#little pressy

[jofdiamonds]

Your absence pains me.

I always start my letters the same way, don’t I? I shall try to innovate the next time.

But you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially not an old dog who is so madly in love with you. My angel, the light in the darkness, the person who holds my heart in her chest, next to hers.

Airi.

Your name shouldn’t be said out loud. The other day, someone asked about you – I can’t remember who it was no longer, I don’t pay attention to the myriad of faces perturbing me during the sessions of the Vampiric Council, not when you’re not holding my hand, reminding me that there are important matters being discussed and that I can’t spend the seconds, minutes, hours, thinking about you – but they did. A simple question, something like how’s Airi?, well intended, sweet. But my first impulse was to stitch their lips together so that they could utter no more words for their entire lifespan. How dare you pronounce the name of my beloved? A name that should be like that of a God; never said in vain.

I exaggerate, my love. But you know I like flair and extravagance. Now, the reason why I was writing. I wrote a new song for you. A trenodia; a poem of lamentation.

I compare our love to death – because it is never-ending and there’s no coming back from it. I compare our hearts to kintsugi, the Japanese art of putting broken pottery back together with gold. Because they were broken, but repaired anew, and made stronger, more beautiful.

Fierce, like you are.

Hopefully, I can get the discography to have it out soon. Before you come back. So that one day you can hear it on the radio as you pass through a restaurant about to close and you can stay, and listen, and think of me. Of a simple man who awaits your return. Who craves you. Who will wait, patiently, even if his first impulse each and every night is to go find you, wherever you are, just to share a kiss...

One day, I will sing it to you, while you stare into my eyes.

Forever lost in you,

Aki.

@airi-of-hearts

[ancha-aus]

Double Trouble... switched?

A tiny little thing for a lovely artist who's comics and art brings me much joy and inspiration.

Inspired by the lovely: @somegrumpynerd

And specifically this post, and this comic :3

Have fun :D

Warning, Very unedited and just me having fun ;P

(also most work was actually finding the posts to make the links work now enjoy this fanfic of which I will admit it took a few hours but I will not tell you how many words as I got no idea. Because I wrote the whole thing on tumblr and got no word counter here. Enjoy :D)

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dream knew something was wrong the moment he woke up.

His magic... it was being prickled by something. Over and over and over. It felt a bit like the sting of negativity but different.

That can't be right.

Drema struggled to full awareness as his mind tried to think of the reason why he felt the way he did.

Normally he only felt these type of prinkles and pain when he was near a lot of negativity but it had to be a lot a lot. As in, Nightmare using his own aura to fight him a lot.

But as he used his own magic of empathy he only felt a soft contentment and easy happiness in the air.

Had... Had the fight with Nightmare have afteraffects after all?!

They last fight, the one of the day before, had left Dream drained and tired. Nightmare and him had been fighting and Dream had tried to use his aura to get Nightmare to stay still and listen to him. Dream hadn't expected Nightmare to use his own magic aura. More surprising had been the fact that Nightmare's aura didn't clash with his own but instead reached him. It had burned and as Dream had said, he felt drained afterwards.

Dream hadn't thought too much off it. Especially as Nightmare had seemed exhausted and confused by it as well and he had quickly retreated afterwards.

But maybe Dream had been wrong.

Why else would he still feel this discomfort when there was nothing but positivity around him?

Dream groans as he finally manages to sit up in the very soft bed with many many pillows. Weird, Dream didn't have this many pillows on his bed and neither does Blue. Maybe Ink painted some more for them? Thoguth Ink rarely joined in on their sleepovers and Dream can't remember seeing Ink the day before.

Worse is that he feels disbalanced. Nothing feels right at the moment and the discomfort is making him cranky. He should just find Blue. Blue always makes everything better and has great ideas on what to try.

Yes, his best friend will help.

Dream opens his sockets only to stare in shock.

This... is not his room.

It isn't any room he recognizes.

It is a large beautiful place with a large, very large, bed with way too many pillows and soft blankets. There is a large bookcase just filled with books. The curtains are dark and shut. Next to him is a tiny alarm clock which reads that it is still very early in the morning.

Something else about his vision is off but Dream can't quite place it. Something that should be obvious but he can't make sense of it. He turns to the side and reaches for the bed only to freeze.

That is corruption. On his hand. And arm.

Dream feels himself start to panic as his soul pulses fast. Oh no. Oh no. What happened?! Calm down. Calm down-

Then he sees one of those corruption tentacles nad Dream flinches away, only to completely loose his balance and fall over sideways with a quiet yelp.

He lays frozen but can't feel any curiosity or hear anyone react.

He is starting to have an idea where he is and he isn't sure how to feel about this.

He slowly crawls to the side of the bed, only to keep misjudging the distance and he thinks he lost his depth perception which isn't good news.

He manages to get out of bed and only slightly panics at the sight of his own legs covered in corruption. Are it his own legs even?!

Dream pushes himself upright only almost fall over and he has to grab one of the poles of the large four poster bed to catch himself. He looks over his shoulder and is confronted with the sight of four tentacles shifting and idling behind him, all seemingly coming from his own back.

Dream takes a few unsteady steps and softly curses the way this feels. How does Nightmare DEAL with his tentacles?! How does he deal with the extra weight of it on his spine?! Dream already feels uncomfortable.

Dream manages to get to one of the two doors and opens it. He lets out a sigh of relieve when sees the bathroom. He flicks on the ligth in the room and manages to get to the mirror.

There in the mirror stands Nightmare. Staring at him in absolute shock.

Dream... Is in Nightmare's body.

Which means.

He is not at home.

Dream is in Nightmare's home.

-------

Nightmare tries to walk wiht confidence but it still takes effort to not overbalance for his lacking extra limbs.

When he woke up feeling comfortable and energised he had immediantly panic. He normally only felt that after they managed to make an universe fall fully into negativity and shift the balance.

Feeling that at home meant his boys felt unhappy and miserable and he would not have that.

Imagion his surprise when he sat up only to be in a completely different room and after a glance outside to realise he was in the Omega Timeline.

The one place he never had managed to get somekind of access too.

Nightmare wanted out right now because it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened.

Dream's and his magic had interacted strangly and connected with each other. Both had felt drained. Now Nightmare was in Dream's body.

Meaning, Dream was most likely in Nightmare's body. Meaning Dream was in Nightmare's hideout with his boys.

Nightmare didn't have time to panic or to have a crisis. He needed to somehow get to his own body and make them switch back. His minions needed constant supervision and management. Nightmare only just got Dust to agree to set an alarm clock and Horror had been improving with overeating.

He needed to get to them.

Which meant.

Be the perfect Dream so no one would think something was wrong and enable him to sneak out and search for himself.

This is starting to get annoying.

Nightmare had gotten dressed in Dream's clothes and got ready to leave.

Only for Blue to have shown up.

Which is what brought Nightmare to were he was now. Trying and struggling to maintain a facade he hadn't had time to prepare.

"You sure you are okay Dream?" Blue keeps staring at him as if he expects Nightmare to just spill the beans.

Wait. Does Dream do that? Does Dream just tell Blue everything? Probably right? But what do they normally talk about?

Nightmare is honestly unsure what it is that is between his brother and Blue. Nightmare knows that Blue and Dream are always together and Dream seems rather protective about Blue.

Nightmare realises he is taking too long to answer and puffs up his chest and speaks, being thankful for the small amount of luck there is for him in this multiverse that the voice he speaks with still sounds like Dream "Of course I am alright! It is a wonderful day and I want to spend it heloing others!" Dream and his ever need to please people and be liked.

Blue continues to grin at him, one brow slightly raised "Wowie! you are in a good mood today! Happy to hear you seem alright after the fight from yesterday."

Nightmare nods "But of course! Now! Lets get to work." and he starts walking. Only slightly falling fore over as he tries to balance for soemthign that isn't there.

"Dream!" Blue is by his side and tries to help him upright. The worry around him is slightly surprising.

Nightmare holds up a hand as he tries, and succeeds to steady himself. Old memories return of how to walk without his tendrils. He got this. "I am fine. Just a slight misstep... shall we?" Wait, how does Dream speak anyone? All the interactions Nightmare can remember were from them in battle. Which Ngihtmare knows is not a good reference for when you speak casually with others. The last interactions that Nightmare had with Dream wihtout fighting were... were from back at the tree... when both had been 6 and before their magical growth.

...

Ngihtmare doubts Dream still acts as his six year old self, even if he sometimes seems just as naiev to the world.

Blue frowns at him "If you are sure. You sure you want to go out already?"

Nightmare nods "But of course!"

Blue gives him another grin "Well. If you are sure. Let's go!"

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

Dream doesn't know what to do or say.

What do you say to your enemies when you are suddenly in their boss's body, who happens to be your twin. like. How do you decide what to say?

Dream tries to remain quiet and just watch. That is probabyl what Ngihtmare does right? Just watch and glare and tell them to not bother him?

Their happiness is burning him. That he has realised.

Dream had wanted to tell them he is going to take a moment for himself but then second guessed himself. How much would Nightmare tell them? Would he tell them that their happiness burns him? Would he be honest? Would he even tell them? Or would he just stand up and leave? Were those four expecting him to give them orders? To tell them what to do? Or would a simple 'go do your work' do?

Drema had never realised that positivity burned his brother this badly.

Did... did that mean that being around Dream burned him as well? That going near him at all in battle was as if he was being burned?

Dream knows his aura can get... a lot. but... He never considered... He never thought...

Only extreme negativity hurt Dream and all positivity energised and powered him...

If low levels of positivity already hurt his brother... would only extreme levels of negativity energise him? Would only extreme levels feed him?

Was... was Nightmare attacking AUs not as much an attack on the multiverse but more of a way to feed himself? To keep himself alive?

Dream just... didn't know.

"Boss! boss! what do you think? Awesome right!"

Dream eneds a moment to realise Killer is talking to him. Dream looks over and freezes at the knife Killer is tapping between his phalanges with a concerning speed.

Dream sits there frozen before panic overtakes his soul "What do you think you are doing?! Stop that right now before you hurt yourself!" only to realise that he spoke form panic and worry. Oh no he totally messed up! Dream wasn't thinking and-

Killer pouts but lays the knife down. Horror snorts "Told you boss would be unimpressed and mad at you for practising that."

Killer mutters something about it being cool and Nightmare just being a worrywart.

Dream blinks. Excuse but Nightmare is a what now?

Cross looks at him "What is the schedule for today boss?"

Killer snorts and copies the sentence at a softer volume but in a sillier voice.

Dream can't imagine that would be allowed but before he can even think of a fitting reaction or answer one of Nightmare's tentacles moves over to Killer's skull and gives him a soft tap.

Dream feels mortified. What do you mean those tendrils just... do that?! Dream hadn't even thought or considered that! Wait... Was... Was the corruption still negativity and so technically Nightmare... Was it like a muscle memory and so instinct for his body to do that? That implies that Nightmare has done that a lot.

Killer pouts more and crosses his arms befroe he mumbles "Fine fine. I get it. I get it. Sorry Crossy."

Crossy beams and the happiness stings Dream as Cross answers "Apology accepted!" then Cross looks at him with bright sockets "But what will we do today boss?"

Dream glances around the room as he tries to think of something that would fit. He has no idea what Nightmare does when he isn't out fighting him. Dream remembers the books in Ngihtmare's bedroom but Dream doesn't want to lock himself in there. He will go insane and just not know what to do. He needs an excuse to search around the castle. Something that will fit with their vision of Nightmare.

"I... need to... research a few things for our next... raid." Dream tries to desperately remember what Nightmare sounded like and which words he used. Dream thinks his lucky stars that Nightmare's body still sounds like Nightmare.

Cross nods "okay! Need our help with anything?"

Dream slowly shakes his skull as he tries to follow their emotions to see if he is managing to sell this. "No. I should have what I need." Okay, good so far, now how to say he will get them if he needs help. euh... "If I have need... of you. I know where to find you." That should work... right?

Killer nods as he is already out of the room and gone with a shout "Going to the cats!"

What does he mean CATS?!

Cross nods "Okay! in your office?"

office? office! An office will no doubt have information that will hopefully help Dream. Dream nods as anwer and Cross seems to accept it before he goes around grabbing the plates.

Horror asks him if he wants lunch together or brought up and Dream can feel the stress rise. damnit why are these four so focussed on Nightmare? They turn to him for everything! It makes Dream miss Blue. Blue knows what to do when and helps him more than anything.

Dream ends up saying together. Seeing as they straight up called and pulled him over for breakfast that is probably the go to. Horror seems pleased by this and nods as he starts cleaning the food in a careful manner.

Dust has just been staring at him with a frown on his face.

Dream stares back and feels the need to look away but Nightmare wouldn't look away. Dream waits and waits.

Dust huffs before leaving wihtout much of a word. Dream will take that as a win.

Dream leaves the kitchen and sees Dust disappear into another room, Dream can hear the sounds of a tv coming from there and will assume Killer is in there.

Okay... Now...

Where the hell is everything? He has no idea what the layout is of this place and it was pure luck he even found the staircase that morning to begin with.

He makes his way back to the staircase and follows it up. He makes sure he isn't watched or followed before starting to silently open doors to check what is behind each one.

Why did his brother have to be dramatic and get a castle?!

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

Nightmare hates this.

His cheeks are starting to hurt from the constant smiling. It is emotionally and mentally exhausting to be happy all the time. No one leaves him alone and everyone seems to have something they very pressingly need Dream's help for.

Which. Meant you. Are not important things!!

Dream needs a better work/home balance and learn to say no.

Nightmare can't even just return to the house that is, probably, Dream's and just hide for a moment because Blue has been by his side the whole time.

Nightmare will admit he is starting to get why Dream likes Blue so much adn seems so protective of him. Blue is a beacon of positive energy and motivation. Blue also seems happy to help Dream with anything and everything.

Honestly at this point Blue is the only reason why Ngihtmare hasn't started losing his mind at Dream just yet.

Everyone around him. the whole time. noise or people and their emotions. the pressure of everyone looking at him and trying to get his help. The amount of people trying to just stand next to him and soak up some of that positive aura is disgusting.

Nightmare has half the mind to kidnape his twin just to make sure that he knows he can actually say 'No' and tell people to piss off because it is starting to get concerning.

Nightmare hasn't had the impulse to throw this many people through windows in a while.

One more person from somekind of universe runs up to him "Dream Dream! I need your help!"

Nightmare has to take a very deep breath as he tries to control his temper. easy and calm. easy and calm. He manages to pull the smile back full force and turns to them "But of course! Happy to help. What do you need help with?"

The person smiles "Well! I wanted to do my grocerries but I ended up not going because I was watching this movie and it was jsut so good! Anyway. Would you mind doing my grocerries for me?"

Deep breaths Nightmare. Deep breaths.

The person continues on "The next part just started and I also really want to see that but by the time that one finishes the store will be closed!"

Deep. Breaths.

They continue the smile "And obviously I will pay you back later but-"

"No."

they blink. Nightmare stares back.

They frown "Waht? Why not?"

Nightmare honestly tries to keep it in but why would he? This is an idiot and they deserve to know "Because this is a result of your own neglect of your responsibilities and I don't see why it would then be up to me to fix this. Especially as you yourself still have the chance to do it yourself. But instead you are trying to use me and get an easy out. Not only that but you are also asking me to pay for this?"

The slowly cross their arms "You enver minded before..."

Anger. Rage. Nightmare manages to just stare "Well I mind now. Do it yourself. If you are adult enough to live on your own wihtout supervision you should be able to take care of yourself." Nightmare turns and walks away.

The person is enraged at him and Nightmare feels very smug about it. The person shouts after him "You are being a real asshole there Dream! And very selfish!"

Ngihtmare just keeps walking. don't commit murder in Dream's body. that is a very sure way to get others to notice you are not him.

Blue still walks with him and Nightmare glares "What?"

Blue blinks and tilts his skull "I am just happy you are finally starting to take my advice to not help everyone with everything. You gotta limit yourself or get burned out." Blue stops him and stares at him worried "Are you finally ready to tell me what is wrong Dream? I am worried about you..."

Nightmare considers what to say before sighing "I need a break." weak. Nightmare just, can't handle this. The constant demands and people asking him to do things. It is different with his boys. the real happiness they feel for him may sting slightly but it is real. The happiness of these people. It just isn't truly on that same level. There is no actual affection or care or even understanding behind it. It is about possession and demand and feeling like they earned it.

While they earned nothing.

How does Dream deal with them?

Blue nods "Yeah. Lets go to my place. People are less likely to bother you there. and If anyone asks I will just tell them you are sick."

Nightmare stares at Blue "I don't get sick. I can't get sick."

Blue snorts "Dream. The only three people in the whole multiverse that know that are, you, your twin, and me. If anyone asks we tell them you are sick." and he grins.

Ngihtmare stares at Blue for a moment "You are the only being in the multiverse with a functioning brain."

Blue snorts and laughs "Nightmare will be happy to hear you say that Dream." and he grins widely.

Nightmare snorts himself, a little inside joke just for him, "I know what I said."

They manage to find Core for a ride. Ngihtmare is relieved by that as he hasn't quite figured out how Dream makes portals just yet. Luckily Blue had decided for him that they would catch a ride instead of trying one themselves.

-----------

Dream reads through another report on the changes and shifts in the balance between positivity and negativity. another one that Dream had thought had been an attack agaisnt the multiverse but instead this report spoke about the high positivity levels making the universe unstable and them having to shift it.

The report speaks of a mild success and mentions a message to Error that this universe could be skipped for destruction for a while as they had managed to make it stable enough to last it a bit longer.

So many reports. So many universe which had been unbalanced.

Compared to all the reports Drema had read until now only about 10% spoke about getting higher negativity levels for Nightmare or getting supplies in a raid.

Everything else? All about universes that needed rebalancing and a shift in the right direction to keep them stable.

Dream leans back in the chair and yelps as the tendrils ache. He looks up adn groans as he sees the tentacles once again completely braided together. He doesn't want to have to try to undo it again and-

"Sup Boss!"

Oh are you kidding him?!

Dream had thought the people in the Omega timeline could be pushy or clingy. But it is nothing on these four. They just. Keep showing up!

It is like they are taking shifts! Dream manages to get one out and a new one will show up within 15 minutes.

Dream sighs and looks up "Waht do you want this time you. you..." you... you... Dream doesn't want to be mean. But Ngihtmare probably insults them... right? "Worms."

Cross's whole face turns sad and worried "Worms?" Oh Dream feels so bad about this. Oh no he looks so sad and hurt and why did Dream say that?

Killer however grins widely "worms! new nickname lets go!" he grins widely

Horror just looks at him with a raised brow "You okay boss?"

Dream feels himself get anxious as he tries to channel some stern face but he is unsure how well he is managing "what is it?"

Cross just keeps looking down at the floor with a sad expression as he mutters the word 'worms' to himself.

Horror looks back "Oh Killer pushed Dust down the stairs."

Drema blinks before looking at Killer "You did what?!"

Killer grins widely as he throws out his arms "I would never!"

A second later a very angry Dust shows up "He so did! The asshole pushed me!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not times infinity! Hah! I win!"

Dust glares and tries to tackle Killer but Dream, or lets be real Nightmare's tentacles, stop him and catch Dust mid air.

Dream takes a few breaths but he gives up "No pushing each other down the stairs! I can't even believe i need to say this!"

Horror speaks up "Again."

Dream feels himself stand up straighter "Again?!" luckily all of them seem to not hear the question in his outraged cry as Killer nods with a pout and Dust just huffs.

It is slightly concerning how unbother Dust looks by being up in onf of those tentacles.

Dream rubs his face as he tries to keep his spinning thoughts calm "I am going to be quick about it. I want all four of you to behave for ten minutes so I can look through my reports and figure out where to go to next!"

His brother had so many reports. If Dream could find some positive universe and spread a tiny bit of negativity then Nightmare, in Dream's own body, would feel that and come to Dream and then Dream can try to get them to switch back.

Silence answers him and he looks up to see all four of the gang look at him and nod. Dream waits for a moment before nodding himself "Good!" He has to focus on the tentacle and imagines it putting Dust down before it actually listens. The tendril seems unwilling to let Dust go.

Dream takes a deep sigh and sits back at Nightmare's desk as he starts reading through reports. He looks back up only to see all four of the gang relaxing around him and Nightmare's desk.

Dream rubs his face. considers going against it before just going wiht the flow. Fine! if they want to watch him read reports so be it! Dream turns back to the many reports as he tries to figure out which place would be best. By the stars Nightmare has so much information and he straight up has a whole catagory on different universes and what key differences are and how to spot these when first entering an universe.

There is just so much knowledge and understanding about all of these universe. Nightmare even took time ot learn which universes are most likely to interact. to cross over. or to even be able to hold a stable connection to serve as trading route.

Dream looks up and spots that those stupid tentacles had moves again! Each of them holds one of the four gang members and Dream is trying to think on how to put them back down.

Then he sees all four of them... asleep. peacefully asleep as they lay either rolled up in the tentacle or seem to hug them in their sleep.

Dream stares for a moment and wonders just how often this happens for that to be the natural reaction before he turns back to the reports. the answer has to be in these.

----------

Nightmare feels the spike of negativity as soon as it happens. It si fear from somewhere in the multiverse and he sits up straight.

Blue looks over worried "Dream?"

Nightmare knows it within a second with absolute certainty "My brother." it is dream. Dream has entered an universe and is... causing fear?

Maybe a trap. Or... a beacon.

Blue frowns at him "Are you sure you are ready for this Dream? I don't think you are... fully rested yet."

Nightmare is already up and nods "I am sure." Now the hard part. He focusses on the magic so much like his own but different. the only thing that is avaiable to him is Dream's magic and it will have to do. He focusses on the positivity and wills it to open a connection to where he feels the spike of negativity.

A portal opens before them.

Blue nods as he grabs his hammer "Let's go."

They step through together and Nightmare looks around. He is quick to spot himself.

Nightmare glares as he crouches low before he is off like a bullet right at his own body. The shock on his own face is satisfying.

More satisfying is tackling himself as he and Dream tumble down the sloop into the overgrowth behind it.

Dream yelps and tries to retaliate but Nightmare knows his own body and his own limits. Nightmare is quick to get Dream in a headlock and hisses "Give me back my body."

Dream groans "I am trying! Let go so we can figure this out before they find us!"

Nightmare frowns and waits for just a moment to see if they are followed. He feels some slight confusion and worry from everyone else but there seems to be a bit of a standoff.

Nightmare sighs and lets go of Dream "Quickly then."

Dream huffs as he gets up only to stagger as Ngihtmare sees his tendrils flex. Nightmare snorts "Haven't figured out how to keep them still yet?"

Dream glares at Ngihtmare wiht his own face "Shut up. Just tell me you have na idea how to switch us back."

Nightmare sighs "Obviously we tried to recreate what happened in our last fight." Nightmare focusses and calls forth his, Dream's? this is getting confusing, aura.

Dream hisses slightly, no doubt feeling the burn, before nodding and quickly doing the same.

Both hold out a hand and inch their aura's around each's other's aura and towards the other twin.

Nightmare feels his own magic reach him and it feels like a blast of cool air on a summer day. He lets himself follow it and-

His body burns by the positivity right before him and he jumps back. His tendrils helping Ngihtmare move back and away from Dream.

Dream lets out a loud sigh of relieve as he lets himself sink to his knees "Oh that feels so much better..."

Nightmare nods as he flexes a tendril "I agree."

A moment of silence and peace between the two as neither makes the move to attack first.

Dream speaks up first "I... I never realised how... how much just tiny bits of positivity hurt..."

Nightmare shurgs "You get used to it. and sometimes it is better to feel the sting than the alternative."

Dream nods as he shoots Nightmare a smile.

Nightmare frowns "You can say no."

Dream blinks "Excuse me?"

Nightmare sighs "You should say no sometimes. It is unhealthy to keep giving everything you have to everyone. especially if they don't actually need help or are even thankful or grateful for it." Nightmare shoots his brother an unimpressed look "Learn to manage your work/home life."

Dream blinks before laughing and shooting him a grin "You sound like Blue."

Nightmare nods "You should listen to him more then."

Another moment of peace before both their groups get to them. Neither feel much for fighting and both call for a retreat very quickly.

Both have a lot to think about anyways.

---------

"Wait?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AND YOUR TWIN HAD BEEN SWITCHED?! THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH!"

[faunandfloraas]

I love putting together gifts. I believe I'm very good at making things cute.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

I am reduced to a thing that wants you.

To a thing that looks for you in everyone, in everything, for a person I’ve only known for two days but also met one night eighty-six years ago, when I was twenty-six, when I still had a beating heart and a breath that could get caught.

I had always imagined myself marrying a soldier – mind you, I was a young adult while the Spanish Civil War took place, and my father was a general, so the thought is not that strange. And still, when I met them, when I attended those lame parties filled to the brim with pretty men with weary smiles and extreme politeness, there was nothing in them that I would want. Nothing that spoke to me. Maybe it was the epoch. Maybe it was my disposition. Maybe it was that I was always waiting for you, unknowingly.

Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you think my soul, perhaps, was alive before, in a different body, in a different city, country, continent? I used to think it could be, but not anymore. Because I’m confident you would have found me. Maybe once I was a Russian man named Vladimir that cultivated potatoes for a living and owned two cows. A simple life. Maybe I even had a wife and children. Two girls; Anastasia and Valeria. And yet, I’m still sure, that if that had happened, you would have known. You would felt the distortion in the air, in the universe, eventually appearing outside of my window, breaking into my house and falling in love with me, as I would with you. Because this is destiny.

Because I feel like there’s a sort of string, somewhere within me, connected to another string, somewhere within you. Unbreakable, warm. Like fire. Like the gift we both share.

I am the flame, your Flame, and you are the moth. But I won’t hurt you. I will envelop you and protect you and be the pyre in which you can burn all of your enemies, anyone who ever tries to harm you or keep us apart.

I don’t know if my writing makes any sense. I have never been able to put things into words as easily as others do. I am just… unrestrained action, no thought, as you probably know. I am just a person who loves you, who has missed you without remembering you.

Who wants a double casket and a house we can share.

Yours, always.

Cass

@j-ofspades

[heavenly-wintrr-arts]

I didnt show yall pinkie-pie either!!

[stargirlrchive]

simon’s work wife

one — two — three — four

cw: simon riley x fem reader, smut no plot like just literal sex

you would come to learn that simon was a very dedicated lover. he was—to put it simply—starved, and it appeared that you were the meal.

your mind had turned into a cloudy mess of desire as his thick, calloused finger ripped the flimsy elastic of your underwear. his hands moving to grip the soft part of your thighs to spread you open for him.

you had no time to be embarrassed at being so exposed because he was parting your lips and then nosing at your clit.

your back arched almost instantly, his tongue laying flat against your puffy clit and flicking over and over again. lips attaching to the soft nub to suck.

your hands didn’t know what to do, he was sucking the air right out of you. soft cries of pleasure tumbling out of your mouth as he worked you open.

“taste ev’n better than i imagined, sweetheart.”

your fingers moved to palm at you breast, your nipples pebbled and aching at all the pleasure he was giving you.

your body tensed beneath him as one of his thick, meaty fingers circled your entrance, gently dipping in the tip before pulling out, “relax f’r me, baby. gotta get ya’ ready f’r my cock.”

you nodded absentmindedly, only being able to focus on his mouth still tonguing at your clit and his finger dipping inside of you.

it was all too much yet not enough.

your face burned at the ease in which his finger entered you, a soft slick sound as he pumped into you steadily. he hummed softly, pulling away from your clit to watch as his finger disappeared inside of you, “ya’ always get this wet, doll?”

he didn’t give you time to respond, because soon after he was sinking a second finger into you. your breath getting caught in your throat at the stretch. his fingers pumping and curling, in and out—while he used his thumb to press against your clit.

his body slowly began to move upwards, pressing kisses as he went. from your thighs, to your stomach, up your breast—to which he gave special attention to. sucking your nipple into his mouth, fingers pumping into you rhythmically. then up your neck, finally to your mouth.

it was messy, one of his hands tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, neck straining as his mouth crashed into yours.

he was trying to devour you, tongue pushing into your mouth, teeth scraping against your lip and swallowing down every little noise of pleasure that left your mouth.

your pussy pulsed around his fingers, heating coiling low in your belly as his kiss pushed you over. he swallowed down your warbled moan of his name as he pumped into you over and over again.

your body grew pliant beneath his, limbs loosened and mind foggy as he nipped at your throat. “doin’ okay?”

you nodded lazily, fingers moving down to trail over his bare chest. your hand dipped down to the elastic of his sweat pants and he grunted, catching your wrist and cradling it to his chest. “use your words, doll.”

you whined softly, and a soft noise of amusement left simon’s mouth, “i’m more than okay. feel great.”

he huffed a laugh and brought your hand up so he could kiss your wrist, “ya’ don’t know how bad i’ve been wanting you like this.”

your hips tilted up, his cock pressing against your belly as your lips quirked up softly, “i have a guess.”

simon grunted lowly, pressing his hips down against you, nose trailing up your throat as he mumbled, “this what you wanted, hm?”

he hips rocked forward, rubbing right against your sensitive clit as you parted your legs further for him, “j’st needed someone to wife ya’ up, huh?”

your pussy pulsed at his words, fingers clawing into his back, desperately trying to get him closer to you. “such a sweet little thing, m’surprised ya’ weren’t already snatched up ‘nd filled.”

a noise of protest left your mouth as his hips lifted from yours, it was only for a second, just enough time for simon to pull his sweats down for his cock to slip out.

a heavy hand pulled one of your legs up, pressing your knee to your chest and your eyes nearly rolled back as simon spit onto your cunt. his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he pushed between your folds.

he used your slick and his spit to coat his cock, thrusting the tip against your clit before dragging his length back down to your entrance.

you couldn’t breathe, not as you felt the weight of his cock on you. even less as the head dipped into your warm pussy for the first time, “but don’t ya’ worry, sweetheart. g’nna fill ya’ up s’good.”

he grunted out a low ‘fuck’ as his cock finally pushed into you. your pussy was warm and snug, swallowing him down eagerly as you mewled beneath him.

it burned, he was big—you really shouldn’t have been so surprised that it felt like he was splitting you open. “relax, baby. doin’ so good.”

two of his fingers dipped between the both of you so he could tease at your puffy clit as he delivered short thrust into you. every inch that slid into you went in easier.

an almost feral smile gracing simon’s lips when he sunk into you completely. his pelvis pressed into yours, balls snuggly resting against your ass.

“fuck, takin’ it so well, sweet girl.”

you were a mess before he even began plowing into you. thick cock spearing you open again and again. his hands greedily cupping your breast, your hips—sometimes even pressing into your belly to make you feel even fuller.

desperate little noises left your mouth as he fucked into you deep and desperate. barely pulling his cock out before he’s sinking into you again—as if he can’t stand not being inside you.

grunts left simon’s mouth, rough little noises that had your pussy pulsing around his length. “ya’ g’nna let me cum inside ya’, baby? g’nna take it like a good girl?”

your nails dug into his back as he finally lowered your leg down, spreading your thighs apart to thrust deeper, his tip desperately knocking against the soft spot inside you that made you go dizzy. “yes—please!”

a thick hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes snapped open to look up at him and the look in simon’s eyes had your cunt tightening around him, “yeah, baby? should i turn my missus into a momma?”

a desperate noise left your mouth at his words, the coil that had tightened in your belly snapped as your body shook with your orgasm.

simon delivered a few shallow thrust into you before he was groaning roughly, warmth spread throughout your body as his cum filled your messy cunt.

simon pressed into you, his body weighing yours down but you felt too good to care. his nose trailing down your throat as his rough fingers massaged your aching muscles. soft praises and gentle touches were the last thing you had expected from your lieutenant, but he was as devoted to you as he was to the field.

“such a good little wife.”

[gh0stsp1d3r]

would you write dark!rafe x kidnapped!maybank!reader who’s developing stockholm syndrome & when the pogues find her shes worried about him cause jj hit him & he’s bleeding & doesn’t want to leave with them. rafe is all cocky about it but they forcefully take her home

- DEBT

div below by @/miuji, div above by @/cafekitsune

WARNINGS: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, dark!rafe, fighting, mentions of guns, blood, like one use of the word “good girl.” Reader is hinted at to be a little naive/dumb… Yeahh… this is fucked up I love it

AUTHORS NOTE: this is definitely not an accurate representation of Stockholm syndrome, but I tried my best ! Not proofread

Technically, this wasn’t even supposed to be the plan.

Him and Barry were meant to barge in, cover both ends of the house, and steal their money back. If JJ was there, one of them would keep him down. It was a solid plan, in their opinion.

Although, they had forgotten to take another factor into consideration. You.

JJ had mostly kept you shielded from the world, despite you being his older sister, he still cared about you and wanted to protect you. You’ve already been through so much with your dad, why add onto it? You took care of him before, now he’s taking care of you.

You were sitting on the bed, a book in front of your face with no care in the world. You had your headphones on full blast, mostly to block out the noise of the broken fridge and the noise of passing cars along the road near your house.

“Looks empty.” Barry spoke, Rafe nodding at him, pursing his lips.

“I’ll cover the rooms.” Rafe spoke, his heavy footsteps walking towards the narrow hallway. He paused for a moment when he heard the sound of faint music playing through one door, pushing his ear to the door.

He pulled his gun out, cocking it, fully preparing for JJ to be there.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t met with the sight of the blonde boy. Instead, he was met with the sight of pink walls and a white bed, with stuffed animals lined all on the back.

You looked up at him, letting out a scream and dropping your book. You raced to the drawer you knew had a gun hidden in it, but he was quicker, grabbing your wrist and holding it in a tight grip.

He pinned you down onto the bed, causing you let out a cry that was muffled when he put his hand over your mouth.

“Shut up, shut up!” He whisper yelled, you looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Yo, Rafe! What the fuck happened?” Barry asked as he barged into the room, looking between you and Rafe. You were sobbing at this point, confused and fearful.

“Shit…” he said with a rather amused chuckle, “Looks like we got ourselves somethin’ better than the money.”

Rafe ignored him, turning to look down at you now.

“If I take my hand off of your mouth, will you scream?”

You shook your head frantically, him letting go and holding his hands up, still pinning you to the bed. You looked between him and Barry, fear evident on your face. “What do you want?” You sobbed out, your voice broken.

God, you were pretty when you cried, Rafe thought to himself.

“We want to know where your brother put our damn money.” Barry spoke from behind Rafe.

“What- what money? I don’t know why you’re talking about.” You answered honestly.

Barry tsked, “It’s a nice lil room you got here, princess. Would hate for somethin’ to happen to it.” He spoke, picking a stuffed animal up off your bed.

“I’m being honest! I swear! He-he said something to his friend about him taking it somewhere, but I swear, I don’t know anything else!” You exclaimed, Rafe staring down at you, lightly shoving you further into the bed when you raised your voice.

“Don’t yell.”

“Oh, we believe you, sweetheart. But that’s the problem. See, your brother owes us a debt. A large one.” Barry murmured, “And if we don’t get our money… well… we need to take something, you know? Just to let him know we’re serious.”

Rafe looked to him with a furrowed eyebrow now.

“No, no, no, no-“ you began, “Please- I can-“

“Shh. Shh.” He told you, pressing a finger to his own lips. “I get it, you know, rough situation. But, until your brother gets us that money, I’m afraid we’re still owed somethin’. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Barry looked to Rafe, nodding. Rafe got off of you, pulling you off of the bed, and grabbed your hands, using a bandana, JJ’s bandana, off the floor, tying your arms and legs, and dragging you out of the house and throwing you into his truck.

You overheard a conversation up front with the two.

“Nah, man, I can’t keep her-“

“Bro, I live in a fucking trailer park. You live in a goddamned mansion.” Barry pointed to Rafe. “I ain’t got no room at my place. And if the cops come lookin’ for her, they more likely to trust you.”

Rafe sighed, nodding for a moment. “Shit, shit, alright.”

For weeks you fought against Rafe, screaming and yelling at him whenever you could.

You were tied up to the edge of his bed, so he could always keep an eye on you. Most of the time, he got annoyed, lashed out, and ended up putting tape over your mouth to shut you up.

You got tired, exhausted of fighting him. And you found yourself… simply letting go. It felt so much easier to do that, so much easier to listen, just so you wouldn’t have to hear his abuse.

There was ever so often he had a little compassion and sympathy for you. He would spoon feed you when you found yourself not eating or refusing to, and he would untie you when you complained about how your wrists hurt, letting you roam around the house, with him by your side, of course.

He even started to give you rewards for being a “good girl” as he said, dessert, time outside with him, little kisses on the forehead. It was his way of conditioning you.

You became dependent on him during your stay at Tannyhill, forcing you to become even closer with the boy.

And honestly, you learned to like it. Because that’s what you had to do in order to survive.

While Rafe was much more lenient now, even letting you sleep on his bed with him, though still tyed up, there was one thing he would not let you have.

Screen time.

Your face was plastered on the local news, a sweet little picture of you and your brother, your arms wrapped around each other, with a beaming smile on your face.

Shoupe even got on the news to talk about latest developments in the case- and there was only one that pointed to Rafe.

One of your neighbors squeaked and spoke about how they heard screaming coming from the house after they saw a black pick up truck drive past them. The sweet old neighbors went to check on you, but you weren’t home.

JJ spoke desperately, pointing to the picture as well, before the news switched to some other story.

Rafe clicked his teeth as he watched the news story, turning off the tv and making sure all his doors were locked. There’s no way someone would pick up on that. A black pick up truck could be anyone on the outer banks.

Sarah was the one to point out the fact that Rafe had a black pick up truck, and it was then that they realized that they had stolen from him and Barry.

JJ hopped on his bike, revving his engine and breaking a few speeding laws as he drove to figure eight.

You were sitting on the floor when Rafe walked back in, he grabbed your wrists, untying you, and making you stand up. He threw you over his shoulder, you letting out a surprised yelp at the action.

As soon as he went downstairs, he heard frantic knocking on the door, shouting and yelling of his name. Your head shot up, recognizing the voice.

“JJ?”

“Shit.” He mumbled, looking around for a moment, before looking to a closet. He shoved you in there, you looking around the large closet. He turned off the light, you looking at him now.

He put his finger to his mouth, telling you to be quiet. “Stay here, alright? You know what’s gonna happen if you don’t.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat, his warning hanging in the air as he shut the door to the closet, leaving you in the dark.

He walked to the front door, looking through the peephole to find JJ, Pope, John B, Sarah and Kie all standing outside. He was outnumbered, whether he’d like to admit it or not.

“The fuck do you want?” Rafe shouted, the pausing stopping for a moment.

“We know you have my sister!” JJ shouted angrily, “Where the fuck is she?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Rafe feigned confusion. “Are you serious right now?! You- you come here, asking me for your sister, a-accusing me of kidnapping her?! With no proof!” He stammered, his back facing the door, biting his nails, a nervous habit he’d picked up.

“You’re lying! Someone saw a black pick up truck at the house. We know it was you, Rafe!” Sarah shouted now.

“Listen, if you guys don’t leave, I’m gonna call the cops.”

“Then open the door! Prove it.” John B spoke now. Rafe thought for a moment, glancing at the hallway the closet was in, and sighing. He turned around, knowing they would be relentless and wouldn’t leave unless he opened the door, and turned the door knob.

“Happy?” He retorted, opening the door wide to show the empty house, although, it was then that JJ saw a figure peeking behind the wall.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed, your eyes widening and you retreating back inside, away from the door. Rafe looked back, his jaw clenching.

JJ bit the inside of his cheek, before he balled his hands into a fist, and threw a punch at Rafe.

Rafe chuckled as he took a step back, his hands going to his face, wiping off blood from his nose.

“You wanna go, Maybank?” He sneered, towering over the boy. He stepped outside, and got punched in the face again, before the both of them tumbled to the ground, John B joining in as well.

You watched the scene, your heart pounding against your chest and your eyes locked in on Rafe, getting hit and trying to hit your brother and his friend back.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You ran outside, shouting JJ’s name. He paused, all movement stopping to look at you. JJ got off of Rafe, going to hug you before you avoided him, stepping away from him.

Rafe had a small smile on his face, standing up as well. He stood next to you, you looking up at him with a small frown on your face.

JJ watched with his jaw slack as he watched you fret over Rafe, standing on your tippy toes and using your sweater sleeve to wipe the blood off his face.

“What the fuck? Y/n! He kidnapped you!” JJ exclaimed.

“Sorry, man. Guess your sister just…” he clicked his teeth, “likes me more.” He looked down at you with a cocky smile on his face, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You looked to JJ now, Rafe mumbling to you how he’s okay, and it’s nothing to worry about.

“Y/n… please- I know you want to go home.”

You glanced back up at Rafe, staring up at him for a moment, and turning back to JJ.

“He’s a good guy, Jay.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Rafe was grinning a like the chesire cat and the pogues looked even more confused.

“What the fuck?” John B mumbled under his breath, Sarah looking at Kiara with worry on both their faces.

In Popes mind, he was working out what this could be. That’s when it popped into his mind, the term. He’s learned it before through some book he read, his eyes drifting to Rafe.

“W-what? What are you talking about, y/n?” JJ asked, “Whatever- whatever mind control shit he did to you, it isn’t real, alright?”

“She has Stockholm syndrome.” Pope murmured, all eyes snapping to him now. Rafes eyes narrowed.

“Look, whatever bullshit you guys think I did to her, I didn’t, alright? So just..” he waved his hand, “go back to your side of the island, I don’t wanna see you here until I got my money, alright? Then we can talk ‘bout...” Rafe glanced at you. “But hey, that’s even if she wants to go back with you.”

JJ didn’t waste another moment, running towards Rafe and tumbling onto the ground with him, getting into the second fight of the day with him. You stepped back, shouting Rafe’s name, when you felt arms around your waist.

You screamed again, feeling someone pick you up off of the ground and throw you over their shoulder, you hitting your fists and kicking them.

“Let me go!”

John B threw you into the car, him shouting JJs name. They all got into the Twinkie, you being practically held down again, watching through the windows as Rafe stood up, his hand holding his jaw.

He panted, looking at the car, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He would get you and his money back, he’s sure of it.

Taglist:

@moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0

[clueless1995]

JUST REALISED THAT ALL THIS TIME I COULDVE BEEN MAKING TASKMASTER EDITS. NOBODY LOOK AT ME

[bblairxe]

love your posts sm! if you’re taking any reqs: ellie teasing reader about being a pillow princess but actually loves it 😣 reader tryna take control but ellie proving they are a in fact a pillow princess 😣

৻ꪆ cw : fem!reader , smut , 18+ , sub!ellie ish , dom!ellie towards the end , slight dom!reader , teasing , thigh riding , slight mocking

৻ꪆ wc : 1k

“okay, but, we both know you’re a pillow princess, babe.”

“i am not a pillow princess ellie!” you whine, slapping her arm playfully.

she erupts in giggles at your frustrations before composing herself, “yes you are. you have not topped or took control like, ever.”

you pull yourself onto ellie’s lap, straddling her. her hands instinctively find your waist, rubbing small, comforting circles on it. you both lock eyes, and you’re already crumbling underneath her gaze. the way her pupils dilate when she looks at you, the way she tilts her head whenever you start talking, and how her gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, it’s all so intoxicating.

you bite your bottom lip, determined to stay in control despite the effect she always seems to have on you. “maybe i just haven’t had the chance,” you murmur, your tone soft but steady.

ellie raises an eyebrow, “oh yeah? what’s stopping you now?”

her words send a spark of adrenaline throughout your body, and you press your hand above her shoulders, leaning closer until your faces are mere inches apart. “nothing,” you try to sound confident, even as your heart hammers in your chest.

your lips find ellie’s neck before she can squeak out another word. your tongue and lips suck mercilessly, leaving small reminders of tonight. you bring your other hand up under her shirt and toy at her nipples. she was always sensitive when it came to this, so you took it as an advantage.

you maneuver yourself down lower to the point you’re eye level with her chest, “so pretty els.” you mewl, giving her a small peck on each tit. wrapping your lips around her nipple, giving an occasional nibble. her whimpers grow louder with every movement over your tongue, as if she’s already submitting to you.

ellie’s head tilts back slightly, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. the little sounds slipping from her lips fuel your confidence. knowing you’re the only one making her feel like this, drawing those beautiful sounds from her is more than enough to make you feel unstoppable.

your lips trail back to her neck, teeth grazing her skin as you suck another purple mark into the blank canvas. her hands twitch at your sides, caught between letting you have your way and wanting to take back control.

“so sensitive,” you whisper against her ear, “i’m barely touching you, and you’re already whimpering for me like this.”

“s-shit babe, you feel good,” ellie groans, her tone is low, filled with desire, the sound shoots straight through you. her hips shift beneath you, and you feel her thigh press between your legs, but you don’t let her distract you, not yet.

your mouth finds its way back to her chest, tongue flicking over her nipple, as your finger toys with the other. ellie’s breath hitches, and her grip on your hips tightens as if she’s trying to ground herself.

you lift up and take her chin in hand, making her meet your gaze. her eyelids are heavy and her face is flushed a complete contrast to your confidence. “what was that about me being a pillow princess, hm?” you murmur, studying the lewd expression on her face. you swear you’ve won, you got her completely beneath you, at this point she’ll do anything you ask her to.

but the moment you see her eyes darken, you know that’s not true.

“oh, you’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?” ellie growls, her voice raspier now, as if she wasn’t just whining from your touch. before you can react, her hands move to your hips, gripping firmly and flipping the two of you.

your back hits the mattress and she’s on you in an instant, pinning you in place with her weight. her thigh slides between your legs, pressing against the area you need her most.

“let’s get one thing straight, baby,” ellie mutters, her lips brushing your ear as she grinds you against her. “you’re cute when you try, but we both know who’s really in control.”

the feeling of her bare thigh against your cunt is dizzying, and all your ‘dominance’ from earlier dissolves as she takes over completely, you can tell she’s not stopping.

“thought you had me there for a second, hm?” she says, her tone smug and breathless, “come on, say it. say you’re my pillow princess.”

you shake your head weakly, refusing to give her what she wants. “i’m not a, ah fuck, not a p-pillow princess, els.” you manage, words barely audible from the whines escaping your throat.

ellie chuckles lightly at your stubbornness, her fingers trailing up and down your skin. she presses open mouthed kisses along your jawline, and it sends you reeling. the feeling of ellie all over you is dizzying. you want more of her, you need to be filled with her fingers.

she notices your doe-eyed expression, she can tell you need something but won’t say it, so she presses further. “you want me to fuck you right, angel?” she murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear, “then tell me, say those four sweet words for me, love.”

you hesitate at first but when she replaces her thigh with her hand, feeling her slender fingers coat her fingers in your slick, you give in.

“i, i’m y-your pillow princess, ellie.” you whisper, you feel your face immediately heat up as the forbidden words leave your lips, turning your head to face away from her.

“that’s what i thought,” ellie murmurs, leaning back just enough to take in the dazed look on your face. her smirk softens into something almost affectionate as she presses a kiss to your jaw. “my pretty little pillow princess.”

the words make your cheeks burn, and though you want to protest, all that comes out is a shaky, “ellie . . .”

“shh,” she soothes, her hands slowing their movements just enough to make you crave more. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll take care of you. like i always do.”

[loves4ge]

tattoo artist!au, cw: partial nudity, mdni

choso can feel his heart stutter in his chest, bumping against his ribcage. god, who just walked in? the pen he's using to draw in his tablet clatters to the ground, though he can't be bothered to pick it up because he is too busy staring at you.

oh, you, with your lovely little dress hitching near the middle of your thigh. strappy sandals and painted nails, you have him hooked. the parlor is dimly lit and smells of ink and paper and alcohol. the kind that's used for cleaning wounds and not the one that you get drunk on with your friends on friday nights. he doesn't even hear your words and you have to repeat them.

"sorry, what did you say?" he sounds out of breath despite not doing any physical exertion. and you grin, that smile would put the sun to shame.

"that's alright. i wanted to get a tattoo but i wasn't sure if you accepted walk-ins?" you trail off towards the end in an inquiring tone. you know that they don't. it's their pinned post on social media.

he does not accept walk-ins. "sure we do, what do you have in mind?"

your eyes brighten, grinning even wider, and choso thinks he might just die and go to heaven right now. he can't stop glancing at you when you show him the designs on your phone.

"where do you want it done?" he asks at the end, opening a blank page on his tablet to finalize a design. you can't help but observe him, leaning over the counter, hair in two twin ponytails and eyeliner done to perfection.

"i was thinking my hip? like if i wore a bikini, i want the tattoo to be partially obscured by the bikini bottoms." choso thinks he may as well have short-circuited with the speed his brain is malfunctioning. you notice his delayed response and almost cooed. he's shy.

this isn't the first time a client has asked for a tattoo in a risqué position, and he's never batted an eye at nudity either. but he's entirely unsure of himself when you strip down to your panties (you ended up taking off the short dress, though you did wear a cami underneath it), and he's thinking maybe he does have a problem with nudity after all (most people call this problem an erection, but choso's not that crude).

"you're gonna have to pull it aside, or i can cut it off." he doesn't specify which part, and now your eyes widen.

swallowing thickly, you ask, "what do you mean?" you know what he means, but you sort of hope he meant something else.

"the side of your underwear, we can just cut a slit—oh," he understands what his previous sentence sounded like when he sees your face contort into disbelief and then promptly dissolve into relief.

he doesn't look at you directly, "sorry, i don't know why i said that. it's, oh god, sorry to make you uncomfort—" he's cut off by your words of understanding.

"it's my fault really. i swear i'm not uncomfortable. really, choso." oh, the money he'd pay to hear his name leave your lips again.

"…if you say so. i'll use the scissors now, if that's okay?" you nod, smiling to encourage him. god knows he needs no encouragement to cut off your panties. there's silence in the parlor except for the sound of fabric being cut. he hands you a small towel to cover whatever you need to, but you just place it to the side. you know what you're doing. choso isn't sure if you're an angel or the devil.

he makes sure his ponytails aren't loose and puts on some nitrile gloves, black like his hair. you're wondering if you should break the silence, make some small talk, put the boy out of his misery, or just let the tension simmer.

"i really like the face tattoo thing you've got going on." he snaps up to look at you, then immediately reddens. his fingers hover above the black stripe across his face.

"yeah?"

"mhm." you lift your hand, thumbing his cheek where the tattoo ends. he's still the entire time.

you'd be the death of him.

with careful hands, he sanitizes the part of your hip where the tattoo would go on. he may have taken a little bit longer than usual, his fingertips pressing into your skin with the thin layer of an alcohol wipe acting as a barrier. your skin is soft, and he wants to grip your hips more actively. without the façade of a tattooist doing his job.

you're not feeling calm anymore, and in a sudden fit of unadvised decision-making, you grab choso's wrist (this choice was not peer-reviewed by your groupchat, but at the moment you find it in yourself that you don't really care). he startles but doesn't say anything.

"i'm nervous," you murmur. he instantly softens, melts, and reaches out to grab your shoulder in a sort of platonic 'i'm there for you' way. you're not planning to be platonic.

"that's alright lovely, everybody gets nervous before tattoos. it's more common than you think. would you like water?" his voice is soothing, and the way his lips move. you know what you need. you know what would calm you down.

"i know another way we can get rid of my nerves."

"mm, how so?"

"kiss me."

he almost chokes. he looks at your dead serious expression.

he is so fucked.

[laswells-ashtray]

Ghost doesn't mind attention. He's used to eyes on him. He wears a mask and has a reputation for being a proficiently merciless man. The sound of his footsteps paired with a man of his stature tends to incite fear in people, his own or those he's yet to plant in the ground.

Simon is also used to the attention. He knows he's attractive, and he's dealt with his fair share of people flirting with him. He has big shoulders, the type of nose that's just on the right side of crooked so that people fawn over it and thighs like tree trunks. It attracts interest.

Simon likes the attention, he likes being flirted with and he enjoys the varying compliments he receives from different kinds of people. The older men who call him a pretty boy despite him towering over them, and the women tell him they'd like to climb him like a tree and find out exactly how good his wood is. His favourite is the bartenders who slip him a free drink alongside their number.

He likes the attention, appreciates being showered with lustful gazes after years worth of getting the shit beaten out of him and collecting scars like they're vintage stamps.

He doesn't like the action. Sickened by the feeling of men grabbing his jaw and yanking him into sloppy kisses as their scruff grazes his cheek. The sticky feeling of lip gloss and the taste of vodka from some blonde who'd parked herself in his lap and tried to stick her tongue in his mouth almost triggers his gag reflex.

He likes feeling wanted, he doesn't like being pushed.

So, when he ends up entangled with Nikolai and John, he's hesitant to tell the two other men.

John is tactile, he enjoys his little Price pats. He likes standing close enough that he can feel the warmth from someone else's shoulder. And he likes sitting with his legs spread out far enough that his knees knock into the knee of the person beside him.

Nikolai is openly affectionate. He's quick to draw someone in for a hug, encompassing them with his arms and trapping them with his smile. He likes to stand with an arm around someone's waist, finger hooking in their belt loop. He brushes his thumb across any available skin, tracing scars and stretchmarks like they're a divine beauty he's been blessed to touch.

But the two men don't seem to mind.

If they sit on the couch together, Nikolai will end up with John half sitting on his lap within twenty minutes of whatever movie they're watching together as he trails his thumb over one of the more prominent scars on John's forearm. John will slump against him and grumble whenever Nikolai moves.

Sometimes Simon will sit with his leg up on the couch, toes digging into John's thigh without hearing a complaint from his captain. Sometimes he won't.

Sex is a lot more talkative than he's used to. They both ask him if he's okay, and they check in while in the middle of things just to make sure that everyone is comfortable. If Simon seems unsure then they stop and work out a better arrangement between the three of them, taking into consideration everyone's wants and needs.

Some nights he's three fingers deep in John's arse and tormenting his prostate with a sniper's accuracy rate as the other man sucks Nik off and tries not to cum while doing so.

Other nights he's sat in Nikolai's lap as the Russian gropes at his tits while John presses his nose into the wiry blonde curls at the base of his cock and swallows around him just to hear the wanton moan that escapes Simon's mouth and surely earns them a noise complaint.

They never complain about his avoidance when it comes to kissing, it's never a point of contention or friction. Sometimes John nuzzles his face into Simon's shoulder sleepily after they make him cum three times and he'll run a hand through John's hair. Sometimes Nikolai will lean over him to get something from the fridge whilst Simon is grabbing himself a drink, he'll let their hands touch and smile at Nikolai's pleased huff.

He'll watch the two of them kiss throughout the day. Nikolai pressing a kiss on John's cheek whenever he walks by him. John kissing Nikolai's knuckles when the pilot accidentally hits a cabinet and splits his knuckle.

He knows when he's comfortable enough with the both of them and he contemplates saving it for a nice, romantic moment. He doesn't because if there's anything he likes to do it's tease the two men.

So, he waits until they're having sex. Until John tries desperately to arch up, Nikolai pinning the captain's hips in his lap and keeping him firmly planted on his cock as John cums in Simon's mouth.

Then he pulls off of the other man's spent cock, crawls his way onto the bed and pulls John up into a kiss.

John is so caught off guard by the sudden action that it takes him a second to realise that Simon is using the kiss to feed his own cum into his mouth. When he does realise, he's grabbing at his lieutenant's shoulders and moaning into his mouth.

Only when John swallows does he pull back and lean over him to kiss Nikolai, with John's spend on his lips. The Russian nips at his bottom lip before licking it clean.

He considers it worth the wait.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Over and Over Again

Remus Lupin x Muggle!Reader

Summary: The legend of soulmates and the myth of endless lives tied to one another permanently was once a myth you don't believe. Until you met Remus Lupin.

WC: 4k

CW: Angst no comfort- The reader and Remus's depiction crosses gender and species lines. Hogwarts Legacy reference. Animal death and blood- so much death-

The pub smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke, the kind of scent that lingered in the wood and clung to the air, no matter how many windows were cracked open. The low hum of music played from an old jukebox in the corner, the neon glow of its lights flickering with age.

It was familiar, comforting in a way that only a Muggle pub on a Friday night could be.

You spun your drink in your hands, watching the ice swirl lazily in your glass as Lily Evans leaned against the table beside you. She looked radiant as always, her fiery red hair gleaming under the dim lights.

“I swear,” She promised for the fifth time. “You're going to love them. Just… be nice to Peter, and for the love of Merlin, don’t ask Sirius about his family.”

You frowned. “For the love of Merlin?”

Lily’s lip twitched.. “Ah- Just… an expression. The boys use it a lot.”

You raised an eyebrow but let it go. Lily had always been a little odd, but she was your odd, your best friend since childhood.

She had been gone for the last few years, tucked away in that mysterious boarding school she never let you visit. Every time she came back to visit, she seemed… different. Like she was carrying secrets she could never fully explain.

Tonight was the first time she was introducing you to her boyfriend- James- and his friends. You had spent years watching her fall out of the abusive cycle of friendship she harbored with Severus Snape- you almost felt bad for him. If only he'd grown up too.

You had, in equal turn, been berated with letters about the slimeball that was James Potter. Just to see her ink blots lighten and her words becoming more fond when it came to his name- you were excited to meet him.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked up as the door to the pub swung open.

A burst of laughter and energy filled the pub as a group of four young men stepped inside, shaking off the damp chill of the London evening.

You saw James first, instantly recognizing him from the photos Lily had shown you. He was all messy hair and glasses, grinning like he owned the world- but the way his gaze immediately sought out Lily made your heart warm.

Then there was Sirius Black, effortlessly handsome, carrying himself with the swagger of someone who knew he could have anyone he wanted, but still acted like he was above it all. His dark leather jacket and roguish smirk screamed trouble.

Beside him was Peter Pettigrew, shorter than the rest, with darting eyes and an almost nervous energy, like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

And then there was the fourth boy- no- man.

The second your eyes landed on him, it was like the entire world narrowed.

Remus Lupin.

He was quieter than the others, his posture a little more reserved. He wasn’t as flashy as James or Sirius but something was still there.

Something in the way he held himself- not quite shying away, but not fully stepping into the spotlight either. His soft sandy blonde hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it too many times. His face was lean, cheekbones sharp beneath tanned skin, marred by faint scars that ran across his features. But it was his eyes that caught you.

Warm, golden-brown, and filled with something ancient, something tired, something achingly familiar. Your stomach flipped.

Lily’s voice jolted you from whatever spell had momentarily trapped you.

“Come on,” She squeaked, tugging you forward with a grin. “Let me introduce you.”

Your legs felt unsteady as you followed her through the crowded pub, weaving between groups of laughing strangers. The boys turned as you approached, James immediately scooping Lily into a hug and pressing a kiss to her temple. You barely registered it.

Your focus was on Remus, who was watching you with the strangest look you'd ever seen.

Somewhere between horror and intrigue.

Lily cleared her throat, oblivious to the strange, charged silence between you and Remus.

“Alright, boys,” she said, grinning. “This is her.”

James turned away from Lily just long enough to flash you a charming, lopsided smile. “The infamous childhood best friend!” He declared. “Blimey, I was starting to think you were just a legend.”

You let out a short laugh. “Well, I assure you, I’m very real.”

Sirius tilted his head, appraising you. “We’ll see about that,” he mused, then smirked. “The real question is- are you cool enough to be seen with us?”

“Oh, definitely not,” You deadpanned. “I’m a disgrace to all things cool.”

James barked out a laugh. “I like her!”

Lily rolled her eyes but was smiling.

Meanwhile, Remus hadn’t moved.

He was still looking at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes- those deep, golden eyes- seemed locked onto you, as if he was trying to piece something together, trying to solve something that had no answer.

You met his gaze.

“Remus.” He whispered and you muttered your own name back to him without a second thought. And he smiled, lifted his hand-

The moment your fingers brushed as you shook his hand- it happened.

A bolt of pure, electric familiarity shot through your body, rattling every bone in your frame. The pub melted away, the noise, the people, the dim glow of the jukebox- everything faded into a swirl of golden light and rushing wind.

The world around you vanished. The dim pub, the chatter, the clinking of glasses- all of it was swallowed by the sudden rush of something else. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind through tall golden grass. The scent of fresh earth, sun-warmed fields, and damp fur filled your senses.

And then, you were there…

You were small, swift, your body light as you darted between the tall stalks of wheat. A fox, red-furred and wild, your sharp nose twitching as you ran through the fields.

And behind you, paws pounding against the earth, was him.

A hound.

Lanky, golden-furred, and young, still growing into his paws. His ears flopped when he ran, tongue lolling as he chased after you, barking playfully.

He was supposed to hunt you. But instead, he chased you.

Every day, when his master wasn’t looking, he sneaked away from the farmhouse, bounding over the hills to find you. Together, you would race through the fields, rolling in the wildflowers, playing until the sun dipped below the trees.

Free, weightless. Soft fur against rough wheat and playfully snapping jaws. Then- Pain. Sharp, sudden pain.

A snapping sound- cold metal clamping down around your hind leg. A trap.

You yelped, twisting, trying to free yourself, but it was tight, unrelenting. The more you pulled, the more it bit into your flesh, blood staining the grass beneath you.

And he- your hound- panicked.

He barked wildly, circling you, nudging you with his nose. He tried to paw at the trap, but he was just a dog- he couldn’t undo his master’s cruel work.

You whimpered, eyes wide, pleading. He threw his head back and howled, loud and desperate, as if somehow, that would bring help.

And help did come. But not the kind he wanted. The farmer arrived. Gun in hand.

The hound whimpered, barking frantically, placing himself between you and his master. But he was a dog. And a dog’s loyalty belonged to its owner. Even when his heart was breaking.

The farmer raised his rifle.

A deafening bang-

Darkness.

The darkness faded, but you didn’t wake up in the pub.

Instead, you were staring at your own reflection in a gilded mirror.

A face- not quite your own, but one you knew belonged to you.

Your hair was woven into delicate braids, strands of pearls threaded through like drops of moonlight. A soft silk gown pooled around you, its fabric cool against your skin. The weight of a crown sat heavy atop your head, a reminder of your fate- one you had never chosen, one you had never wanted.

And behind you- fingers grazing your bare shoulder as they fastened a necklace-

Was her.

Your Lupin.

But not as you knew him.

A woman, dressed in modest, elegant gowns, a lady-in-waiting, her golden-brown eyes lowered in the practiced deference of a servant.

But she was not just a servant.

She was your dearest friend. She was your first love.

She was the one who walked with you through moonlit gardens, whispering stories of ancient myths. The one who pressed flowers into the pages of your books, so that when you opened them, they smelled like spring.

She was the one you could never have.

Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way that made your chest ache, that made your fingers tremble when they brushed against hers, that made your heart scream for a different fate.

Not in the way that had offended your betrothed.

Not in the way that would get you both killed.

You turned in your chair, reaching for her.

Her fingers lingered at the nape of your neck, hesitant, uncertain, as if she wanted to stay there forever- but knew she could not.

She met your gaze in the mirror when you looked back.

Golden-brown eyes, filled with longing and sorrow.

She knew, too.

She had always known.

You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat. The distant sound of shouting, the clang of metal, the burning of the city below- it was getting louder.

“…Do you ever wish we could leave?” You whispered.

Her breath caught. A hesitation.

“…Every day,” She admitted. And your heart broke for her. For yourself.

For the life that could never be.

The chaos below grew closer- the sound of swords clashing, boots pounding up the castle steps. They were coming.

There was no time. No future. No way out.

Your fingers lifted, brushing against her cheek. Soft. Warm. Alive.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her lips parting slightly, her eyes flickering with fear, with need, with desperation-

And then you kissed her.

Not a soft thing. Not a hesitant thing.

But something urgent, something burning, something filled with the desperation of two lovers who knew they were out of time.

A kiss of fury, of grief, of love too big to be contained in a world too small for it.

She pulled you closer, her fingers digging into the silk of your gown, holding you, clutching you, clinging to you like she could tether herself to this moment, to you-

Then-

The doors burst open.

The room filled with shouting, with the gleam of blades, with the iron grip of soldiers as they stormed forward, tearing you apart.

You screamed, struggling against them, fighting, kicking, clawing, biting-

But your fate had already been sealed.

You saw her, your Lupin, your love, your heart, struggling, screaming your name, reaching for you-

And then- A soldier’s blade pierced your chest.

Cold. Sharp.

The world lurched, twisted- And then-

Darkness.

London was a city of smoke and gold. It was filth and grandeur, a place where the rich dined beneath glittering chandeliers while the poor shivered in the streets below.

And in the middle of it all- between the gas lamps and cobblestone alleys, between the choking smog and the perfume of wealth- you ran.

Your boots hit the pavement with a quiet rhythm, quick and light, barely making a sound as you weaved through the bustling crowds of Westminster Market. Your coat was patched and thin, your gloves fingerless, your stomach empty.

But that didn’t matter.

Because in your pocket, you now held a gold pocket watch.

Your lips curled in triumph. It was a beautiful thing- heavy, shining, the kind that belonged to someone important. Someone who wouldn’t even miss it.

Or so you thought.

Because just as you turned the corner into a shadowed alley, a hand closed around your wrist. Your breath caught.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to fight, to flee-

But then you looked up. And your world shifted.

Him.

A man, tall and fine-boned, wrapped in an elegant dark coat. His hair was soft brown, windswept, his golden-hazel eyes piercing in the dim light. He was young, maybe only a few years older than you, but there was something about him that felt older- as if he had lived a hundred years before this moment.

And despite catching you red-handed, his expression wasn’t one of anger. No.

It was curiosity.

Amusement, even.

His grip loosened, just slightly. “You’re quick,” He panted, voice smooth as silk, his accent refined.

“Not quick enough, but still. Impressive.”

You swallowed, heart pounding against your ribs. “Let go of me.”

“You stole from me,” He pointed out.

You smirked. “You can afford it.”

He actually laughed at that, low and warm, before slowly prying his pocket watch from your fingers. But he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you, like he was trying to place you. Like he had seen you before.

“…What’s your name?” He asked, softer now.

You hesitated. Giving your name was dangerous in your line of work. But something about him- something familiar, something achingly familiar- made you whisper it anyway. His lips parted slightly, his grip on your wrist faltering.

And then- he whispered his own name.

A strange, unspoken recognition passed between you.

Like a secret. Like a memory half-forgotten.

Weeks Passed.

And somehow, against all reason, you kept finding him.

Or perhaps, he kept finding you. He was wealthy, but he was not cruel. A scholar, an artist, a man who saw the world in soft strokes of poetry and charcoal sketches.

And despite your differences- a boy from the slums and a gentleman of high society- you kept returning to him. Perhaps because he never treated you like a criminal.

He treated you like something else entirely. Something important.

Something he was afraid of losing.

One night, beneath the glow of gas lamps, you let him trace the lines of your face with careful fingers.

“You keep looking at me like you know me,” you murmured. His lips parted, breath shallow.

“…Maybe I do.”

And then, before either of you could think- You kissed him. The world tilted, time stretched thin between you, and for a moment, it felt like something had finally fallen into place.

Like this had happened before.

Like it had happened a thousand times before.

But fate, cruel as always, was waiting. Because London was not kind to men like you. It was not kind to pickpockets caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was not kind to a street thief who had stolen more than just coins and watches- who had stolen the heart of a man who should never have looked his way.

You never saw it coming.

One moment, you were running through the streets, laughing, alive- and the next, the constables had you by the collar, dragging you through the mud.

You never had the chance to say goodbye.

They didn’t let him see you before the sentencing. But he was there when they dragged you to the gallows.

And as the noose was slipped around your throat, you searched the crowd- desperate, desperate to find him.

And you did.

His face was pale, his hands clenched into fists, his golden-brown eyes filled with helpless horror. You had seen that look before.

The executioner read your crimes. You kept your eyes on Remus.

And in that final moment- As the platform dropped beneath your feet- As the world fell away- As you left him behind.

You thought you heard him scream.

Then, darkness.

Then- you were back home, in Feldcroft. The sun setting outside the small cottage, casting warm, golden light across the wooden floors. The air smelled of burning wood and herbs, a familiar scent- one that had lingered in your childhood.

And you?

You were at the table, a book in hand, curled up in your favorite chair. The world was quiet. Peaceful. But then-

Hands suddenly gripped your shoulders.

You gasped, nearly dropping your book- only to be met with a familiar grin, a familiar laugh, full of mischief and warmth.

“Sebastian!” You scolded, playfully swatting at him. “You scared me half to death!”

He only grinned wider, stepping back before tossing something small into your hands. A shrivelfig.

“For you,” he said with a wink. “It’ll make you stronger, you know.”

Before you could reply, another hand snatched it away.

“Absolutely not,” Solomon Sallow’s stern voice cut through the air. Your uncle gave Sebastian a look of pure warning, his eyes sharp with disapproval. “She doesn’t need you sneaking around with magic. She needs rest. A shrivel Fig cannot reverse a curse.”

Sebastian scoffed, his jaw tightening. “She needs more than just rest, Uncle. If we’d just-”

Your heart clenched. You had heard this argument a hundred times before.

Sebastian’s obsession with finding a cure.

Solomon’s desperate attempts to keep him away from dark magic.

And you- caught in the middle, growing weaker by the day.

A sudden wave of pain shot through you. You winced, gripping the table, your breath hitching. Immediately, Sebastian was at your side, one hand on your shoulder, concern darkening his features.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice urgent. “Are you alright?”

Solomon tensed, his gaze hardening. “Do you see what I mean, boy?”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed with anger. “I wouldn’t-”. But Solomon was already dragging him toward the door.

“Enough,” He snapped. “Outside. Now.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth but followed. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the house in silence.

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes.

And then- A presence. Someone still here. You opened your eyes-

And met his.

Remus. From Sebastian’s letters.

He was watching you from across the room, hesitation written in every tense line of his body. He hadn’t followed them outside. He had stayed.

Slowly, he stepped forward, then knelt down beside your chair. His golden-brown eyes, warm and steady, studied you, searching for something.

He reached out- then hesitated.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re alright,” He said softly.

The words unraveled you.

No one ever said it. No one ever acknowledged the truth- that you were dying. That it was okay. That you could be seen in the smallest of moments and the shortest of times- without needing to be fixed.

Sebastian fought against it.

Solomon ignored it.

But he saw it.

And somehow, that made it real. You swallowed hard. “I’m not pretending.”

He gave you a look, one that said he didn’t believe you.

Then, without another word- he sat beside you. And that was all.

At first, he was just a friend.

Sebastian had introduced him- a quiet but sharp-witted student, someone with more patience than most.

Someone who- unlike Sebastian- believed that saving you meant more than just breaking every rule. And yet, despite his caution, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

He would sit with you during your worst days, reading aloud from books when you were too weak to lift them yourself.

He would walk with you through Feldcroft, letting you lean against him when the world became too much.

And when Sebastian grew more reckless, diving further into dark magic, forbidden spells, anything that might bring you back from the brink-

Remus fought to hold him back.

But it wasn’t enough. Sebastian went too far. The darkness took root.

And even when he destroyed Solomon, even when he sacrificed everything- It still wasn’t enough.

But for Remus, no. For Remus it was enough. To sit by you, by the fire. To listen to you talk in your final moments. Your uncle gone and your brother lost to his mind.

He reached out and placed a hand over yours. And when your fingers interlocked, he sighed. Staring at the fire, until your fingers loosened around his hand.

Until, darkness.

The Pub, 1978

The world slammed back into place. The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke filled your lungs, the dim glow of the jukebox flickered in your peripheral vision. Laughter and conversation hummed around you. The wood beneath your fingers was real. Solid. Present.

But your body? Your mind? You had been somewhere else.

Across from you, Remus was shaking.

His breath came quick, his golden-brown eyes blown wide- not with confusion, but recognition. His hand still hovered where it had just brushed against yours, his fingers trembling like they had touched something far more than skin.

Something ancient.

Something inevitable.

You knew him.

Not just from this pub. Not just from this life. You knew him from a hundred lifetimes ago. From the fox and the hound. From the princess and her lady-in-waiting. From the thief and the gentleman. From Feldcroft. From every time you had found him- and every time you had lost him.

And now?

Now you were back.

His lips parted slightly, a breathless sound escaping, like he wanted to say something- like he didn’t know what he could possibly say.

You swallowed, heart pounding, the weight of a thousand lives pressing against your ribs.

“Remus,” You echoed again.

His fingers curled into a fist. His entire body tensed. And then, just as you saw him understand, just as his expression shifted, just as the words I remember nearly fell from his lips-

The door to the pub slammed open.

The moment shattered.

And then?

He did nothing.

Because what could he do?

What could you do?

Say it out loud? Confess to an impossible truth? Tell him that you had died in his arms over and over again?

That this time- this life- he had to stop it?

So you didn’t say anything.

You just sat there. Staring at each other.

Breathing.

And for now, that had to be enough.

Because in every life before, you had never feared the darkness. Just the loss.

~~~

The Great Hall buzzed with conversation. The sorting ceremony had ended, students were chatting excitedly, the feast had just begun. Plates were piled high, goblets filled with pumpkin juice.

Across the room, Teddy Lupin laughed, running a hand through his hair, which shifted colors between turquoise and soft brown as he spoke. His friends chuckled at something he said, shoulders bumping together, the easy comfort of a childhood spent side by side.

Then-

A hand brushed against his.

His laughter stilled.

The world tilted.

It was nothing.

A casual moment, an accidental touch. A transfer student- someone new, someone unfamiliar- reaching across the table to pass a plate of pastries.

But the second their fingers touched-

A jolt.

Something cold and distant- like the echo of a dream he couldn’t quite recall.

Teddy’s fingers twitched. His breath hitched. The transfer student blinked, eyes flickering to his face, lips parting slightly, as if they had felt it too- as if they knew.

Teddy swallowed. His heart pounded.

And then-

He pulled his hand away.

Just a little too fast. Just a little too tense.

His friends didn’t notice. The conversation continued around them. But the transfer student frowned, staring down at their hand for a moment too long, brows furrowing, like they had just remembered something they weren’t supposed to.

Teddy flexed his fingers beneath the table.

His mind whispered something.

Something about foxes and hounds.

Something about princesses and Ladies.

Something about picked pockets.

Something about darkened pubs and stolen moments.

Something about a name.

A name that felt like his and not his, all at once.

The world lurched- but just for a second.

And then?

The moment passed.

Teddy shook his head, forced a smile, and reached for his goblet like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just felt the weight of every life before this one.

Like he hadn’t just remembered exactly what came next.

[darknanigans]

discord doodles :))

friend made gabv1el real in tomodachi life

stawp stretching my clothes boy!!!!

part of my little gijinka anime/VN au

gabpia real not fake oh my god (copia is giving him a grucifix as a pressie)

[coco-loco-nut]

Fortnight

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

summary: you were never cut out to be a WAG

a/n: guys i really like this one so i hope you love it too 🤍

masterlist ttpd masterlist

_______

“Oh my god, we need to get you help,” your best friend, Logan, gasps, walking in on you, three beers deep. You are sitting on the floor of your bedroom, Lando’s too when he’s actually home, the curtains closed, dirty clothes scattered on the floor. What he doesn’t know is that this is your normal.

“I’m fine,” you don’t even slur. Your phone is discarded to the side, beside the latest apology flowers given -shipped- to you by your supposedly loving boyfriend. You haven’t picked up his last couple calls, so he sent your friend to check in.

“Come on, get up and shower while I clean all this, and you call Lando after,” Logan sighs, pulling you off the floor as you finish the beer.

You begrudgingly walk to the bathroom, your friend setting out a fresh change of clothes. “Just, don’t tell Lando. He’s stressed enough,” you tell him, closing the door once you get a confirmation.

Twenty minutes later, you are sitting on the edge of the sink, phone ringing.

“Babe, are you okay, you haven’t been answering?” Lando asks, his worried voice makes a pit in your stomach.

“Lan, I’ve just been a little busy, that’s all. Sorry for worrying you. Are you okay?” despite him being the reason the reason for your recent state, you don’t want him to be hurt.

You miss breaks, when he would be with you all the time, now it seems like you only see each other in passing, like good neighbors who make that corny comment about the weather.

Lando finds you in a similar position as your friend did, except this time you are crying on the floor, not drunk. He got a couple free days off and is eager to spend them with you.

“Darling, what happened?” he kneels down beside you, his voice making you cry harder. “Baby,” his voice and heart breaks as you look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks.

“I-,” you gas for air. “I love you, Lando. It’s ruining my life,” each sob breaks his heart.

“No, no. Don’t say that,” he pleads, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Do you know the longest amount of time we’ve spent together? 14 days, a fortnight. I can’t keep doing this. The apology gifts for missed moments, the quick phone calls that are hardly passable for time spent together,” you pause to catch your breath, the tears still flowing. “I can’t do this, Lando. I miss home, I miss America,” your eyes meet his, both of you broken.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were struggling this much,” he whispers, sitting down and pulling you into him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you look away, the feeling of him foreign.

“I’m off the next couple days, let’s work on us,”

“Lando-,”

“And I’ll bring you to more races even though I know you find it hard to get off of work,”

“Lando-,”

“Please don’t say it,” he whispers, kissing you. Another foreign feeling.

“I’m moving back to America, tomorrow,” you tell him, feeling like you’ve hit absolute rock bottom. Lando looks around the bedroom, realizing the only thing of yours left was your packed suitcase in the corner.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asks, your eyes not able to meet his.

“I was going to visit you in Woking tonight,” the silence that falls between you is deafening. You spend the night in separate rooms, and in the morning he insists on driving you to the airport. He gets out of the car, pulling your suitcase out for you.

“Please don’t go,” he asks one last time, the both of you crying.

“I have to, Lando. It’s what’s best for both of us,” you step closer to him.

“Winter break is almost here, please, just a little longer. This isn’t what’s best for me,” Lando says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love you, Lan, but you deserve someone who can be with you at each race and support you more than I can,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You are always enough for me, I love you,” he cries.

“Please, Lan, I have to put myself first,” you grab your luggage handle and take a step back.

“I won’t block your number, if you ever need anything or are in London, call me, I’ll be there at the drop of a hat,” Lando says, his tear stained cheeks glistening in the sun. His offer is a complete change to how your relationship was.

“Goodbye, Lando,” you turn around, walking into the airport. You hand covers your mouth as you sob, refusing to turn back and look at an equally distressed Lando.

You refuse to check social media, only texting your family and Logan when you land in Miami. You knew Logan from karting before you quit, and he became your closest friend. He offered his apartment in Miami to you until you buy your own.

You quickly got a job and moved to Destin, a whole 9 hours away from Miami, 11 from Austin. Florida is treating you a lot nicer, but you feel stuck in an endless February. You took the magic move on pill that is relocating, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You changed your phone number when you got back to the US, and deleted your social media apps. Lando tried calling you and DM-ing you, but never got a reply.

“I will fly you down, please just come and support me. I need you at my home race,” Logan begs, wanting you to take a two week vacation to spend time with him in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. Something deep inside you agreed, so you pack your bags and hit the road, electing to drive.

You arrive the Wednesday before race week, and stay until the Wednesday after race week. It is nice because you can visit your own family too.

“I got you a paddock pass,” Logan says as you both lay on the beach the day you got in.

“Lo, I can’t go back there,” you turn your head to look at him.

“You can stay in Williams, you don’t have to go visit Oscar when I do,” Logan says, referencing the Australian who is also staying with Logan. Oscar promised he wouldn’t tell Lando you were in town.

“You know, I can get you a much nicer car than your Mercedes,” Oscar says, sitting beside you. Logan gets up to grab two waters.

“A McLaren? Not my thing, I hated driving,” you can’t even bring yourself to say his name. “Yeah, but I do love my car, I always wanted it,” you say.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Oscar leans over, bumping you with his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t. It’s still hard. Sometimes I think about calling him, but he won’t pick up. I have a new number and he has a new girl from what Logan said,” you admit.

“He’s miserable, he will never admit it, but he is. He hasn’t been the same since you left, but you seem to be doing a lot better. You have color back in your skin and you aren’t drinking all the time,” Oscar says, knowing what state you were in when Lando called Logan to check in on you. You were a functioning alcoholic, barely functioning at that point.

“Yeah, this was the right decision. Maybe it’s best if I don’t call Lando. Even if he is miserable, it might make things worse. I can’t get back together with him, but I want him to be okay,” you tell Oscar. What you don’t know is that Lando is renting the beach house beside the one you, Logan, and Oscar are staying in for the two weeks. He is jealous about how happy you seem with his teammate and your best friend.

You figure it out when you take a midnight walk, clad in a sweater with your university’s logo on it.

“Lando, hi,” you breathe, taking him in.

“Hey, you look really good. I like the sweater,” he shifts his weight in the sand. You look healthier, happier, and it kills him.

“I, um, changed my phone number and deleted my social media apps,” you say, answering the question he didn’t want to ask.

“I tried dating again, but I broke it off, I couldn’t do it,”

“Sorry, I should’ve thought about how I would hurt you,” you say, looking at your feet in the sand.

“No, you needed to do it. I don’t blame you, I was basically abandoning you,” Lando says, silently inviting you to join him on the walk. It becomes a habit, you join him every night.

“Congrats on the win,” you hug him on night 11. It was a silent agreement that you would go your separate ways again after the two weeks.

“Where are you living now?” Lando asks on night 14, both of you sitting in the sand between the two houses.

“Destin, Florida. I bought an apartment that used to be a timeshare,” you say, watching the waves.

“That’s pretty close, right?”

“Nine hours, Lan. other side of the state,” you smile, trying not to laugh. Lando’s heart flutters at the way you say his nickname, but squashes it.

“Oh, well I’m glad you were able to come down and support Logan,” he says, yawning a little.

“Alright, I have to wake up early to drive home,” you stand up, brushing the sand off of your legs.

“Drive safe,” Lando hugs you, finally feeling healed.

“Goodbye, Lan,” you whisper.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, capturing the look of you in his mind.

[suiana]

Aaaaaa so desperate for more of yandere student council president 😭

Aughhhh

(yandere! student council president x gn! popular reader) (new au for pressie <3)

"c'monn... you don't have to repeat it."

you groan exasperatedly, rolling your eyes as you push past the annoying student council president. yep, him again. and this time he had come to force you and your group of friends back to class. well, more like your friends. he had forced you to follow him to the student council office. for punishment of course. after all, you're the leader, so you had to be punished!

and no, it's not that type of punishment.

"less talking and more walking. you've already missed five minutes of-"

he speaks up only to get interrupted.

"we heard you dang it!"

"so annoying..."

"yeah this is why you don't get any game."

your friends mock him as they walk back to class, annoyed that they had been told off by him. and you would be too. seriously, he's such a pain in the ass sometimes.

but you and him were... secretly dating.

mhm, that's right.. you were dating the hot yet annoying student council president. yeah, you, the most popular student in the school. but that's not even the worst part! people thought you hated his guts! hell, even you thought you did too!

but that's not what happened. at least until a few months back where he suddenly asked you out and you somehow fell for him instantly.

it's so embarrassing that things turned out the way it did, but oh well. it is what it is, which is why you had to act that you still hated him. you didn't want to be the school clown!

and somehow, he agreed and decided to play along with your little act. he's understanding after all! but seeing you act like a brat makes him want to tease you a little...

"mn... is our little leader trying to go against the president's orders?"

he hums, bending down beside your ear as he smiles into the sentence. you yelp, not expecting him to get so close as your cheeks heat up. shit, what was he doing?! was he trying to blow your cover?! in front of your friends?!

you shoot him a glare, trying to quicken your pace to escape his teasing but aw always, he's always a step ahead. he quickly grabs your wrist, preventing you from running away and it catches the attention of your friends. they eye him suspiciously before their eyes drift over to you. wait, why were your cheeks so red?

you blabber about nervously, trying to put up a tough front. unfortunately, your friends were smart, not dumb and quickly called you out on your lie.

"oi why are you all red?"

"do you... like this annoying idiot?!"

they gasp, absolutely flabbergasted as you shake your head, trying to prove them wrong. you then shoot a glare at the president who merely sticks his tongue out at you and releases his hold. ah, this was fun. maybe he'll do more next time.

"go along now, i'm sure that it's just because i'm that charismatic."

he laughs off before pushing your friends into their respective classrooms and beckoning you to follow him into the student council office.

shit, you swear he's actually going to ruin your reputation of hating him one day with how far he takes his teasing...

but it's not like you'd mind, would you? after all, you two are dating. it's only right that he publicly notifies everyone of his claim on you. ah well, that's a problem for another day.

[helen-with-an-a]

What do amor and alexia do during Christmas time? Do they have any traditions?

Oooo this is a good one

So Amor and Ale’s Christmases growing up were very different

Spanish winter vs English winter are very different and the traditions are very different too

Amor is a little confused over the shit related holiday traditions - mainly the Caga Tió (the pooping log) and Caganer (the Christmas ‘crapper’). Amor defo gets very into it even if she doesn’t fully understand the traditions (especially around Ale’s cousin’s kids and whatnot)

She loves the grapes at New Year’s idea. If she’s at a party she’s 100% down to do it, but if it’s just Amor and Ale she’s not too fussed, if Ale wants to do it, she’ll happily whip the grapes out.

Amor goes all out for Reis d’Orient (the Three Kings) - she always offers to bake the Tortell de Reis and definitely loves getting the pressies for the kids (and Ale)

Alexia is equally as baffled by the British traditions. She’s not really used to a cold Christmas, and that’s definitely something she has to get used to. She thinks Christmas Pudding is vile (so does Amor so that’s not really a loss) and loves a Cracker. She’s not a giant fan of mince pies either.

She doesn’t understand the hype about the Christmas adverts but she smiles and nods along when Amor shows her the John Lewis one (Amor decides that it is officially Christmas when the John Lewis advert comes out)

Ale is not opposed to a roast, but she definitely prefers Spanish/Catalan food. (When they eventually have kids they come up with a Catalan Roast and it’s a random mix of Catalan and British food and it becomes their own family tradition)

They usually split the holiday between England and Spain, usually flying to Amor’s family before Christmas, then coming home and spending Christmas Day in Barcelona doing absolutely nothing (maybe some Christmas sex) before going to Alexia’s family after Christmas. New Year’s is usually reserved for friends/parties/etc. it remains the same when they have kids (Amor’s family before Christmas, the actual day just as a family, and Ale’s side after the holiday)