’s head to camp before night,” he says as if nothing’s happened. you stare at his back for a while, a teasing smile on your face, before shaking it off and hurrying to catch up to him. when you catch up to him, you leap at him with your arms around his neck, ruffling his hair with a bright smile on your face.

“don’t be too grumpy, alatus!” you laugh, even as he sends you a look of frustration. “once this is all over, we’ll come back to this place and make wishes on those dandelions!”

“don’t forget about me, mister servant,” you lightly laugh behind your bars. “bring me lots of food, okay? then once you get me outta here, we’ll have a big ol’ feast at my yéyé’s.”

one of the guards tug at alatus’s shackles but he clings to your cell even as they grunt and pull. “[your name], i’m not leaving you! i can’t! i won’t!”

you chuckle. “stupid mister adeptus. who’s going to swipe cake for me then? now go, shoo.” you wave him away, smiling weakly. “i know you’ll come back for me. you always will.”

you’ve always had a knack for being the unluckiest person alive. even if your smile was so bright that it seemed to ward off evil, tragedy always seemed to tightly coil around your neck like a noose. he wanted to be the one to cut it off, in both the last life and this.

once again, he always seemed to be too late.

“they’ve broken through the formation!” indarias yells, slamming a fiery fist through her enemies. the pyro-blessed yaksha, usually so playful and coy, looks at her comrades with panic. “there’s no one left at the camp to defend them anymore. they’re— they’re all—!” she swallows down the bitter reality, pervases and her other comrades’ gored bodies flashing through her mind. “the civilians can’t defend themselves from all those monsters!”

“shit.” menogias slices through a foe and turns to their youngest, standing atop a pile of bloodied corpses. karmic debt wraps him and the other yakshas like a dense fog, and it gets harder to breathe with every passing second. still, he calls out to him.

“alatus—!”

the young yaksha only spares him a golden glance, before slipping the bloodied mask on. “you don’t have to tell me twice.” and he disappears into the air.

you are not there when he reappears at the camp. no one is. everything is on fire, and he can barely see what’s in front of him thanks to all the smoke and ashes polluting the air. he hisses at the burning in his lungs, but he perseveres forward as he strains his ears for any signs of life. the faint clashing of weapons and maniacal laughter is far away, but they grow stronger as he continues.

he steps on something… fleshy. growing dread rises within him as he slowly looks down.

that… is a severed hand.

biting his tongue, he rushes forward through the sea of flames. more and more decapitated limbs and bodies litter the area. arms, legs, torsos, feet… the handiwork of psychopaths, no doubt. because an ordinary soldier would not do this. not to civilians. not to people who could not defend themselves. he sees no face to mourn for. he sees no head to remember.

roars of laughter peal through the air as he braves a wall of fire. as the sky is dyed red with both fire and dawn, alatus’ face pales when he sees the enemies marching around as they shout triumphantly into the chaos.

your head, beautiful as he had always remembered, parades past him on a wooden stake.

when karmic debt takes over, he doesn’t remember anything the next morning when he sobs and cradles your sleeping face, surrounded by the bodies of foes and allies alike.

in your next life, you are both strangers. he looks high and low for you in liyue, but he does not find you.

celestia orders the seven archons to launch an attack on khaenri’ah, and alatus and whoever is left of the adepti is ordered by rex lapis to stand by in liyue and eliminate any escaped khaenri’ahns. although he has nothing against them, he is more than happy to follow his lord’s commands, because he has nothing else left to do but do his duty.

surely enough, the khaenri’ahns have found some escape route that leads up to liyue. unfortunately for them, alatus and the others are there to massacre them without hesitation.

in one of the escapees, his eyes widen behind his mask as he meets your scared eyes. in this life, they have diamonds in them, and they stare back at him with fear and unfamiliarity rather than mischief and friendliness. he thinks you still look beautiful.

even as he drives a spear through your chest.

when the massacre is finished, he tries to find your body. but there are too many of you, bodies upon bodies and the stench of death heavy in the air. he cannot find you, his pearl, in this bloody sea of corpses.

years have passed, and he has not seen you since.

well, that would be a bit false. he does see you, but not… you. he does not walk with you in flower fields to admire your face bathed in sunlight nor does he watch you rummage through ruins for scraps of metal and machines. he does not idly chat with you behind bars to pass the time away nor does he help soft bread to your chapped lips as he comforts you with promises of your freedom and your yéyé.

he sees an image of you, the hallucination that his karmic debt has conjured for him in his nightmares. you smile at him ever so sweetly, joining him in his bed at wangshu inn. you’re always so pure and pretty in your nightdress when you sidle up to him to share in his warmth. but when you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, alatus’ eyes shoot wide open as he feels your hand wrap around his neck and squeeze. he should fight, he could fight, but how could he? your face is twisted in hatred and disappointment, whispering to him about his betrayal and failure to save you. ‘you killed me, you left me, you fed me to the dogs.’

how could he fight back, when all you have said is the truth?

and so alatus, now named xiao, wakes up for another day drenched in his sweat and tears.

he is patrolling guili plains when he spots a familiar head of gold and the tinier head of white walking idly through the grasses. it’s not unusual for aether and paimon to be here, but they’ve thoroughly explored and exhausted this area of any treasures, and last he heard they were in fontaine. he hides away in a tree, observing their usual back and forth as they seem to wait for someone.

“like i’m saying, they’re an hour late!” paimon fumes, stomping the air as she throws a tantrum. “what if someone happened to them? oooh, paimon knew we should’ve picked them up from mondstadt! they’re always so clumsy!”

“oh, don’t get your crown in a twist, paimon,” aether says, nonchalant as ever. he glances towards xiao’s way and hums to himself, as if partaking in a fun little secret (he’s always been so perceptive, xiao muses), and takes a bite out of his sunsettia. “geniuses like [your name] are always like that. losing track of time, getting caught up in some curious thing they encountered on their way… they’ll be here soon, promise.” he hands out his half-eaten sunsettia to paimon. “sunsettia?”

“ew, gross! don’t hand paimon your leftovers!”

xiao perks at the familiar name, opening one eye as he lazily ruminates the familiar syllables in his head. [your name], [your name], [your name]... like he could ever forget that. he whispers it in his sleep, prays to your hallucination like a god, screams it every morning… [your name], [your name], [your name]... he watches aether finish his sunsettia and sighs to himself. he shouldn’t be silly. numerous people with your name have appeared in liyue ever since he’s last seen you, and not one of them was you. he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“— iiii’mmm! so, so sorry!” a sobbed yelp breaks the peace of the plains from the distance. a hefty backpack overshadows the figure carrying it, running as fast as they can with the weight on them. they skid to a stop in front of the traveler and paimon, who greets the newcomer with an amused smile and a huffy face. the backpack ungracefully lands on the grass with a loud clang, and its owner falls alongside it as they try to catch their breath. “i’m so— huff— sorry! i was— hah— on my way here when i— huff— came across a travelling merchant. they had all these goods from fontaine and i— hah— couldn’t resist!”

paimon once again stomps the air. “well, you should try to be more mindful from now on! it’s rude!”

“i’m so~ory,” the eccentric figure whines pitifully. they rummage through their bag and pull out a pretty tin box, the kind used to store cookies. “forgive me, paimon?” in the usual paimon fashion, her eyes twinkle upon seeing the pretty sugar cookies stored inside, and upon the first bite all is finally forgiven.

“hm, is it just me or is someone watching us…?” they wonder, looking around the guili plains for any signs of life. “i feel this, uh, weird pressure. or am i just delusional…?”

when they turn, xiao catches their eyes through the canopy of leaves on the tree he’s occupying. his breath hitches, his eyes widen, and the world seems to halt to a stop.

you unknowingly lock eyes with the adeptus, cocking your head as you try to find the stranger peeking on your little group.

you blink when the pressure is finally gone, and you look back at the highly perceptive traveler in confusion. he only regards you with a small smile and shrugs.

“you’re awfully interested in the engineer, don’t you think?” aether playfully muses as he walks in on one of xiao’s rare times of relaxation. he lounges on wangshu inn’s balcony as he overlooks the scenery beneath him, almond tofu in hand. “why don’t you greet them for yourself then?”

xiao doesn’t spare him a glance as he brings a spoon of the silken food to his mouth. “unnecessary.”

aether rolls his eyes, taking the spot next to xiao as he studies the adeptus with a smile. “don’t be like that, you introvert. you’re always following us around while they go study liyue’s machines. i’m sure zhongli would be pleased to know that you have friends outside of us and the other adepti.” xiao scowls when aether uses his lord as a guilt trip, but doesn’t comment any further. “[your name]’s a wonderful person, if not a bit ditzy at times. i think they and cloud retainer would get aloong quite well if they ever met each other.”

he thinks back to your second life, where you chattered the night away with the crane adeptus about machinery and the like. bathed in the glow of the campfire, alatus would only dare observe from a distance as you talked passionately with stars in your eyes. aether observes as xiao’s eyes soften. “they did.”

the traveller huffs a laugh, slumping his cheek against the wooden railing as he looks out to the scenery too. “reincarnation, huh? there were things like that in other worlds as well.”

he’d never admit it, but he had always been pleased by the fact that aether had the shared experience of living for eras, if not longer. the other adepti were never close to humans, but aether and his sister had always walked alongside mortals in order to observe their stories. xiao lets the wind graze his cheek. “... did you ever have someone you wanted as well?”

“i made many friends but…” aether quirks a small smile, tapping his fingers on the wood lightly. “my sister was really all i needed.” he notes the hidden pain in his voice. “we’ve traversed many worlds together, and we will always have eternity together. but you don’t have someone like that.”

golden eyes meet golden, and xiao shudders at the sly look that aether gives him.

“well, unless you do something to change that.”

‘damn you, aether.’ the traveller’s always been sort of a bastard hiding behind gentle manners and a pretty smile, but he never thought that he’d stoop so low as to awaken the dark feelings that he’s kept repressed for so long. ‘sly dog.’ he makes a mental note to not react when aether calls for him next as some sort of petty revenge.

today, you are alone. your backpack is lighter, thankfully, otherwise you would not be able to travel through the huaguang stone forest’s cliffs and falls. he’s joined you on this journey since you started a few days back, but he continues to grow with paranoia every time he sees you walk too close to the edge. he’s also saved you a few times, summoning wind to stabilize a shaky glide or carrying you further away from the edge when you started rolling in your sleep.

his heart twists when he settles you back in your sleeping bag. he takes in your sleeping face, murmuring nonsense in your sleep, and the sides of his lips tug into an unconscious smile. you’ve always had that habit in the lives that he’s known you in, and he pushes aside the strands of hair to take a clearer look at your face. when the babbling subsides, your dopey grin relaxes itself, and the heartaches begin once again. so many times he’s watched over you like this, but the last time he had was… was when you were…

your face, peaceful and oblivious, overlaps to a bloody, dismembered one. xiao inhales sharply and shakes the image out of his head.

he starts with your cheek, caressing it softly with his calloused fingers as he revels in your warmth. they trace every feature— your fluttering eyelids, the in-betweens of your eyes, your twitching nose— until his thumb presses on your lip. this was not a luxury he could afford back then, but now, now.

‘i can protect you in this world.’ he thinks. his lips brush against yours, but he does not lean in further.

‘all my past transgressions, i will make it up to you.’

you smile in your sleep peacefully, just as you did... so many years ago.

you appear in xiao’s dream once more.

it starts off the same as always. you are draped in fine liyue silk, batting those innocent eyes at him as you call him to your shared bed. he knows what will happen next, having relieved this for centuries on end. you will crawl upon him, you will wrap those hands around his neck, and you will admonish him. xiao stares at the alluring image of you and does not budge from the foot of the bed.

“[your name], come to me.” your image cocks its head in confusion, but you follow anyway. now that he’s met the real you, he can clearly see the difference. your hair isn’t that shade, your eyes are much too wide and— ah, his image of you has slowly been creeping away from his mind after years of separation. the thought of it twists his heart.

he watches you crawl over to him, tempting and innocent like a newly wed bride. you sit on your knees dutifully, awaiting his next command. he reaches out, strokes your hair— it’s not as soft as this in real life— and smiles darkly.

“i love you, [your name].”

you smile. “i know.”

“i always have. even after all these years.”

“i know.”

your eyes held so much light and passion than this blank-minded image of you. he inhales. “i’ll miss you.”

you furrow your brows, frowning in confusion at the sudden confession. “alatus, what are you talking about—?!”

xiao’s face is unmoving as he watches you choke on your blood, staring up at him wide-eyed as your hands shakily reach up to the spear embedded through your chest. “a– la– tus…?” he does not respond to your weak call, yellow eyes dull as you bloody his spear and heave with every gasp. “wh– how could…?”

“i’ve met you, [your name],” he whispers. he thumbs away the blood trickling from your lips. he breathes in slowly, knocking his head against yours. your image stares at him in betrayal and fear. “in this life, i’ve finally met you.” he feels your image dissipating and he brings you in closer. “finally. after all these years.”

“a… la… tus…”

“this time. this life. i promise you.” he entangles your bloody hand in his and presses a kiss to it. “we will finally be together.”

“no matter what.”

[wickjump]

// cw for graphic descriptions of corpses/child death

can we talk for a little bit about how fucking horrifying it must’ve been for asriel to see chara’s corpse. his entire life, he grew up thinking that when you die, you turn to dust. he never had any reason to be taught otherwise.

so imagine his surprise when instead of the dust he’d assumed would come from his sibling’s death, it’s an empty husk of their body. skin turns paler and bluer and eyes glaze over, almost watery in how they look. they’re heavier than they’ve ever been before, and it takes asriel so long to get their body from their home to the barrier. and the entire time chara is looking at him with eyes that didn’t recognize him, eyes that don’t recognize everything. unfocused. cloudy. and when they’re lifted, their neck no longer holds up their head and it drops back and asriel has to keep pushing forward while carrying his sibling’s dead body in his arms, and you have to just think about how young they both were, too. that they were kids during all this.

as someone who did not have many experiences with corpses and then was forced to have experiences regarding a corpse at a young enough age, it’s fucked and i think that should be acknowledged because asriel didn’t know anything about corpses before. he likely didn’t even know humans didn’t turn to dust after they died. and he had to carry his best friend, his sibling’s corpse. y’all draw chara’s corpse with closed peaceful eyes and they look like they’re asleep. hell no. iirc most dead bodies eyes’ are at least a little bit open cause of muscle relaxation. chara would’ve looked wide a-fucking-wake. and buttercup poisoning also has rashes as a side effect too. like they’d have had plenty of rashes and blisters.

their body was anything but peaceful, and anything but calm while asriel had to drag it to the barrier, desperate to not let chara’s sacrifice go to waste. it was much less stoic and a lot more desperate and horrifying than is acknowledged. it wasn’t asriel majestically carrying chara’s body to the barrier before absorbing the soul. it was likely asriel having to sneak chara’s corpse away from their parents in the night while they talked about what to do now, trying his hardest to pick chara up and carry them but they’re so heavy now and a few times he ends up dropping them, maybe even dragging them once it gets tiring enough, only absorbing their soul when he’s reached the barrier, and when he does it’s scary how light chara is in comparison. this is asriel’s best friend, his sibling, someone he cared about. and now they look at him with distant eyes and a mouth slightly parted with blisters around their lips.

and it’s a death asriel regrets ever agreeing to because they look like a stranger like this. they’re not the same chara that would make scary faces and play with him in the flowerbed, it can’t be. internally he still associates death with dust, and because chara isn’t dust, some part of him is convinced they aren’t dead yet, even if he knows they are. he’s never had to cope with the idea of an empty husk of a body before, once lively yet now limp and motionless. that concept must be terrifying to a monster asriel’s age.

LIKE HELLO. ???? THATS TRAUMATIZING. CAN WE ELABORATE ON THAT MORE. BECAUSE HELLO WHAT

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[7ndipity]

How They Text

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: What the members texting habits would be like with their crush or S/o

Warnings: slightly suggestive 

A/N: thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: Jin I think is a very simplistic, but teasing texter. He’ll ask for your opinion on random things like “What should I get for lunch?” only to quip back like two minutes later with “wrong answer, I’m ordering chicken”. If you’re just in the flirty/crush stage, he tries to leave a bit of time in between texts, but once you’re dating, he texts regularly throughout the day about whatever he’s doing or thinking of “Do you think I’d look good with purple hair?”

Yoongi: I think Yoongi texts quite frequently, tho sometimes it’s only a *thumbs up emoji* He’s a man of slightly fewer words, and his texts reflect that, most of them being single word messages like “Dinner??” “Morning” “Missyou(intentionally written as one word like he’s mumbling)”. Every now and then tho, you’ll get one of his 2am, multi-paragraph messages about how much he cares for you and how much you mean to him🥺

Hobi: Hobi is consistent, responding quickly to all your messages, regardless of where you are relationship-wise. He makes sure to text you everyday, even if it’s just “Good morning!😊” and “Goodniiiiigt😘” so you know that he’s thinking of you. He also sends lots of playful selfies of his daily routine with teasing little captions like “bet you wish you were here” with a pic of him getting coffee or hanging out at rehearsals. He also randomly sends sweet little notes about how he’s thinking about you or how he misses you, especially if he’s traveling/on tour.

Namjoon: I think he texts a little inconsistently. If he’s home and in his usual routine, he texts you multiple times throughout the day, but if he’s busy or traveling, he tends to lose track of time and forgets til you text first. I think he prefers talking on the phone or in person, so he mainly texts to send updates abt his day/schedule. I feel like he texts a lot when he’s needy/horny, so if he’s suddenly really quick answering your messages, you know what’s up👀

Jimin: Jimin is a very cutesy texter, with lots of “<3”s and “smooch”s following whatever he says. He sends lots of lil reminders to look after yourself like “It’s cold today, don’t forget your jacket” or “I know you’re busy w work/school, but pls make sure to eat dinner”. He likes to play hard to get now and then, sending flirty little comments and then intentionally leaving you on ‘sent’ for a lil bit just to try and make you antsy, but if you do the same to him, he will get soo sulky 

Taehyung: I see Tae being semi-inconsistent with his texts. He’s the type to send you multiple texts in a row, but then once you respond, it takes him like an hour to reply back with just a“Yea”😑 He tends to get somewhat needy/sentimental in the evenings before bed, sending cute lil comments and scenarios like “we should buy a house somewhere by the ocean, that way we can go for walks on the beach whenever we want” “My bed’s not nearly as comfy w/o you to cuddle😔"

Jungkook: He’s a famously bad texter, leaving everybody on read constantly or taking half a day minimum to reply, but I like to think he would be more attentive if it’s from his crush or S/o(getting prompt answers from him is definitely a partner privilege) He tends to mostly send memes, but when he’s drunk, he texts a lot, rambling about how much he likes you and things he wants to do with you. They’re mostly innocent, but there’s definitely a few things that are a bit spicier too😳

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz