#more devil judge shall be coming i am still Thinking About It

[haomnyangz]

Once the show is over, actors need to disappear from the stage.

[unityblair]

Master Eddie Munson Fanfiction Part 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Melissa (Made-up female character)

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Drug mention, Sex Mention, Poverty Mention

Story's premise: Mel comes to Eddie’s trailer to make a deal, but then everything spins out of control.

Mel’s pov

My fingers moved to the rhythm, as I drummed them against the headboard of Eddie’s bed. I ditched cheer practice, hoping he’d be home. He wasn’t. Wayne invited me in for tea, and we talked a bit, but when the conversation went awkward, I excused myself to Eddie’s room. 

And there I remained for the next two hours. Hearing the car approaching on the gravel road, I pulled my legs up against the wall, eyes focused on the door. Loud music stopped abruptly, and then I heard Eddie saying something to his uncle, and at that he probably responded with something along “Mel’s here waiting for you, champ” because the door opened with the lightspeed as I heard Eddie say: 

“Sorry I’m late, Sweetheart” 

I furrowed brows at him, trying to seem more pissed off than I actually was. I didn’t want him to think that he has my permission to do that in the future. 

He didn’t seem to care, he just shook his head with a mischievous smile as he crossed the room, jumping on me. 

“Eddie, you’re going to break the bed!” I squeaked, feeling his hands in my hair. He leaned in, getting my chin in his hand, keeping me still when he tried to lick my face. 

“No, no, no…” I laughed, moving my head away. ”You’re disgusting”

“I’m just trying to steal a kiss, babe” he whispered against my neck, his clothed torso obscuring my view. 

“Then take it, but no licking, Dog” 

“Ouch” 

“What ouch?” I looked at him in amusement. 

“Ouch like…Ouch you hurt my feelings, Mel. Don’t you get it, big girl?” 

“Playful as ever” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at his poor joke. 

I felt him pull off just to sit next to me, mimicking my position with legs against the wall. 

“Wanna tell me what happened yesterday?” He asked, toying with a dark strand of my hair. 

“Wanted to ask you the same” 

“What is that about?” 

“Flowers”

“W-what flowers?” he scratched his neck.

“You left me flowers” I smiled to him “Thanks, you’re a keeper” 

“I-I…” he licked his upper lip, deep in thought “Y-yeah, I thought you’d like that”

“Aw, Eds, you’re so modest. Love that about you” I leaned in for a kiss. It took him a second to kiss me back, but he did. I tapped his cheek with my hand, searching for his chocolate eyes, that only looked up at the ceiling of the trailer. 

“If I must confess…” He finally looked at me, tapping my foot with his, which made me giggle.”I feel stressed”

“It rhymes” I burst out laughing, hiding my face in his jean vest. 

“Yeah, it does” he gave my nose a small featherlight kiss “Wanna go to Family Video and rent something spooky?” 

“Thought you’d wanna go to band practice?”

“I can postpone” he said in a raspy voice, making my mouth water. 

“You can?” 

“This one time” he shrugged, taking my hand to place a kiss there. “I can be the man you deserve”

“What devil’s gotten into you, Munson?”

“I am the devil, babe” he rolled off the bed, taking me to the floor with him.

“You’re the joker, not the devil” I judged.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

"I wanna find what you have under this" I mentioned his clothes palming his groan through his jeans. 

"I wanna fuck you so bad too, but I wanna do you right" He whispered under his breath. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I don't want this to be only about sex, darling" I felt him touch my breast, its size ideally fitting in his hand. 

"But I want it now" 

"Too bad, you gotta respect my man Wayne here" he mentioned the door with his head "For his sanity?" he sent me a hopeful look. 

"Alright, let's go find some movie to watch" 

Music blasting, tires scratching, lowkey vibing we arrived at the parking lot of Family Video.

“Maybe go alone…?” I proposed as he hopped off the vehicle. 

“I’m not omniscient, I don’t know what you wanna watch. What if…No question, you’re coming” he concluded aiming his finger at the center of my chest. 

“Fire at will” I smiled, noting that his finger looked kinda like a pointed gun.

“Funny as hell” he responded sarcastically and proceeded to drag me by my hand to the main entrance. 

“What if my aunt finds out?”

“Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of me or something” He pushed me against his back, as he was letting a couple of teens out. 

“No, never” My hand brushed his shoulder as I walked past him to go inside. 

“Such a filthy liar” he made the effort to keep focus as I bent to pick up Clockwork Orange. 

“Stop creeping on me” 

“It’s just…” he tried to defend himself with poor effect “It’s pretty unusual to see you in these”

“What these?”

“You know jeans overall” the look on his face was comical. It made me shake my head, trying to stop myself from laughing. 

“I only dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. It’s not that much…”

“You stole one of my chains” he noticed, taking it in his hand, bringing me closer. 

“I’m not sorry” I smiled, looking up at him. His puppy eyes clouded with smoke. Oh man, he was high as a kite. 

“Who said I was mad?” He poked me on the ribs, running off. 

“What the fuck, Munson?” I yelled, instantly running after him. We ran between the shelves, laughing and scaring people in the process. “I’ll fuck you up”

“Try!” he screamed, just as he ran into one of the staff members falling on his face.

“Loser” I exhaled, stopping at the sight. 

“Salewski, Munson to the register” Harrington’s unamused voice sounded through a megaphone. 

“No movie for us tonight” I figured, hauling Eddie from the floor. “Hope he’s not calling the cops right now” I almost whispered. 

“Sorry man” Started Eddie, approaching the counter. “We were just messing around…”

“No explanation needed. Outta here” he said motioning the door. 

“Alrighty, sorry” I pulled Eddie by the shirt, just as he tried to open his mouth and talk more nonsense. “Don’t you even dare” I shut him up, sending Steve an apologetic smile. 

He looked at us in disgust, resuming his duties at the computer stand. 

Eddie ruffled my hair pulling me to his side again with the subtle pull on my chain. I tried to do the same but he shook my hand off. 

"Don't mess with my hair" 

"Thought you like it" I sighed, getting into the car. 

"In bed obviously, not in public. I have an image to keep up, doll" 

"Did you cancel the practice at Gareth's?" 

"Nah, he probably caught up to it by now. I didn't plan to make it anyway" 

"Maybe you can if you drive fast enough" 

"Don't tell me twice, pretty" 

The feeling of his hand on my thigh making my mind hazy. 

"Player's gotta play" I took a jagged breath, sending him a wink as he started the engine. 

[sunmoonandeddie]

edge of the devil’s backbone

pairing: knight!bucky barnes x princess!reader

word count: 4,918

summary: Your knight has sworn to protect you always, even if that means committing a grave sin.

warnings: Smut, cussing, violence, murder, angst with a happy ending.

a/n:  Lol I really hope you enjoy this.  Bucky is kinda dark but??  Not really???  Also, I suggest listening to Devil’s Backbone by The Civil Wars while you read this.

It’s midnight when he slips into my room, Selene’s soft light guiding him to the bed where I lay, dozing peacefully amongst my mountain of pillows.

A slumber he hates to disrupt, but knows that he must.

To leave me without a word, without a goodbye and a promise to return one day when he can, would be the utmost betrayal to the delicate heart he holds in his hands.

“Princess,” he whispers.  Slinking through the room like a cat, he manages to not make a single noise loud enough to wake me.  It is not until his fingers gently brush against my cheek that my eyes flutter open.

“James?  What’s going on?” I ask, brows furrowing as I slowly push myself up on my elbows.  One hand holds the blanket to my chest, as though it’s anything he hasn’t seen before.

James is… familiar with my nightgowns, to say the least.

“I have to go,” he whispers, his hand shaking as he cups my cheek.  “I have to go before they catch me.”

“What?”  I lean into his touch instinctively, not even thinking about the strange wetness on his fingers that I feel.  “What do you mean?  What did you do?”  When my eyes adjust to the light, I realize what he means.

James’s white undershirt is stained with blood, the hot liquid smeared across his cheek like it is on mine now.

Letting out a squeak of alarm, I rush to look him over, trying to find any injuries to speak of.  “What happened?!  Are you okay?!”

“I killed him.”

I freeze, my hands pressing against his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.  Despite the chill of the oncoming winter, he is so, so warm.  Even with the knowledge he has given me, there is nothing I want to do more than drag him closer and make him cocoon himself around me to keep the cold away.  There is nothing that could ever make me not love him anymore.  Even murder.  I would still run to his embrace and spend the rest of eternity in his arms.

A foolish dream, considering our stations.

Even though James does love me the way I love him, my father would never allow a union between the two of us.  James has been my personal guard since I was young, barely five years old.  A peasant boy granted the honor of training to be a knight because he had found me after I had been kidnapped by bandits and kept for a ransom.  He’d just been fourteen at the time, and braver and smarter than my father’s entire army.

But no, none of that matters.  According to father, princesses must marry princes, who will make good kings.

Anyone with any sense could see that James was worth more than every prince and king put together.

“You killed him?  What him?” I ask, rushing to get out of bed to grab a rag.  I wet it carefully before moving to his side to gently clean off his face.  Even though I want answers, that doesn’t matter as much as getting him presentable again.

But he pushes my hand away, his sea blue eyes glimmering with something that causes a pit to form in my stomach.  “My princess…  My love…  I have to go,” he says, taking my hands in his and squeezing.  “I killed Prince Brock, and they will know it was me come morning.  I have to go…”

“James, don’t be ridiculous,” I scold as I try to start cleaning him off again, tugging to get his ruined shirt off.  “You need to change.  We’ll make it so they’ll have no idea it was you.”

James whispers my name, his bloody hand coming up to cup my cheek as though I am made of glass.  “They will know it was me, and regardless if they didn’t, the king would still pin it on me…  My affection for you is not exactly the world’s best kept secret…  And we both know how the maids like to gossip…”

Tears prick my eyes, and I shake my head desperately.  “No.  No.  You cannot leave, I forbid it!” I say, clutching onto him desperately.  “James, you cannot leave me.  Please, don’t leave me.”  My throat is suddenly dry and tight, my heart pounding within my chest so hard that I am sure I will not make it out without a few broken ribs.

A small price to pay if only my knight will stay by my side.

“You have stayed by my side for sixteen years, do not leave me now,” I order, trying to put on my most commanding voice.  I have been practicing for when I eventually become queen, but it has never ever worked on my most precious knight.

A choked laugh tears from James’s throat.  It’s harsh and broken, a far cry from the usual melody that I chase after.  “My love…  If I do not leave now, they will have me in the gallows by noon,” he says quietly, his forehead pressing against mine.  “Or worse, on the chopping block like a hen ready for the feast.”

I try to push the images from my mind, tears freely flowing down my cheeks.  “No.  No, they won’t know it was you.  Please, don’t leave me…  Or at least take me with you…  Please…”

“I need you to promise me something, princess,” he says as both his hands hold my face, his calloused thumbs rubbing against the tender skin under my eyes to get rid of wayward tears.  “If they catch me…  If I am sentenced to death…  Do not watch.  Do not watch them hang me or draw and quarter me or behead me, whatever it is, I forbid you.  Do you hear me?  I said, do you hear me?!”

“They can’t kill you, I won’t let them,” I sob, still somehow trying to get him to stay.  “I’m the princess, they have to listen to me.”

I have not gone a single day without seeing him in over sixteen years, and I do not plan to now.

But it seems as though there is nothing I can do to stop him.

The silk of my nightgown slides against my skin as I trace his features with my fingers.  “Will you come back to me?” I ask desperately after he denies my request another time.  “Once it is safe, will you please come back to me?  Come home?  I cannot live without you, without knowing you will come back to me one day…”

“I will,” he says reassuringly as he takes one of my hands and presses kisses over each fingertip, each neatly trimmed nail, each line in my palm.  “I will…  I swear to you…  But I could not let him live after today in the garden…”

“I am not angry with you,” I whisper reassuringly as I watch him, trying my best to memorize even the smallest of details.  “You swore to protect me… from anyone and everyone…”

“And I shall always keep my promise.”  He says it with such conviction, with such a fire in his eyes.  He always had, which is partially why I am not surprised that he punished the prince for his crimes against me.

When it comes to my safety, my happiness, James is the judge, jury, and executioner.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he pulls me closer, letting his eyes shut as he allows himself the comfort of knowing that Prince Brock had not gotten far enough to truly hurt me, to permanently mark me.  “I told him that nobody who touches you without your permission gets to keep their hands.  He didn’t believe me until about an hour or so ago,” he grumbles.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t fight the giggle that erupts from my lips.  “My hero…,” I murmur as I look up at him.  As my eyes meet his, I am reminded that he needs to leave.  “I will miss you…  Please…  Try to find some way to write to me…”

“I will,” James says, his nose nudging against mine.  His blue eyes sparkle with tears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.  “Steven knows I am leaving…  He knows what I have done.  He is the one you can trust with your safety now, the only man I trust with your life, and he is outside your door now.”  Chapped lips press against my forehead for a lingering moment.  “I will write to him, and he will get the letters to you.  I swear on my life, princess.”

“Before you go…”  I take a deep breath.  “Before you go, will you grant me a kiss?  Just one…”

It is a request he does not think hard about, grabbing my face and kissing me so gently I think I may wither away from the sheer tenderness.  “I love you,” he says, stealing another kiss from my lips, over and over again.

It seems that now that he has started, he cannot stop.

Or will not.

I will not argue either away.

“I love you…  I love you more than words can say, James,” I say, fingers tangling in his long hair.

“I must take my leave, my darling… my dearest,” he breathes out.  “Before dawn comes and the lark sings…”  He stands, his weight disappearing from the bed, and a pang hits my heart.  “You must get sleep, my sweet nightingale.  Once they realize what has happened and that I have disappeared, they will question you for hours, I am sure, if not all day.  But rest well knowing that when you wake, I will be safe and waiting until I may come back for you.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I hold onto his hand for as long as possible.  “I cannot watch you leave,” I whisper as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You don’t have to, my love,” he says soothingly, pressing a kiss to my hair.  “Rest…  I will be home to you before you can even miss me…”

His hand slips from mine, and I do not hear him leave the room.  “James, please don’t leave me!” I say as I open my eyes, thinking he was still there.

But he had slipped through the door without a sound and left me alone in my cold bed.

My dearest,

It has been a month since I left you, and it has been the hardest month of my entire life.  I did not have the time to write to you until now because I was unable to get my hands on some parchment and a quill, and I had some trouble finding some place where your father and King Alexander could not reach me.

I cannot risk telling you precisely where I have had the luck to find myself, on the off chance that the letter is intercepted.  I cannot see why it would be, as it is carefully hidden with a letter written to Steven, but considering the man that I know your father can be…

Well, I am aware that I shall not need to explain more than that.

What I can tell you is that the sea here is beautiful.  The journey here was hard, filled with storms and a tumultuous sea, but it was worth it.  Though, it would be much better if you were with me to see it, my love, but you already know that.  Seeing the sun rise on the blue water—Water clearer than any I have ever seen before!—made me hopeful for the first time since I left your side.  In fact, the dress that you wore to your father’s last birthday feast is the exact shade of the sea here.  The soft sand reminds me of the gold trim, the white diamonds embedded in the leather…

Do you see what you have done to me, my love?  I miss you so, my heart longing to see you again, to hold you, that I have started to wax poetic about your gowns.

I cannot start on the way the flowers here remind me of the scarlet rouge you use to stain your cheeks and your sweet lips or I shall never stop.  But, I have dreamed of your lips each night, of the way that my name falls like a prayer, of the way you told me you love me…  I dream of kissing you again.  More mornings than not, I wake with tears on my cheeks because of the need I feel to have you close again.  I had waited for so many years to finally tell you how I feel, despite knowing the way we both felt it, and the night that I did, I had to leave.

It feels like a tragedy from one of those books you like to read so much.

One of the sailors on the ship guessed that I had left a woman behind that had broken my heart, and he told me that time would heal the gaping wound.  It was all I could do to explain to him that I had been the one to break both of our hearts, and that time could do nothing because I am counting the days until I may run to you again.

Time may also do nothing because of the depth of my adoration for you.

I wish that I could tell you where I am so that I may receive a letter in return.  I hope you do not regret what happened the night I left, the kiss.

I hope you will still want me, still love me, when I return to you.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been a year since I have seen you last, since I left your side, and I fear I am on the verge of dying if I cannot get a glimpse of your sweet face soon.

Despite writing to you every few weeks, I feel as though there is so much more I can say.  Every tiny little thing that occurs during my days, I wish to tell you.  I wish to tell you so you do not think that I am at the taverns, flirting with every wench that I set my eyes on.  Despite the way they bat their eyes, they can do nothing to even catch a glimpse from me because I am always picturing you.

Have you thought of me since that night?  I imagine you have had to, since I am writing to you and I am sure that Steven is getting these to you.  He may be a dunce in some things, but he is generally a capable man.

When I saw you in your bed that night, slumbering so peacefully, my first thought was that you looked like an angel.  I had been worried that I would be scared to touch you, to even set my eyes upon you, after what I had done.  But all I felt was reassurance that I had done the right thing.

I still cannot apologize enough for leaving you alone in that garden for so long.  Despite knowing that it technically wasn’t my fault, considering that the king had called for me to discuss the journey back home, I am wracked with guilt.  I should have had a servant fetch Steven to take my place while I was gone before I left.  But, I was naïve enough to assume that the palace guards that were present in the garden would protect a princess, even from their prince.

Coming back and seeing you so upset, panicking as he gripped your soft, sweet body hard enough to bruise…  I had realized when I looked at you that you thought I had abandoned you.

I hope you know that no matter where I am, I have not abandoned you.  I could never leave you forever, my dearest.

Your handkerchief no longer smells like you.  I had swiped it from your room as I left, needing something to comfort me on my journey.  I sleep with it pressed to my nose so that I may see you in my dreams.  But now it has lost your scent, and I have been on a search to find the perfume that you wear so that I may buy a bottle and need not worry about it losing your scent again, but alas, I have not been able to come across it.

I fear it would not smell exactly like you anyway, my love, and I would simply be disappointed.

I have pressed a few more flower petals to send to you, but I may not be able to send them again for a while, as winter will be here soon.  Even in this warm kingdom, it brings a chill that withers the flowers and crops.  Until then, I shall send you as many as possible.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been two years to the day, and I can only pray to whatever gods that I will be able to be with you forever soon.

Did you get my present?  I snuck into the palace after deciding that I couldn’t wait much longer to see you.  Even if I was not able to speak to you, just seeing your angelic face as you slept gave me a moment of peace.  My heavy heart was lightened.

You may need to hide the letters I write you better, it only took me seconds to find your hiding spot.  Of course, your father doesn’t know you as well as I do, so he most likely won’t think to check behind your mirror.

The necklace I left on your pillow is inlaid with pure opals and diamonds.  I had never heard of opal, I must admit, until I found my way here.  It is a great source of pride in this kingdom.  I knew the second I saw it that you would look absolutely stunning in it.

Perhaps you will wear it on our wedding day.

Every day I grow fearful that your father will find another suitor for you and force you to marry him before I can make it back to you.  I know how adept you are at avoiding the princes and lords that he shoves in your direction, but what can I say?  To see you with another man, even if you did not truly wish to be with him, would kill me.

I have been on a ship again for the last few weeks, so unfortunately there is not much to write to you about.  But please, know that you are in my thoughts every moment of every day.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

I have just gotten the news of your father’s passing.

I am on my way home to you.

All of my love,

Your James

I sigh as I sit on the throne—my throne.  Mere hours before, I had been crowned as the new queen of my kingdom.

The scepter is heavy in my hand, the cold metal seeming to burn my skin.  How can I do this on my own?

My father raised me to be a queen, a wife, but not to rule.  I was raised to be the queen to a king, to support the man I end up marrying as he rules the kingdom.

But the only man I will ever marry is not here.

Steven is standing beside the throne, his hands clasped behind his back.  He has been good to me the last few years, as I have waited desperately for the day that my love, my true knight, will come home to me.  “You are troubled,” he says quietly as the both of us watch the nobility dance in magical patterns that draw the eye and lift the spirits.  “You should be excited, Your Majesty.  Today is a day of great celebration.”

“He isn’t here,” I say.  It’s all I need to.  His last letter is pressed against my breast, hidden inside my gown.  The necklace he left for me is heavy around my neck, the precious jewels glinting in the light.  “He said he was coming so where is he?”

The prince that had been seeking my hand before my father died is present, his gaze continuously finding me as he slowly works his way closer.  Over the past weeks, I’ve been able to avoid his advances with claims of my grief.

As if I could ever truly grieve a man as cruel as my father.

“It is possible his ship may have been caught in a storm,” Steven comments, trying to soothe my anger.  He has seen how unstable my emotions can be when James is not close by.  “He will be here.  You know he will, my queen.”

I am growing more and more annoyed as I realize that I will soon be expected to join the dancing.  But dancing is the last thing I want to do without my love there.

Beside me, Steven tenses, and I watch as his blue eyes flit around the room.  “Interesting…,” he says under his breath, almost too low for me to hear.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.

“It appears that your latest suitor has disappeared.”

What?  Brows furrowing, I look around the room, pointedly searching for Prince Quentin for once.  Sure, he is a handsome man, but his blue eyes are forgettable when I compare them to James’s.  “Well, perhaps he found some maid to consort with in the gardens,” I say with an eye roll, quickly giving up on the search.  “It is not as though he is getting any sort of connection from me.  Let him have his fun.”

Steven snorts, his head dipping for a moment.  “I think it is time for you to join the dancing,” he says simply, in a tone that makes me wonder what he has up his sleeve.

He knows something that he is not telling me.

“Fine,” I say with a glare in his direction, getting to my feet.  I hand my new scepter off to the servant who has immediately rushed to my side, the song currently floating in the air coming to an end.  A new one begins as I step into the fray, easily joining the dance.

I am so swept away in the swirling skirts and joyous laughter of the crowd that I do not notice the man that had joined the dancers on the other side.

Passing from partner to partner, I keep a fake smile plastered on my face and absentmindedly nod with everything that is said to me.

“It has been a long time, my love.”

My eyes snap up to focus on the man whose arms I have just been passed into, and my heart stops inside of my chest.  “James?” I breathe out.  My eyes well up with tears just at the sight of his loving face, his sea blue eyes sparkling in the bright light of the ballroom.  “James, is it really you?”

His smile is almost blinding, and I realize that his own eyes are glassy as well.  “It is me, my princess.  Or should I say, my queen?”  Despite the rest of the people around us switching partners, he refuses to let me go, his hand tight on my hip and the other holding my hand firm.  “I saw your coronation this morning.  You looked radiant.  You still do, my dearest…”

I barely notice the world around me as I watch his tongue flick out between his teeth to wet his chapped lips.  “You were there?”

“Of course I was,” he chuckles, his large hand squeezing my hip.  “Do you really believe that I could ever even risk missing your coronation, sweetheart?”  Feeling the crowd’s stares, he leans in a little.  “Meet me in the garden in a few moments.  By the gazebo.”

Twirling in time with the music, my heart sinks as I am passed to the next partner and the next.  My hands are trembling with the fear that he could disappear again.  Logically, I know that he won’t.  But after spending so many years away from him…

“Go,” Steven says after I finally break away at the end of the dance.  “He is waiting for you.”

I don’t need to be told twice.  As I make my way to the corridor to slip out to the gardens, I have to reassure several servants that I am alright, but just escaping for a fresh breath of air.

The gazebo he told me to meet him at is further back in the garden, out of view from any of the palace windows.  His dark figure stands at one of the railings, looking out at the ocean.  The necklace around my neck burns as I take a moment to look at him, really look at him.  His hair is longer than it was when he left, and stubble lines his face.

Did he shave just for me?

I like the thought of him preparing to see me, nervously checking his appearance in the mirror.  Perhaps he bought a new jacket and waistcoat in his excitement.

“James?”

He turns to look at me immediately, a smile brightening his face, and I feel as though I am a teenager again, fresh with the feelings of love and adoration.  “My dearest…”  He does not waste any time as he pulls me close, his lips slotting against mine and his hands roaming over my body.  “I have missed you…  I have dreamt of you each night.”

And I know that anyone could come out and see us at any moment.  And I know that the gossip would run rampant and the possible alliance with Prince Quentin’s kingdom could crumble.

But I do not care.

I have been craving his touch for years, praying to the gods he would come home and hold me just as he is doing now.

“I need you.  I need you, James,” I say as my hands tug at his jacket and push it off his shoulders, going for his waistcoat next.

Thankfully, he does not argue.  “You’ve dreamt of this as much as me,” he says in relief as he unties my corset enough to tug it down to reveal my chest to him.  James chuckles as he catches his letter as it falls.  “You kept this so close to your heart, my love.”  Seeing the letter only makes him more ravenous, his lips attaching to my neck as he works his breeches down.

Pain runs through me as he sits and pulls me on top of him, finally joining our bodies together, but I don’t take the time to care.  The glory of finally being with him is far greater than any pain I could ever feel.

We are so tangled that you cannot tell where one of us ends and the other begins as he moves me, taking his pleasure and granting me my own.

“You’re mine,” he growls, nipping at my neck.  “That sorry excuse for a prince thought he could touch you.  Thought he would ever be worthy enough for you.”

It suddenly occurs to me that his arrival and Prince Quentin’s disappearance were correlated, and I see a drop of blood on his white undershirt.

It tears a moan from my throat.

The knowledge that a man as powerful, as strong, as my knight would protect me in such a dangerous manner, so desperately, sends a jolt down my spine.  The fact that he is willing to go to the ends of the earth, to commit such a sin…

It is delicious.

The dagger he must have used glints in the low light of the moon as it rests on the stone floor, having fallen from his breeches when they’d been torn down.  The sharp edge is crusted with a dark red, almost brown substance.

“I am all yours.  I have always been yours, my knight,” I say as my fingers tangle in his hair and pull, our lips locking.  “I love you.  I love you so.  I cannot breathe without you.”

“I am never leaving you again.  Never.”  His teeth grab onto my lower lip as he picks up the pace, grinning as he glances down to watch my body.  “Fuck…  It’s even better than I dreamed of.  I love you so much, my queen.”

My release is fast and hard, knocking the breath out of my lungs as I cling to him, my nails scratching at his back and creating a rip in his shirt.  “JAMES!”

James is quick to follow, his hips jerking as he reaches his peak and spills inside of me.  “Perhaps you will become heavy with my child,” he whispers as he steals another kiss, tenderly fixing my dress before helping me stand and dressing himself.  “Perhaps we will have a little prince or princess on the way.”

“Well…”  A smile spreads over my face as I cup his cheeks, running my fingers over the dark stubble.  He would look so delectable with a beard.  “In case you have not been informed, I have been made queen…  And I decree that you are to be my king.”

A laugh bubbles in his chest as he pulls me close once more, dipping me low and kissing me something fierce.  “Your wish is my command, my dearest.”

[upyrica]

🍷 are you a soft or a hard polytheist? Do you believe that all divinity are faces of the same divine force, or perhaps that God/the Creator and the Devil are simply two faces of one being?

Personally, I do not follow either approach, nor do I think either one is strictly historic or, necessarily, factually accurate.

In the core of my understanding, - or, rather, the conclusion I am willing to settle on presently, - is that all mythos is the result of the interaction between the divine and the human perception. In that sense, whether gods are wholly separate, one, or at all existent is fundamentally unknowable; we can only have faith in what makes sense to us.

The ancients certainly had the ability to differentiate between the gods of different tribes and lands; still, often enough one divinity was explained through another one, which would at least speak to the people's understanding of both, if not to the belief that they are the same. Judging by the fact that different sets of gods were primarily honoured in different areas even under the same ethnic umbrella, it may also be concluded that no one pantheon is, strictly speaking, necessary to have a religious practice that satisfies people's spiritual and ritualistic needs.

It is my personal opinion, too, that the spirit world more or less responds in the way it is approached, and does not shy away from wearing the face that shall get the job done and make them recognisable as a bearer of a particular purpose and qualities, rather than fussing about being seen as that one particular spirit - unless, of course, it is something that is important to them, ha.

None of that, however, tells much about what I personally believe, now, does it?

My view is that gods are what they are, only in part overlapping with what humans can perceive, know, or tell about them. Different religions, in the sense of a set of defined views and rituals, provide perspectives and approaches, not necessarily being, or needing to be all-encompassing. They shift, merge, divide, layer over each other and, ultimately defy strict definition. Their purpose is in the service of a living relationship, not in forming a correspondence table. If you will, religion is the dress worn by the divine so that we can have a face to talk to. I believe that neither the gods are all the same, nor that they are all separate and strictly divided between patheons.

Moreover, it is my conviction that it is respectful to approach a spirit in their preferred way, whatever you are able to agree upon. Certain saints, for example, may well in truth function as keys for reaching what one would consider pagan divinity - still, they come to you as a saint. Until they shed the cross, if they do at all, this is the way they wish or find it convenient to be seen.

I do not believe in the Devil, however - although there are, without a doubt, beings that may be called thus.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[sunshine--writes]

Blood Bound

header image courtesy of one of the biggest Lady Dimitrescus simps i’ve ever met.

This is the first and last time i will ever write anything so be prepared. Also i’m not the best writer so some parts might be very rushed and sloppy sorry. Idk how to post on tumblr either and also i’m on mobile so sorry for weird formatting issues :)

A little background I wrote this as a presentation thing with my friends so it’s not gonna be good. Also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so sorry i guess?

Warnings: NSFW of course, uh very kinky probably, swears in this warning, f! Reader, reader is a vampire pls let me have this, IT MAKES SENSE FOR THE STORY PLEASE LET ME HAVE THIS, vampires need sleep i guess idk just fuck let me live, fluff at the end bc im a whore for that kinda shit, probably ooc for Lady Dimitrescu but like idk her character other than dom mommy milkers so, blindfolds, binding arms? what is it called??

All of your senses returned to you very slowly. You didn’t know where you were, or why someone had taken you in the middle of the night, but for some reason you felt safe. You could feel the cold damp floor of the cell you could only presume you were in and you could smell rotting flesh and the wet metal that surrounded you. You could hear the dripping noises of falling water coming from somewhere in front of you, and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching. The only sense you never regained was your sight. You could feel the soft fabric that covered your eyes and made a reasonable guess that your host for the evening had blindfolded you.

“Have you awoken my darling?” Ah, speak of the devil. The person that belonged to that sultry voice was one Lady Dimitrescu -- the countess that you have met with several times before and every encounter has somehow ended the same way. You remember the first time you met the 9 foot tall woman. It was 1920, and as the child of a wealthy eastern european count, you were required to attend the galas that were thrown. During one such occasion you happened to run into Lady Dimitrescu, and had unfortunately uncovered her secret. At the first sign of danger a normal person would have run, but who were you to judge? After all, aren't you two essentially the same?

That was the first night, and the begging of a long mutual relationship between the two of you. A whirlwind of passion, anger, misery, and lust was the only way you could describe these past decades you have spent with her. Everytime you left her embrace, you couldn’t help but long to be in it again no matter how angry you were. This on again off again relationship had persisted through generations, and you would be damned if you would give up now. She had introduced you to your friends who had shared the same beliefs, and made you feel welcomed. She had been there during the downfall of your family's power, and she was there for every milestone. You had to admit, your life was tied to this woman if you had liked it or not. Every night you spent apart was agony, and every moment you spent together was bliss. You have eternity, so what's the use in spending anymore time apart?

This night felt different. It wasn't normal for her to seek out your company, so why has she all of a sudden? And since when has she been this gentle? If it was like any other night she would have already had her way with you and thrown you to the side. Tonight was definitely different.

“My dear turn towards me.” She demanded, and you obeyed, crawling your way to the direction you think she might be in. You found her in the corner of what you think is a cell. You could tell she was sitting in a chair so you sat on your knees in front of her.

“Ah, isn’t this better darling? Everything is as it should be.” You could hear the sound of her claws extending -- and then you felt as she dragged the nail across your cheek, across your lips, and down to your chin.

“My love, head up. This way I can see your beautiful face.” She spoke as she lifted your head with her sharp claw. “Ah this beautiful face, the one that has tormented my dreams for far too long. Isn’t this much better?” You nod, what does she mean tormented her dreams? Over these past years you understood that this relationship was not one out of love, so you never gave yourself hope that she might feel the same as you. Even as her words sounded like a declaration of longing, you refused to dream. An intimate relationship with her, even one without love, was enough for you. As long as you could remain at her side for the rest of eternity you would be happy.

She sighed, “No matter, tonight is somewhat of a celebration, and as I am in a good mood I have sought you out. So where shall we start?” You hear the claw retreat back into her hand and her start to stand up, towering over you. “Lets get you out of these clothes hm?” She grabs you by the neck forcing your body down to the ground, cool gloved hands start roaming all over your body, loosening and untying the thin clothes you wore to sleep that night. “Ah beloved, how I had missed this.” Her mouth descended onto your neck where you could feel the warmth of her saliva as she sucked on that tender spot. You whimpered, moving closer into the bigger woman, although this isn't the first time she has marked you like this, it still sends tingles down your spine. Your hands started to roam as Lady Dimitrescu moved her way from your neck to your chin, and finally to your mouth: enveloping you in a deep kiss. Your back arched to be closer to the woman on top, deepening the kiss. You could taste the reminisce of blood and the sweet wine she had been brewing for years. Tonight really was an important celebration. You couldn’t control yourself as both of your bodys moved in tandem, your hands moving down her back.

She pulled away, leaving you gasping for air, “Now now my dear, you know the rules. No touching without permission. Now let's get these hands out of the way hm?” You could feel as the warmth from her body moved away, leaving you semi-naked on the cold floor. You couldn’t tell where she had gone, nor how long she was gone for -- every minute without her felt like agony anyway.

Her footsteps finally came back, “On your knees,” she demanded, and you moved without hesitation. “Both arms behind you.” Again you moved without thinking, obeying every word. You could feel as some soft fabric was slowly wrapped around both of your wrists and then tied, you could guess that it was the same silk as the one around your eyes.

“There, isn't that better darling? Now lay back down, I will loosen you up.” A claw extended and you felt as the rest of your already loose clothes were torn off, including your slick underwear. “Hm?” she laughed, “Already ready for me?”

“Yes mistress.” you nodded, spreading your legs slightly.

“Darling you know I love it when you call me that.” Gloved hands traced their way from your neck, to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally rested on your thighs. “Hm? What should I do darling? Shall we continue?”

“Yes mistress.” You begged, wiggling your body hoping for her hand to end up in that place you wanted it. You begged for her to give you release, begged for the thing you missed the most over these years.

“Hm? Shall I grant you your requests? Maybe you should beg some more first.” Her hands suddenly moved, finding their way back up to your breasts, hands playing with your nipples. You squirmed, wishing that the woman would give you what you wanted.

“Please mistress,” you begged, pushing yourself onto her thigh. Your cries fell on def ears as she continued to play with you. You started grinding on her thigh, pleading with your mistress to take you. “Please Lady Dimitrescu, please help me.”

You felt her hot hands finally leave your chest, “Fine, I shall grant this one request to you my beloved.” Suddenly you felt a gloved finger push its way inside you, forcing itself deeper in, her other hand went back to playing with your breasts. You gasped, moaning as she started moving around slowly inside. You tried to move yourself down onto her hand, allowing sweet relief. Her unoccupied hand made its way up to your neck and she started choking you.

Her tempo picked up as another finger made its way inside. The sounds coming out of you were ungodly, she had you crying out in pleasure. “Do you like that my dear?” she called out from on top of you. You could only nod your head and cry out something akin to the word yes. She was moving even faster and you could feel the pressure inside of you about to explode, you begged your mistress to please release you, but she wouldn’t budge moving faster than she had ever moved before. You were moaning and screaming in pleasure, you silently thanked whoever was up there that you were in a castle otherwise you would probably have a noise complaint by now. Her movements had you writhing around, grasping for anything with your bound hands. You brought your legs and wrapped them around her, opening yourself up for her. You were desperately grinding against her hand, your walls tightening before you could come.

“Eager now aren't we, well my love shall I let you come?” Although you were blindfolded you could see her smirking face. You called out between moans, crying for her to let you. You were begging and pleading, you must have looked so pitiful but in that moment you wished for nothing more than to come undone by this woman's hands.

“Lets see how loud you can be.” You felt your walls close down on the fingers inside of you as you screamed out in pleasure, the pressure finally being released. You could feel your juices coming out as orgasms wracked through your body. The pleasure was too much for you to handle and before you knew it you passed out.

***

You awoke in a very comfortable bed, the feel of the satin sheets under you cooled your body and sent shivers all over. You had realized that both the blindfold and your arm restraints were gone, and your body had been cleaned up from last night's activities. You were wearing a thin nightgown that only accentuated how cold it was in this room. As you looked around you finally saw the face of the sleeping woman next to you. Strange, you had never awoken next to her, no matter how vigorous the previous night's activities were she always left before you woke up. You giggled quietly to yourself, last night must have been a special night indeed. You saw sunlight streaming in from the large windows on the northern wall of this bedroom casting itself onto her. She had never looked more beautiful in your long life. You reached out your hand and started softly stroking the woman's face and hair, careful not to wake her. You traced your way from her forehead down to her lips, pausing there slightly. Last night was different, it wasn't bad, it was in fact very good. It was just something you never thought would happen for the both of you. As you look at the face of sleeping Lady Dimitrescu in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would be like if you two had a different kind of relationship. Your thoughts were cut short when you felt two arms snake their way around you and suddenly you were pulled into the woman's arms.

“What are you doing awake so early my little dove? You should rest some more, last night must have been very taxing on your body.” Lady Dimitrescu spoke. You were shocked to say the least. Over the decades you have known the Countess, you have never been in her arms like this. This is what you had dreamt of for so long, wanting to feel true, romantic love from this woman, and now that you are here you felt as if you could cry.

And cry you did. Before you could stop yourself you felt the tears falling down your face and onto the clothes of the woman holding you.

“My beloved what is wrong?” Lady Dimitrescu frantically spoke as she tried to wipe the tears out of your eyes, “What is the matter? Please tell me.”

“It’s truly nothing,” you finally croaked out after minutes of sobbing. You must have looked ridiculous like this. How could you really think that she would love you like you love her. You are nothing compared to her.

“If you are crying then of course something is wrong. Please tell me darling, I hate to see you so sad.”

You hesitated. Was it really alright to tell her the thoughts that have plagued you for generations? You didn’t want things to change between the two of you. Even if you were just treated as a play thing, as long as you could stay with her you would do anything. “I love you. I have loved you for years, and you will never reciprocate how I feel. I am nothing to you other than a toy you can throw away at a moment's notice. But still I wish to stay by your side, even If I am nothing other than that. Don’t let my feelings change our relationship. I only want to stay with you.” The tears came back but you wouldn’t let them fall. You were stronger than that.

You felt her hold on you tighten as she brought you closer to her, lips brushing over your forehead and over your eyes. Her mouth moved around your face, kissing away your tears.

“Beloved who ever said I never felt the same way?”

to those liking this at 2 am: 📸📸📸

[the-great-imagines-of-1812]

NETHERFIELD PARK, LET AT LAST! (I)

“James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Stark!Reader - PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AU

Summary: The Stark family, consisting of Mrs. Pepper Stark, Mr. Anthony Stark, and their five daughters, Natalie, Y/N, Jane, Carol, and Wanda. On one sunny summer day, the news reached the Stark family home; Longbourn, that Netherfield Park, the most spacious and grand estate in all of England, was let at last!

Only, it was by a certain Mr. Steve Rogers, and his rather...grim and stern-looking (for lack of better words) companion and best friend, a James Buchanan  Barnes,  and Mr. Rogers’ rather notorious sister, Sarah.

As tensions rise between between Mr. Barnes and Y/N Stark, will they be able to overcome their own pride and get along?

a/n: pepper is out of character?? i wrote her to fit the 2005 version of Mrs. Bennet.

tags: @cherryblossomskye​

“Haven’t you heard, Mr. Stark? Netherfield Park is let at last! Do you not wish to know who has taken it?”

“As you wish to tell me, my dear; I fear I have no choice in the matter.”

You see, dear reader, the Lady of Longbourn House, Pepper Stark, had made it her business all her adult life to know absolutely everything about anyone and everyone. Including visitors. 

The sound of the horrible playing of the pianoforte fades out as Y/N walks in to the house, only for Natalia nowhere to be found, with Carol and Wanda listening to their parents’ conversation to their hearts content. 

“Carol, Wanda! What’ve I told you both about listening at the door! It’s unnecessary and rude!” Y/N scolded her sisters, in both hushed tone and manner. 

“Hush, Y/N! Nevermind that! It’s Mr. Rogers coming down from the North with  £5,000 a year!” Carol scolded back. 

“ £5,000!” Y/N gaped, with her jaw practically hitting the floor. 

“And he’s single!” Carol and Wanda squealed in unison.

“Who’s single?” asked Natalia, finishing her trip down the stairs and taking a place with her sisters in front of the door. 

Now now, dear reader. It might do well by my part to let you know that Mr. and Mrs. Stark have five daughters. Their oldest, Natalia is 21, followed by Y/N, 20, then Jane, 18, followed by Carol, 17, while their youngest, Wanda, is 15. Mrs. Bennet loved all her daughters to the death, but with an aging father such as theirs, they would not inherit anything; shall he die an untimely death. Of course, any death is untimely on anyone’s part, but that’s not the present matter. 

“Mr. Rogers, apparently.  £5,000 a year and has rented out the Netherfield.” Y/N whispered to her sister. 

“I don’t believe it, Y/N.  £5,000? Lord help us all.” Natalia answers. 

“And how could that possibly affect our girls?” Mr. Stark teased his wife, who very clearly seemed to be in distress. 

“Oh, Mr. Stark! How could you be so tiresome? You know he must marry one of them!” Mrs. Stark looked as if she was about to faint from nerves.

Carol and Wanda proceed to let out a rather loud giggle at their mother’s plea, as the observant Mrs.’ eye. And with this, Mr. Stark proceeds to open the door, only to, no surprise, find his daughters listening in on the conversation with his wife. 

“Good heavens! The lot of you. Excuse me, girls!” Mr. Stark passed his girls, moving into the sitting room. Despite Mr. Stark clearly wanting to end this conversation, his lady chases behind. 

“But we shall not visit if you do not, so you must call for him!” Pepper pleaded. 

Turning to his family in the doorway of the sitting room, he finally let out the news he had been holding in for so long. “There’s no need darlings. I already have.”

“Oh- oh! How could you tease me so, Mr. Stark? You know about my nerves.”

“Of course I know about your nerves, my dear. They have been my constant companions these past 22 years.” Mr. Stark settled in the armchair, prepared for questions for all the questions he was sure his daughters had. 

“Oh dear! Is he handsome?” Wanda asked. 

“It doesn’t matter is he’s handsome, Wanda. He’s rich!” Carol exclaimed, grabbing he sister’s hands. Natalia joins Y/N on the sofa as she says “For  £5,000 a year, I it wouldn’t matter if he had three warts and a gray tooth!” Y/N snorts out in a laugh, and Natalia hushes her.

“Hush now, Y/N. I’m sure he’s lovely.” 

“Who’s got three warts and a gray tooth?” Jane now asked shyly from the doorway her father had stood in mere moments before. But no one paid her any mind. 

You see, reader. All the Stark sisters with the exception of our dear Jane, are rather outgoing. While Jane, instead of pretty dresses and social balls, opted for a plainer look compared to the rest of her sisters, thereon and therefore staying in the shadows more often than seen by society. Poor girl. 

“Well, well. Shall any of you fall in love with the man, I will give my hearty and happy consent to marry any of his choice.” The man says. He hesitates for a slight moment. “The ball at Meryton tomorrow shall be rather splendid indeed.” 

“Will he be there tomorrow, papa?” Wanda asks. 

A pregnant pause fills the room. “I do believe so.” He finally says, stoking his chin.

Inaudible squeals of joy and excitement fill the room. Carol and Wanda immediately started bothering and pestering Natalia about their bonnets, their shoes, their mending, whatever came to their minds the second dear old father said the words ‘Mr. Rogers’ , ‘Ball’ and ‘Tomorrow’. 

Y/N, however, remained on the couch, looking at her sisters with a grin on her own face. Excited as she may be for social gatherings and balls, Y/N had never bothered to look for a husband. Her sisters, although loving her very much, have always teased her about becoming a spinster. In a lighthearted manner, of course. Always.

 It was a different story for her mother; Pepper actively hunted for husbands for her girls, but has proven unsuccessful, because since her oldest have come of age, only Natalia had come close. 

And so, Mrs. Stark hoped to try her luck.

Dear Reader, this would soon prove to be more successful than you think at this very moment in time.

~~~~~~

The array of colorful dresses and all the gentlemen in dashing suits and the loud sounds of music, stomping, and clapping and the taste of the seasons’ best wine is nothing new to the Stark sisters, but they always tried to enjoy it to the maximum, nevertheless.

At these balls often hosted my one family or the next, dancing was often enjoyed. But one factor that ruled quite a few people out of the activity was the fact that the women, more often than not,  the women out numbered the men. This meant that every young lady, including Y/N, had to wait their turn.

But Y/N felt no less bitter than any other girl in the room, as she laughed with a dear friend Darcy, who, despite being a few years older than her, had remained one of her closest friends since youth, and Natalia on her right. 

“You know, Natalia; if every man in this ballroom does not end up utterly and foolishly, head-over-heels in love with you, I am to be no judge of your beauty.” Y/N told her sister rather loudly, trying to get heard over the music that filled the Meryton Townhall. 

“All men, Y/N?” she inquires.

“Please, Natalia. They’re all humorless.”

“You better shut your mouth. One of these days someone is catch your eye and you’ll have to be more careful.” 

“I hate to betray you like this dear friend, but I’m afraid your sister’s right on this one.” Darcy said from beside her. 

Ms. Darcy Lewis, despite being a 4 years older than Y/N, had been close to her and her family since they could crawl. By Mrs. Stark’s standards, Darcy must, and I quote dear reader, “find a husband and give birth already”. Despite still having some time before society called her an old maid. 

“Oh dear friend, how you humor me.” Falling on Darcy’s shoulder, she feigns hurt, putting a hand over her heart. “Oh dear, oh dear! How you betray me!”

“Hush now, look who’s arrived!” Natalia and Darcy both whispered, shaking her arms. 

The rather loud dancing and joyful music had come to a screeching halt. The partygoers have parted a path for the three people standing at the door, as if they were Moses parting the red sea. 

Their eyes scan the room, like a mother inspecting a child’s bedroom. Right away, Y/N knew who they must be. Leaning over to Darcy, she whispered in her friend’s ear “Which one of these painted peacocks is our Mr. Rogers?” 

“The blond one to your left. To the right, his sister, Sarah.” she answers, clutching Y/N’s hands.

“And the man with the quizzical brow?” 

“That would be his friend, Mr. Barnes. He apparently owns Pemberley Estate and half of the Derbyshire.”

“Oh how miserable he looks, Darcy! Look at him!”

“Miserable-looking he may be, Y/N, but poor, he is not. His prospects earn him a steady income upwards of  £10,000 a year.”

“My, my. How very interesting.” 

The trio makes their way on to the back of the room. Mr. Barnes was not one for dancing and Ms. Rogers looked as if she had a permanent look of distaste etched on her fair face. The partygoers continue their fun. 

Mr. Rogers, however, was a different tale altogether, dear reader. He was like sunshine in a bottle, or a child opening his or her eyes for the first time. A child-like wonder, some may even say. 

His younger sister, Sarah, has, to put it quite bluntly, the reputation the devil himself, more or less. Known for sabotaging her brother’s relationships and being rather promiscuous. Oh my. 

His friend, Mr. Barnes, was quite the interesting character. He seemed to be pleased to be in such an environment, but at the same time looks like he rather be anywhere else. 

Mrs. Stark does not let the three of them rest, and immediately reaches for those of her daughters who are not dancing on the floor with a partner. In her mind, it was imperative that her girls marry rich, whether it be for her sole benefit or the family’s benefit, we might never know. 

With know Natalia, Y/N and Jane, with Darcy too, of course, at her side, they were introduced to the three by Mr. Lewis himself. 

“Mr. Rogers; My eldest daughter Darcy Lewis, Mrs. Stark, Ms. Natalia Stark, Ms. Y/N Stark and Ms. Jane Stark. And of course, Mr. Stark.”

“A pleasure to meet all of you! I have two other daughters who I might introduce you two, if they ever keep their feet off the dance floor!”

“Let them dance! I’ll pay the matter no mind. Although it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Mr. Lewis speaks up again. “And may I introduce Mr. Barnes of Pemberley and Derbyshire.”

The girls bow once again. The air was surprisingly tense, even if the words they had exchanged were merely just and introduction. But Mr. Barnes paid the tension no mind. 

Unsuprisingly, Natalia had soon managed to drag Mr. Rogers away for some light conversation, being joined by Y/N. 

“And are you enjoying here in Hartfordshire, Mr. Rogers?” Natalia asks shyly, wringing her hands. 

“Very much, Ms. Bennet.” he answers her with a smile.

Oh, dear reader. He was smitten! A match made in heaven.

In a very clear attempt to rescue her sister from such a silence, Y/N proceeded to ask Mr. Rogers “The Library! At Netherfield! I hear it is one of the very best in the country.”

“Oh, yes!” he chuckles. “Although I’m not a big reader, you see. I very much prefer being outdoors.”

A smile came upon Natalia’s face. “That’s what I always tell her! How can one sit inside, completely still, when there is so much to do outside!”

Mr. Rogers’ eyes seem to be overcome with a certain infatuation not even the biggest matchmaker could define. “Ms. Bennet, would you do me the honor of joining me for the next dance?” he asks happily with a smile, holding his hand out. 

One can feel Mrs. Stark’s eyes on her eldest daughter from across the room. Natalia, however, doesn’t give the subject matter a second thought and takes his hand and he escorts her out to the floor. 

“And how are you this evening?” Y/N hears from behind her. Whipping her head around, only to find - Mr. Barnes. 

“I’m doing just fine, thank you sir.” She gives him a curtsy. “I trust you had a tolerable trip?”

“Oh yes, Ms. Bennet, I do hope you trust me when I say we did. Although Sarah- I shall not talk much about her. I’m sure you know her nature.”

“And do you not care to dance, Mr. Barnes?”

“Please, call me James. And no, I only dance when obligated to.”

“Looks like I’ll have to do that myself.” Y/N says, perfectly in time with the previous dance that just ended. She holds out her hand to him, which he seems to accept after a second’s hesitation. 

But to him, dear reader, it fell like his entire world was hit by a ray of pure sunshine and all his problems were somewhat solved. Or so I’m told. 

But Mr. Barnes feels a sharp glare looking at him from across the room. 

Sarah. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, Ms. Bennet, goodbye.” he says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. 

And so, our heroine is left alone on the floor, embarrassed until Darcy comes to her rescue. “Oh, I watched all of it unfold, dear friend! How rude of him!” her friend cries. “Come along!”

Darcy takes her hand and walks behind the seating area, where the pair would have more privacy to talk. “I’m sure you’d like to spare me the details, I will not want to hear of such an act on his part, and as I know you wouldn’t speak a word of it either.” 

Y/N holds her friend’s hands in her own. “Oh, how you understand me! If only we could live together as old maids instead!”

This sends Darcy into and uncontrollable fit of laughter, which stops as soon as she hears the conversation of Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes walking bye. She ushers Y/N to listen.

“Natalia is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, James. Although, if she were not to have me, I’m sure I would be happy with her sister Y/N, too.”

Mr. Barnes shoots his friend a cold glare, clenching his jaw. “Then you must’ve spent the evening with the only handsome girl in the room, because I only found Y/N to be nothing but agreeable.”

Y/N swore she could hear a part of her heart chip away.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Y/N! If the miserable man liked you, you’d have to talk to him! Imagine! Darcy says, noticing the state of her friend. 

“You’re right! I wouldn’t have him for all of Derbyshire, let alone the miserable half!” Now this sends both friends into a bigger fit of laughter than before.

“There you are! Where have you been?” Mrs. Stark shrieks from where she was situated now, besides them. 

“Mother, I was just-”

“I’ll hear none of it! Do come along now, Y/N! Natalia is back from her dances with Mr. Rogers! Oh. My apologies, Ms. Lewis, I’ll have to steal my daughter away.”

“It won’t matter, Mrs. Stark. I had a gentleman already lined up for this song! Heavens, I better find him.” Darcy runs off. 

Mrs. Stark drags Y/N by the wrist, all the way to were Natalia, Mr. Rogers and oh. Him. And suddenly, Y/N doesn’t know what he is to her. 

And for a while, they engage in conversation about poetry, the country, music, and more. 

But what Y/N doesn’t realize, dear reader, is that our dear Mr. Barnes - ehem- James. Couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Nonetheless, that is a story for another time. 

“You do know, Mr. Rogers, my Natalia was and is still considered the beauty of the county.” Mrs. Stark says, hoping to prompt the man to do something, anything.

“Mother!” both Natalia and Y/N scold at the same time. They couldn’t believe their eyes.

“Hush! A couple of years ago, a nice young man did write her some pretty verses, and I was sure he would make her an offer.” 

“Well, um, frankly, Mrs. Stark, I-” no one would’ve ever thought that they would see Mr. Rogers like this. 

Y/N on the other hand, chuckles. “Who would have ever thought poetry would the food of driving away love?”

Mr. Barnes gives her a stern glare. “I thought poetry was the food of love.” 

“Possibly. I personally have thought of it not as a promise, but a solicitation of sorts.” He gives her another glare.

“Ms. Stark I pray that when one is completely, utterly, and foolishly in love, they do not solicit, they give.”

“My, my. Who would've thought? While I do respect your opinion, not everyone is the same. Just like you seem to not even solicit a slight politeness to those you’ve just met!”

“Ms. Stark!”

“Goodbye, Mr. Barnes, you have been lovely company.”

~~~~~~

LATER THAT NIGHT

After lighting the last candle in the room, Y/N blew out the match in her fingers and joined her sister in their shared bed for the night. Natalia smiles at her.

“Mr. Rogers is exactly what every man ought to be.” She whispers, faintly. If Y/N hadn’t been there, she might have missed it.

“As well as handsome, tall, and conveniently rich?” Y/N asks, in a teasing tone. 

“Oh hush! You know I don’t look for that!”

“But it doesn’t bother one now does it?”

Natalia blurts into a fit of giggles. “I guess not.”

~~~~~~

THE NEXT MORNING

This morning in the Stark household is like any other. Chickens clucking, the cow is mooing, as well as the breakfast sausages sizzling can be heard from, the kitchen, where the staff is preparing the first meal of the day for the family. 

And most definitely NOT out of the normal is the girls talking about the previous night’s ball, which could only be described in an array of words, like wonderful and exciting from Wanda and Carol, boring yet thrilling from Jane, and a bumble of words from Jane and Carol. 

“Ms. Bennet! Ms. Bennet!” Jarvis, one of the servants, runs to the table quickly, with a paper in hand. “Letter for you, Ms. Bennet. From Netherfield, the letter is!”

Silence falls upon the dining room as the words fly out of his mouth. 

“Well open it, Natalia! Don’t keep us waiting!” Mrs. Stark pleads with the daughter.

“Yea open it, Natalia!” Wanda says in a teasing tone.

“Oh hush, you! I’m going, I’m going!”  Natalia, says, waiting no more time before opening the letter. She skims over it, before looking back up.

“Well tell us, dear. What does he say?” Mr. Starks says form his end of the table.

“Her, momma, her. Sarah Rogers... has invited me to dine with her.

Oh dear.

[boognish-worshipper]

Moonlight

the second part/continuation of Sunrise, Sunset!

this boutta get interesting……. it gets kinda messy but don’t worry, it isn’t over yet 🙏🙏🙏 also trevor can’t spell over text to save his life

//

Lamar didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. He just kept thinking the whole situation over, trying his hardest to connect the dots. Make some sense of it, or at least find some logical way to deny the truth. Had it always been Franklin? It’s not like Lamar ever had a long term girlfriend, or even a chick he was hung up on like his… friend. How long had he been completely naïve? He felt stupid for not noticing sooner. He didn’t even have anyone to confide in. He obviously couldn’t confide in Frank right now. Shit. How would he face him? Lamar screwed his eyes shut tight. What the fuck was he gonna do? He tried thinking about who to turn to. Michael was obviously a no-go, what with the dynamic those two had. Then he thought about Trevor. Maybe he’d help. Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

hey

crazy guy

wut leroy. u need smthn?

uh, yeah

sort of

wut iz it?

some complicated bs again. nothin new.

cant u go 2 frank 4 whtevr prblm ur having

not exactly

can i meet u somewhere private?

wut 4

u tryna fuk me leroy?

loco. no.

jus. meet me @ vanilla unicorn asap

Lamar sighed heavily, starting to wonder if this was gonna be a bad idea to try and talk to him about this. But Trevor was kinda fruity anyway, so at least he wouldn’t judge. His phone buzzed again.

alrdy hear bro

Lamar raced over to the strip club, going through the back entrance. Trevor was sitting on his desk, already waiting for Lamar’s arrival.

“LD! What brings you to my fine establishment at this time?” He stood up, but remained leaning against the desk behind him.

“Listen man, it’s.. it’s serious.”

Trevor’s faced lifted, looking surprised. Or.. whatever concerned looked like by his terms.

“How serious we talkin’ bro?”

“Ion know, just some stupid shit I’ve been tryna wrap my head around.”

“Uhh, elaborate on that?”

“It’s gotta do with Fr-…eaky shit going on with me.”

Trevor squinted at him, like he was trying to read Lamar’s mind.

“Like..?”

“Something to do with love, I think?”

“Oh. Well. Why’d you come to me for help?”

“Because I..” He said, the words deflating in his mouth.

“I think you’re the only person who could understand where I’m coming from?”

“…I’m not reading ya. Just say it, Lamar. Jeez.”

“I think I’m in love with someone.”

A long pause filled the air with tension.

“That it?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Jesus bro, what is the matter with you right now? You look like you’re gonna faint.”

“It’s, it’s someone we know, alright? There.”

Trevor squinted his eyes again, but not for long. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and he stood upright from the desk he was perched on.

“Wait a minute…”

Lamar looked down at the ground, embarrassment swirling around in his stomach. He felt like some child that had been yelled at for stealing some candy. He didn’t like it. He was a grown fuckin’ man for crying out loud.

“You don’t mean..”

He stood there, saying nothing and grabbing his arm protectively. The silence was back, lingering for too long.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Trevor said, almost inaudible.

“Wh.. what?” Lamar spluttered out, looking up.

“I fucking knew it!”

Somehow hearing those words comforted and pissed off Lamar. Obviously Trevor wasn’t planning on judging him for it, but how did he know before him?

“What the fuck you mean you knew?!”

“Oh please, Lamar. You aren’t a very subtle person.”

“I am too!”

“No. You’re not. You’re really not.”

“Tell me. How, how am I not subtle as a motherfucker?”

“Hmm… I can think of a few instances to count, but honestly a perfect example was that conversation we had dropping those cars off for he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Lamar cocked his head sideways, confused. Trevor shook his head before starting his sentence back up.

“Remember when you ah… inquired about Michael and I? Our past?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“You compared us to some.. I don’t know, divorced couple or something. Figuring it was romantic?” He averted his gaze, turning pink.

“Well, I mean after the whole rundown of our partnership, I asked you about how you and our boy Frankie met.”

“Mhm..”

“And you gave me some weird, uncomfortable story about you having a threesome with him- Which he apparently wasn’t even apart of to begin with. Didn’t know why he even appeared in that memory, but I guess it sort of makes sense now. It was also the fact you.. uh, deciphered my relationship, and tried to compare it to you and Frank. That’s how I started to catch on.”

“Shit.”

“I mean I… I was in the same boat as you, kid. You were right, y’know.”

“I was?”

“Michael and I… were never perfect. But back then I was,” His voice lowered.

“…Am.” He corrected, voice barely above a whisper. Coughing, he continued.

“In love with him. Or something.”

“Shit, for real?”

“For reals homie. I know what you’re going through. Only difference is Mikey uh.. was a little more repressed than I was. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Lamar stood in shock, eventually flopping down on the couch.

“What the fuck am I gon’ do, Trevor?”

“Well, I know I’m friends with him but I’m not exactly as close to him as you or Mike. So I can’t exactly say whether or not he’s like Michael in that regard, you know?”

“Fuck, man…”

“Hey.. I uh, I’m sorry if I wasn’t much help. I never really knew how to deal with those feelings towards Mike. It’s like, even harder to manage when you have a bond like that.”

“No, no. I needed this I think.”

“Go home, Lamar. Try to get some rest or something.”

As he got up, he placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

For the first time since they met, Trevor gave him a genuine smile. He patted his hand and scooted him out the door. Driving back, he still felt sort of restless. Even if he did sleep, it wasn’t gonna be enough. When he got back home and in his bed, he pulled out his phone.

So you’re back.

yup

i thought about what you said

Wait - really?

yeah. i’m a fuckin idiot

Doesn’t take a psychic to know that.

hey

that’s uncalled for lady

What is it you need? It’s very late you know - is what I said keeping you up?

bingo bitch

and uh yeah, i need to know what the fuck u said to franklin

what does he know?

All I told him was that I saw you at his house - very frequently I might add.

I might’ve mentioned you were there in his old room all the time, in his bed with someone he knew - an older woman, perhaps? He didn’t take it too well.

wait a minute

his auntie? i mean she bad and all but

i never.. like did anything with her. not like that

He thought differently. The implications might’ve been misread - why would you choose his childhood bed for something like that? Shame on you

and i might’ve picked the wrong fuckin person to speak to

lady, what the fuck? i never fucked his auntie!

i wouldn’t do that to him, even if she got a dumptruck ass

You are a strange man Lamar. All I saw was you two in his bed, very, very often.

I wouldn’t have known you felt anything for him had you not contacted me - and even now you still made a pass at her!

all we did was talk! n there’s nothing wrong wit admiring ass.

Whatever you say - oh wait…

I’m seeing something

goddammit

it better be good

I’m seeing you two again - and you’re right. You’re talking… about Franklin?

why else would we be in his room. if i was gon fuck his auntie we would’ve done it in hers or sumn

or in the livin room maybe.

I’m seeing something else now - he’s taken the place of his aunt. Oh. Wow…

what? what is it?

what do u see?

I… completely misinterpreted Franklin’s reading. It seems like it was supposed to be him in her place.

I’m not sure how he read it exactly - my best guess was that it wasn’t the latter.

And seeing as he no longer lived there, the vision got mixed up some how for both of us. You did have some connection to her though - don’t lie. That was most likely the problem.

i mean yeah. i hit on her a couple times

maybe thought it about it once or twice

More than that.

whatever. still, i ain’t do shit to her, ion stoop that low lady

Then I apologize. But I cannot fix this problem for you - you’re going to have to talk things out

Because right now, he’s assuming you’re acting weird because you actually *did* something with his aunt.

Fuck me man

this sucks

ur evil lady, u know that?

Hey, I’m not the one hanging out with his aunt. Now go to bed. I’ll deal with you another time.

hey wait

come back

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

“God fuckin’ damn it not again!”

He chucked his phone against the wall, and began yelling into his pillow. He wasn’t gonna sleep right at all until he fixed this mess. Fucking psychic lady.

The next morning when Lamar passed by his mirror he audibly gasped. He looked like shit. He looked like he was definitely hiding something. And he knew he couldn’t see Frank today. His phone buzzed and as soon as he glanced down he felt the urge to throw it across the room. Speak of the fuckin’ devil. Franklin was fucking calling him. Taking a deep breath, he hit answer.

“Yo.”

“Hey L. How you feelin’?”

“Better. Thanks.”

“Yeah man. You know what was up wit’ you or…”

“I.. I think it was some sort of stomach bug man. Doin’ alright now tho.”

“Glad to hear.”

“So are you callin’ me for something or-“

“Actually yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”

“N-now?”

“Later. Sunset? That cool wit’ you?”

“Uh yeah, yeah. Heard it’s a full moon.”

“Dope. Been meaning to talk about this for a while anyway, and you always dragging me around to go see the sunrise.”

“Makes sense.” More sense than the shit he was in the middle of.

“See you then?”

“Of course dog.”

Click. Lamar dropped his shoulders, which had grown tense during the duration of the call. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to understand what he was dealing with better. He thought to himself that he couldn’t possibly be gay, because he loved himself some hoes now and then. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel the same around Franklin. Women and men… was that possible? Could you be into men AND women? He looked it up on his phone, and found a definition that fit him. Bisexual? That’s a thing? He thought it was just, gay and straight. That you couldn’t be both. But… at least that was accounted for. Putting his phone away, he moved on to the next part of the puzzle. What was he going to do when night time came? He couldn’t straight up tell Franklin. That would ruin everything. But how would he explain that he didn’t fuck his Aunt? He had to have a reason to back it up. Either way, he was screwed.

Night came too quick. Lamar kept pacing his room, not taking his eyes off his phone that rested on his bed. Any minute Frank would call him. Any fucking minute now. He still didn’t have a plan. What was he going to do? The phone lit up, buzzing loudly. Oh no. He practically dove to answer it, feigning a nonchalant tone. It wasn’t very impressive.

“Heyyy Frank. I was waiting for word from you.”

“Hey. I’m on my way, be ready.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“See you in 5 L.”

Even after Frank hung up, he didn’t lower the phone from his ear. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, ohshit. He was panicking now, phone dropping to the floor. Not noticing how long he was standing there, he heard a car pull up, then honk. Oh, shit. He raced out the door clumsily, trying to shove his phone in his pocket. Opening the car door, he was hit with the now overwhelming scent of Franklin. Something along the lines of weed and the same cologne he’d be buying for years. He remembered how Tanisha had gotten it for him back when they first started dating as a gift. The detail only made him more nauseous.

“Hey LD.”

“Hey.”

“Get in homie, I got a good spot for us, real sick view n shit.”

“Ah.. aight.”

The car ride wasn’t entirely awful for Lamar, listening to Collard Greens play loudly through the speakers. Franklin had taken them to some secluded spot near Vespucci beach, where no one would bother them. As they got out of the car, Lamar got a clear view of the sunset. It was even better than a sunrise. They found a bench to sit on, and Lamar felt like there wasn’t enough space between them. Did it magically fucking shrink as soon as they sat down? Shit. He cleared his throat, trying to seem neutral and not like he was internally freaking the fuck out.

“So uh… what’d you need to talk to me about?”

Franklin sighed, and Lamar’s stomach was in knots.

“It’s.. just somethin’ I been thinkin’ about for a while. I really jus’ didn’t know how to bring it up or whatever. But let’s jus’ enjoy the sunset right now.”

In contrast to how every sunrise went, the sunset contained shades of pinks and purples. There were also mixed shades of green, from the combination of yellow and blue clashing together. It was a miraculous sight. Frank was right, why didn’t they see sunsets more often? He watched the light sink down past the water, replaced by moonlight not much later. The two sat in silence, as stars filled the sky. The view had grown darker, but he could see the moonbeam reflect in the calm waves. He turned to Franklin, who had a serene expression on his face. He was blue in the moonlight, and it made Lamar feel all kinds of things he never felt for anyone before. Franklin side-eyed him, sitting upright. Here goes nothing.

“Lamar… I just. I gotta ask. I uh.. heard from someone,” Fucking psychic lady.

“That you uh.. and my.. Denise. My Aunt. Were uh.. you were at my house or something with her?”

Lamar eyes were wide. Franklin looked anywhere but him, clearly uncomfortable bringing the topic up. He kept tripping over his words, not knowing how to ask.

“Are.. and I won’t be mad if you are, but are you… and my Aunt.. Are y’all foolin’ around?” He scrunched his face up getting the words out. He almost looked hurt, like he was betrayed at the thought of it all.

“What?”

“Are you fuckin’ my Auntie or what man?!” He forced out.

“Franklin. What.”

He knew the psychic lady had said he got the wrong idea, but hearing it out loud from him was just mind boggling.

“Jesus Christ Franklin, no. I’m not! Why would you even think that?!”

Now he felt hurt. Did he really think Lamar would do something like that?

“You say shit about her all the fuckin’ time! I don’t even know why, because she’s fuckin’ nuts man! I have heard a million and one remarks about her from yo bitchass self!”

“Yeah but I would never-“

“And in my fuckin’ bed man?! Are you for real?!”

“I’m not fucking her! I never was!”

“That’s not what I fuckin’ heard dog! And don’t think I haven’t noticed how weird you’ve been actin’, all guilty n shit. I knew you were hidin’ shit from me, I jus’ didn’t think it’d be my absolute worst fuckin’ nightmare!”

“Franklin! For fucks sake bro that’s not why I’ve been actin’ so weird!”

“Then tell me, exactly, what the hell your problem is!”

Lamar’s mouth hung open, looking for what the fuck to say.

“Homie. It’s not like that. I’m seriously, seriously not fucking her. I’m… just-”

“What, Lamar?!”

“I think I’m in love.”

Shock covered Franklin’s face. Complete, utter shock. His face then twisted into a furious expression.

“Are you fuckin’ for real right now? You’re not fuckin’ my Aunt, you’re in love with her?! Fuck you man!”

“Wait, no that’s not what was I was implying-“

Franklin shot up from his seat, throwing his hands up.

“You’ve officially lost yo mind dog. You two enjoy each other. I’m fuckin’ out of here bro.”

“Franklin, wait-“

“No, no. I.. I need to go. I need to clear my mind or whatever the fuck, because I am just… unbelievably pissed right now.”

“But I’m not-“

“Save it, LD. I’ll… catch you later. Or something. Bye.”

Franklin walked back to his car, abandoning Lamar. Some how, this was worse than confessing to him. He felt sick to his stomach. How the hell was he gonna fix this mess? He remained seated, watching the water lap at the shore. He needed to fix this. And he knew, although he wish he didn’t have to, that’d he’d have to come clean. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship, and some how still did by just not blurting it out. Soon. Soon, after Franklin was ready to talk to him again. He prayed to a higher being, hoping desperately it’d all work out.

//end of pt 2!!!!! i’m sorry this is kinda angsty or whatever :( but i am gonna write a happy ending for this!! lamar deserves the world i love his character sm *sobs* (also sorry this part’s longer than the last one LMAO)

[starlight-ascension]

The girls as Power Quotes

Nagisa: “You could sooner divert a river from its course than deny my nature” 

Honoka: “You will be reduced down to a single atom once I am done with you”

Hikari: “I see now that the circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant: it’s what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.” 

Nozomi: “Impudent of you to assume I will meet a mortal end” 

Rin: “I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me” 

Urara: “Each comment is a prayer, bringing me closer to emerging from my cursed plane. Thank you for heralding the apocalypse this old god brings.” 

Komachi: “Every man’s heart one day beats its final beat. His lungs breathe their final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse in the body of others and makes them bleed deeper in something that’s larger than life, than his essence, his spirit, will be immortalized by the storytellers.” 

Karen: “The words of prophets are written on the subway walls” 

Kurumi: “In a world of blood and chaos, rabbits must hunt as wolves” 

Love: “Tonight you spoke with the devil. The devil looked a lot like you.” 

Miki: “Your boos mean nothing. I’ve seen what makes you cheer.” 

Inori: “No pet is perfect, it becomes perfect when you accept it for what it is.” 

Setsuna: “Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. You cannot kill me in a way that matters” 

Tsubomi: “No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle” 

Erika: “Do you think God stays in heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he’s created?” 

Itsuki: “I will seize destiny by the throat and force it into the shape of my choosing” 

Yuri: “God gave me depression because if my ambitions went unchecked I would have bested him in hand-to-hand combat by age 16” 

Hibiki: “Bury me shallow, I’ll be back” 

Kanade: “I hope your gods forgive you because we surely won’t”

Ellen: “I am a monument to all your sins” 

Ako: “The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor. What an injustice.”

Miyuki: “There’s no light at the end of this tunnel, so it’s a good thing we brought matches” 

Akane: “If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight just like I always have”

Yayoi: “There is not enough time to make all the things one’s imagination can conjure” 

Nao: “All these moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain” 

Reika: “Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.” 

Ayumi: “Our paths may have crossed briefly but you still had the misfortune of knowing me” 

Mana: “Whenever you look at another creator or an artist that you respect, you’re only seeing what took them a long time of work and doubt to push through. You never see the struggle behind it. So you think you’re the only one struggling, when in fact, everyone goes through it.” 

Rikka: “Take this gift, for the gods surely won’t” 

Alice: “The anger in your heart warms you now, but will leave you cold in your grave.” 

Makoto: “I’ve been through hell and I’ll come out singing” 

Aguri: “You kneel before my throne unaware that it was born on lies” 

Regina: “What is better: to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort” 

Megumi: “This is hell’s territory and I am beholden to no gods” 

Hime: “I thought there were no heroes left in the world” 

Yuko: “To feel sorrow is to deserve peace” 

Iona: “God may judge you but his sins outnumber your own” 

Haruka: “All knowledge is ultimately based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?” 

Minami: “What the fuck is that, ‘act my age’? The ocean is old as fuck, it will still drown your ass with vigor.”

Kirara: “If you don’t like what I’m doing you can try to stop me, but given that not even God has succeeded yet I don’t fancy your odds” 

Twilight: “You are alone, child. There is only darkness for you, and only death for your people. These ancients are just the beginning. I will command a great and terrible army, and we will sail to a billion worlds. We will sail until every light has been extinguished. You are strong, child, but I am beyond strength. I am the end, and I have come for you.” 

(yeah i did twilight instead of towa because this quote is incredibly badass and only fits a villain) 

Mirai: “Do I look like the kind of woman who dies?” 

Liko: “God is dead and soon we will follow” 

Kotoha: “To become god is the loneliest achievement of them all” 

Ichika: “Dude, sucking at something is the first step towards being sort of good at something” 

Himari: “What are you gonna do with that big bat? Gonna hit me? Better make it count. Better make it hurt. Better kill me in one shot.” 

Aoi: “I will face god and walk backwards into hell” 

Yukari: “I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering, and tonight I intend to make you very wise.” 

Akira: “Too many people have opinions on things they know nothing about. And the more ignorant they are, the more opinions they have.”

Ciel: “My body may be a temple but I am the God to whom it is devoted. Do not presume to tell me how I may decorate my altar.” 

Hana: “Violence for violence is the rule of beasts” 

Saaya: “People say ‘phase’ as if impermanence means insignificance. Show me a permanent state of the self.”

Homare: “Do not let my origin story become yours” 

Emiru: “You can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding.” 

Ruru: “One day you’ll decompose and I’ll be there to watch it happen” 

Hikaru: “No curse of mine shall befall you from my dying breath” 

Lala: “Pick a god and pray” 

Elena: “One day you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled” 

Madoka: “My father taught me as a child that if you shoot for the moon and miss, the cold vaccuum of space will suck out your eyeballs. Failure is not an option. Go kill them.” 

Yuni: “What are you going to buy in your lifetime that’s worth more to you than your own humanity” 

Nodoka: “I’ll do whatever you want” “Then perish” 

Chiyu: “You know what they say about healers and poisoners: similar skill set, very different philosophies”. 

Hinata: “The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility” 

Asumi: “There is no point being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes” 

[cupcakemolotov]

Twisted Intentions: Chapter Two

@accidental-rambler​ let us not go back and check how long this chapter has been coming, yeah? But I think its finally finished? Probably. We are ending it here, at least.

Everyone please be checking the tags on this one. It is a fairly more darker take than I usually do, these two crazy murder fiends, and there is smut. The first scene below has some murder to it, but nothing smutty. You can find both chapters on A03: Chapter One, Chapter Two.

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Regency; Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon; Possessive Klaus Mikaelson; Vampire Caroline; F/F Smut; M/F smut; Non-Klaroline Smut (referenced); Referenced Threesome F/F/M; Canon-Typical Violence; Not Canon Compliant; Dark Caroline Forbes; Past-Prostitution; Klaroline End Game; no non-con; Suggested Sexual Coercion; Vampire Klaus Mikaelson; Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson; Compulsion; Murder; Dark; Violence; Smut; Orgasm Delay/Denial; Oral Sex; Sex; Murder Kink; Biting; Blood Kink;  Mutual Masturbation  

                                                          -

The pub was quiet so early in the evening, dust lingering the corners the same as the plague lingered on the street. It was not a place she would have willingly visited, but some summons could not be ignored. Casually, she ran her fingers over her lips to make sure she’d cleaned up any of the blood that might have lingered.

Today was her third day as a vampire, and tonight had been her first solo deliberate kill. Her sire had taught her how to compel a man, the taste of a rabbiting pulse against her tongue, the fastest way to a heart with her fingers, and she had taken well to the hunt. Caroline felt no shame in learning to enjoy what she had become, to embrace the choice that she had been given, that she had made.

Some monsters, after all, were not nearly so kind as to show their devil’s bargains with fangs and eyes, though she had learned to recognize them all the same. But while the life of a whore had taught her many things, this new existence had been illuminating. Caroline had learned to avoid the sun, begun to learn the language of the night outside of the stained sheets of her old bedroom, and not once had she gone hungry. Here in the midst of the plague, blood was as easy to steal as the streets made dying, and for the first time in her seventeen years, she felt strong. Powerful. The predator instead of prey, and it was a heady feeling after years of being powerless.

But dangerous. She could not forget the dangers of this new life. Dangerous that she had not yet fully come to recognize. While her sire was indulgent of his newest creations, she was not such a fool to take his pretty did not hide a terrible sort of lethal practicality. Those dimples masked a violence she had caught lingering in his eyes, and every instinct she had warned her that there was more to him than he wanted her to know. He was deliberately mysterious, and while he’d offered so few expectations for their behavior, showing them how best to indulge their sins, and Caroline wondered why.

Compulsion was no idle tool, and though it had opened the world to so many whims, greed was a risk she was not willing to indulge in. Not yet. Humans might easily be bent to her will, but she would do well to remember the lessons she’d learned and been taught in her handful of years. Avarice could leave her the fattened calf for others as easily she could take from those less wise. She was not the only creation her sire had made, and from his offhand comments, age seemed to make a difference in strength.

Better then, to teach herself control, to master every instinct and then indulge only when she controlled every aspect of the experience. She had no intention of letting the gift she had been given control her, not when she’d vowed never again would she have a master except herself.

Never again.

Though she would have to be careful.

Glancing towards the back of the room, she pursed her lips at the trio of men who unknowingly awaited her presence at a table. Caroline recognized two of them from her lessons, though her sire had not introduced her to them. She had not asked to know them, not when she understood how they watched her. Lustful, but stupid.

They thought themselves clever, and the new monster that lived in her bone and marrow that she knew in the back of her throat as hunger, did not approve of their ilk. They’d smelled weak. Eager. It wasn’t her place to judge her sire’s choices, but she’d been certain he’d picked up on her disapproval.

Chosen to be amused rather than offended.

Tonight, the blood that stained their clothing, the scent of sex and death that lingered on their skin did nothing endure her to them. Mixing those pleasures when you had so little control told her that her original assessment had been correct. Wrinkling her nose, Caroline wondered if leaving would be a mark against her.

She was not given the chance to find out.

Awareness and warning prickled down her spine, and Caroline turned to find her sire watching her from the doorway. His lips curled at the edges, a hint of dimple catching in one cheek, and he strode forward to meet her. “Good evening, love. I must say, your new life suits you.”

His eyes dropped from her face to skim her figure, the dimple deepening. Caroline gave the endearment little meaning, he dolled out charm too easily for it to be sincere. But even knowing some of his truth, the impact of him was unavoidable. Her sire was a feast for her eyes and the monster she had become did not find the violence of him unbecoming.

However, the compliment was sincere, so she allowed a smile to touch her lips. Her new dress was well made, but not so expensive to draw attention, but it was pretty and hers. It had been a very long time since she owned her own clothes.

“Thank you.”

His gaze swept back to her face as he approached and offered her his arm. She took it, because she would not be accused of not having manners, and he sighed, head angling as if letting her into his confidence. She took no stock in that either.

“It is a pity that the same cannot be said for the rest.”

Klaus, Caroline had learned, was as mercurial with his violence as he was with his mercy. He’d plucked her from the street as easily as he’d left others to die, had shown her the fastest way to a man’s heart with dimples and bloody clothes. Tonight, there was something in his voice, a hint of roughness that did not bode well for any of them and she had no intention of being a target for that rage.

“They seem to lack some... subtlety,” she agreed.

His smile shifted to a sort of dangerous amusement. “Let’s find out just how little they have exhibited, shall we?”

Very aware that this was not her choice, Caroline merely hummed in agreement and let him escort her to the table. Violence did not frighten her, but something about the way he moved, the pleasant tilt of his lips, was unnerving.

“Hello, lads. It seems that you have enjoyed yourselves.”

They went still in front of her, a court very aware of its king’s displeasure, for all that he was smiling. Lifting Caroline’s hand from his arm, he brushed her knuckles lightly with his lips. “Do make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

In the next heartbeat, he’d twisted and was suddenly holding a twitching heart in his left hand. Caroline paused from where she’d gathered her skirts to settle, her heart a thump in her throat at the ease, the speed of his strike. But it wasn’t exactly fear that danced beneath her skin, though wariness had her watching him carefully. Settling the heart casually on the table, he motioned for her to sit on the empty seat.

She sat.

Reaching into his pocket, Klaus removed a handkerchief and meticulously began to clean his hand. “It really is so much easier to deal with baby vampires when the sire bond exists, but I suppose you can’t win them all.” His smile widened at the sudden, sharp stink of fear. “I am a benevolent ruler, but there are some lines that will not be tolerated being crossed. Leaving bodies where they can be found by anyone, even during a plague, will not be allowed. Is that understood?”

Next to them, the body finally toppled to the floor, as if it had finally understood it was dead. Caroline stared at the heartless vampire, considered how quickly his life had been snuffed out, and she arranged her skirts to avoid the growing puddle of blood while wondering why she was here. She had not been so careless with her teeth or metaphorical cock.

Across from her, the remaining vampires stammered their understanding, but when her eyes returned to her sire’s face, it was to find him watching her. There was something about his expression, the set of his jaw, that left her very certain that this mess was much as a message for her as for them, and she worked through the whys. The point of this little warning. This show.

She had no care for these men, and she was certain, neither did her sire. Even with this warning, it was likely the remaining two vampires would be dead within the week. Klaus had never struck her as anything but calculating, even in his whims, and it dawned on her that perhaps that was his point.

Her sire wanted her to see just how easily he would snuff the life from his creations, should it be necessary. Should they make it necessary... Vampires were monsters, but they were hidden, tucked carefully between the shadows of the nights and humanity’s soft dreams of safety.

But if they did, he might offer a quick, clean death. That message was for these men. Her message was tangled in the quickness of the death, the way he had offered her his arm before leading her to this little slaughter. He might find her amusing, might be indulgent of her opinions, but she could not count on that indulgence to save her.

Caroline tipped her in silent acknowledgement of his message. Betrayal, she knew without it being said, would have far more dire consequences.

Link: A03

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 1529

Ship: prinxiety  (Get ready people.)

TW: So, a bunch of kissing - though no shirtless people this time; a little bit of for-play (Can it be called for-play if nothing really happens?), hard teasing, flirting, very subtle mentions of cruelty and something resembling suicide, though it is not exactly that, cursing (a lot) and a bunch of light-hearted backstory angst because why not? Let me know if anything else pops up :3

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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

Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Roman often tends to forget what it is like to be happy. That one little feeling that grows inside your chest, suffocating you in the best way possible until you blow up, smiling and grinning (in his case talking and twirling around like a little princes).

It’s been so long since this feeling grew out of proportion. Since he wanted to jump around and talk someone’s ears of. Wanted to sing out loud.

But right now, no matter how Roman’s body would be reacting to this much happiness in any other situation, he just pulled the Devil closer to him, grinning into the kiss.

V smiled too, leaning his forehead against the thief’s. “You seem awfully happy.” he murmured, teasingly. As if the pink on his pail cheeks and the way his non-heart was beating didn’t imply the exact same thing.

He was awfully happy. And judging by the way Roman was literally vibrating, he was as well.

“I just kissed the man of my nightmares, who wouldn’t be?” Ro grinned even wider.

Virgil couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head against the being’s.

“What? It’s not like you didn’t get lucky! Just look at me!” Ro pulled away, with Virgil still on his lap, gesturing at himself.

“I don’t think emotionally fragile and easily breakable is a think you should be proud of.”

“Hey! I’ll let you know! I’m much tougher then you think! I might just be tougher than you!”

“Oh really.” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Let’s put that to a test, shall we…?” the dark toothy grin wasn’t nearly enough to forebode the kings next actions.

Roman didn’t even have time to blink before he was laying once again. Hands above his head, pinned to the bed.

Something snaked up his leg, circling around his thigh. Too high, he might ad… This was dangerous. Very, very dangerous…

“Now you can show me how though you really are.” the Devil’s eyes darkened, clouds circling around like small tornados. “When someone’s holding you down…” he leaned in close. Close enough that he could feal his breath on his lips. “…pinning you…”

“… what will the though thief do?” he hummed. Deep voice resonating through Roman’s whole body.

“He… am….” the human gulped. He hated how clipped his voice came out.

But Hades, did Virgil love the flustered expression Roman was wearing. He could hear his heart beating faster then light, blood rushing in his wains. See his brain failing to function. Cheeks flushed and eyes unable to leave Virgil’s lips. Roman was completely gone. Melting underneath the Devil.

“He what?” V smirked, voice dark with lust. Tail tightening around Ro’s thigh.

Roman yelped.

A very high-pitched, very restrained, very embarrassing yelp. And Virgil couldn’t take it. He fell back onto the thief’s thighs, tail uncurling, hand’s letting go, howling with laughter.

And Roman just laid there, a giant emotional mess watching the Devil with big round eyes.

“Oh Hades! Lord of the darkness! I can’t, I’m sorry.” the king stuttered out through laughter. “Don’t take it too seriously. I was just having some fun.”

“We’ll if this is the kind of fun you like to have…” the thief blinked, barely breathing.

But Virgil didn’t even hear him through the laughter. He just leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re adorable when flustered, liveling.”

“Yeah yeah.” Ro rolled his eye, trying to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat and took in the whole of his supposed captor. Apparently that thing that abused his thigh earlier was a long thin tail, similar to the wings he saw earlier. Huh… interesting.

But didn’t the Devil say- “Where are your horns?”

“What?” Virgil wiped of a tear, trying his best to calm down.

“Your horns. You said ‘tails and horns and everything’. Where are the horns?”

“Ah well… Their here.”

And suddenly, Roman was looking at two small horns poking out of V’s scalp. Barely visible from the hair. “Oh, dear Gods! They are so small!”

“Oh shut up.”

“No! You’ve got small little hornies!”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“They suit your personality so much! Small and adorable! I just -”

Virgil sighed defeated. “Apparently not…”

His fun has ended…

-

Nobody knows how long the two didn’t come out of that room.

Well… nobody except Remi. He’s been lounging around the throne room for Hades-knows-how-long, sipping at his delicious coffee.

Souls, no souls, he wouldn’t have been working even if Virgil was around. But he wasn’t. He was off with that boy-toy off his doing dark-knows-what.

If you’d ask Remi, the king went soft. But he never really was tough to begin with…

All those years ago, when they used to go down to earth and do crazy shit nobody even dared to think of! That was the shit! Them - the duo. Tearing people in half and making buildings crumble and burn. But thinking back, even Remi knew it wasn’t Virgil’s free will talking. The former prince always looked back at the damage they caused with a sad look in his eyes. Guilt.

No, it was not him. It was Lucifer.

The former Devil was the truest meaning of the word. Remi hasn’t been here long enough to get to know him, but the twelve or so years spent with him in charge were enough. Abusive, power-hungry, mad. Nothing was ever enough for that creature.

Not his wife, Remi never got to meet. Not his son, who grew up to be too weak for the kings liking. Not Hell itself.

Remi wasn’t blind. Nor was he stupid. Lazy and bitchy, maybe, but those were his best traits! Besides for the obvious great fashion sense and awesome personality. But he was a mind reader for fuck’s sake. And Virgil’s thoughts weren’t exactly quiet.

Safe to say it was best for everyone involved when Lucifer got banned from Hell. Well, not exactly from it - they were demons, but not even they were cruel enough to unleash such a monster to the upper world. He got sent to the deepest darkest pit of Hell where no server had acces to. Not even the prince himself.

And after the immediate coronation of Virgil, the power the former Devil once had now belonged to V. Who never used it, unless necessary.

So yeah… maybe Remi did miss those times when Virgie was more fun, but he sure as Hell didn’t miss those thoughts of his swirling around in both of their heads.

Now at least it was mostly quiet.

The Devil seemed happy. Unusually so. Remi even got his fucking coffee! Who would’ve though?

He chewed on the straw of his almost empty drink. No matter what, the king was the king. And right now, he was locked away somewhere with his little Human doing dark-knows what. And Hell, if Remi wasn’t curious as to what it was!

And what it really was, was nothing.

V laid in his bed with his head on Romans chest, completely oblivious to the outside world. This was their bubble - their safe place.  Nobody could walk in without permission and nobody could take Roman away either.

He wouldn’t let them.

Maybe not that. But Virgil knew Ro would have to leave at some point. He couldn’t stay... Though he’d rather not think about that just yet.

Instead, he looked up at his liveling and watched him. Listened to the steady beet of his heart. Who knew it would be a Human thief that would end up owning his?

Hair still damp from the shower he took earlier. Eyes closed. Smiling.

Yeah… Virgil was a lucky son of a Devil. And nobody could deny that.

Father wouldn’t have approved, but mom… Mom would have loved Roman.

She herself has fallen for a mortal. Which ended up being her downfall. But she never regretted. She never coward.

Not once.

“Don’t be afraid love. It doesn’t hurt.” she said.

“But I am afraid, mommy…”

“Don’t be, my dark angel. I am not afraid.”

“How?”

“Because, when you love somebody enough, you’re not afraid to give up anything.”

Now, Virgil knew this was faulty logic. If she loved her son as much as she said she did, why didn’t she give up dying on the account of her supposed love? And why did she need to give up anything at all?

If she loved someone, shouldn’t they be kind and understanding enough to at least come to a compromise? Find some way for his mommy not to have to die?

The mortal probably was dead by now, forgetting all about his beloved mother the moment she stepped out of their life. But she didn’t…

It was faulty logic. Very stupid and faulty logic.

But somewhere deep down, he understood her…

She did love him. More then anything in the whole universe. But sometimes love isn’t enough.

And so, she perished. Erased herself from existence without a single tear ruining her perfect face. And a beautiful smile.

That’s what Virgil remembers. That smile.

And as he looked up at Roman, he saw the same one. Same peaceful, astonishing small smile lingering on the lips he was kissing just a moment ago.

So, he kissed them again. And let the realization of what he was about to do next swallow him whole.

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

I don’t feel like this chapter is very consistent... But oh well. I refuse to sit on it any longer. I have a last chapter to write!

Not that I want to end this story, but I have such a juicy ending prepared I just can’t wait to write it!! ^^

Anyhow, this was a little bit of backstory before the actual end. Roman already had his, so now it was time for V’s. And that brings us to the last chapter coming soon. 

Also some more art because I feel like drawing V and all his forms. Ya know, all the forms of evil :3.

Okay XD It’s late and I’m just spewing out words now. 

As always, hope you liked the chapter! <3

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@a-formless-entity

@lovelivingmydreams

@alice-only-me

[opheliasbrokenmind]

can you write hc about tommy and the reader getting drunks together?

of course!! uhm before reading this, let me tell you alcohol is not your friend and it can cause unwanted situations (i wish i wasn’t talking from experience lmao) and i hope you like it<3

‘arthur and i realised something’ john blurted out during a family celebration and tommy raised his eyebrows, waiting what random thing his brother was about to say

‘yes we did, indeed’ arthur finished his whiskey and motioned to refill the glass

you smiled and looked at tommy, then turned to john, ‘what’s it, you drunkards?’ the man on your right pressed his lips firmly to stop the laugh escaping from his lips 

‘well, we’ve never seen you drunk’

‘me or tommy?’ you asked innocently, knowing john meant exactly you

‘i think you know the answer, love. we’ve seen drunk tommy a few times but you? you always look like you haven’t even finished a glass’ 

‘maybe it’s because i know when to stop, unlike you?’ you joked but they weren’t going to let you go

‘oh i saw y/n drunk’ ada commented and he got all of his brothers’ attention, ‘so did polly. not a scene you’d like to witness if you ask me’ she winked at you and you rolled your eyes, ‘that happened only once’

‘now i’m more than curious’ arthur said and you sighed, ‘what do you want?’

‘get drunk tonight, just for once y/n’ you opened your mouth to protest arthur but john was quick to stop you, ‘don’t be a pussy, y/n. we’re no strangers’

‘we are family, y/n. that’s a family celebration’ tommy’s voice came behind your hear and you gave up, ‘only if i get to see you drunk, too’

‘no way, i have meetings tomorrow’ 

you arched an eyebrow and leaned in to reach his ear, ‘come on, tom. it’s just a celebration between the family’ but something in your voice didn’t sound like you were family to him

‘get us whiskey’ you shook your head immediately, ‘there’s no way i’m getting drunk on whiskey again’

‘the usual then’ john muttered under his breath but you didn’t see the smile he was performing

the other shelby brother looked at you once arthur and john left to grab the drinks, ‘scared, are we?’ 

‘should i be?’ you teased back and he didn’t hide his smile this time, ‘i’m excited to see you drunk, darling’

‘oh, don’t get used to it’ 

you waited for a response but the brothers interrupted you, ‘there we are, ey?’ you glanced over the drinks and laughed, ‘beer and red wine? are you serious?’

‘i wouldn’t laugh if i were you, y/n. this little guy here,’ arthur stopped to point his finger at the wine bottle, ‘it can look harmless from outside but let me tell ya, it’s the devil’

then you clinked your beer bottles with tommy and started to drink. when they were empty, john grinned widely

‘here’s our special mixture. red wine and apple juice. you need to drink as fast as you can’ he pushed the glasses to the two of you and you nodded, ‘mind if i take a sip from the wine?’

‘here, help yourself, love’ john handed you the bottle and your face went sour after the taste, ‘if a dog tasted this accidentally, he’d go blind’ you commented and the brothers laughed together

‘i asked for the cheapest one for you two’ arthur said and you turned to tommy with your glass, ‘shall we?’

he brought his glass, too and you sloshed down your drinks together, the strange taste burning your throat as you swallowed it

‘for your information lads, i don’t feel drunk’ john smiled and filled your glasses with wine and apple juice again, ‘drink up’

you put the empty glass on the table and leaned back on your chair, realising you started to feel a bit sleepy

‘now it’s time for beers’ arthur gave you the bottles and you smiled, ‘i can’t believe you dragged me into this’ 

‘oi y/n, are you chickening out?’

‘just fill the glasses, john’ you said and continued to drink your beer, eyeing tommy and hoping he wouldn’t notice

‘i’m as sober as a judge’ he said eventually and you swear to yourself, regretting your action. ‘we’ll see’

then you went for another round of john’s secret recipe as they watched you curiously, filling the glasses as quick as possible

after two wine shots and your third beer, you felt like the room was starting to move around you slowly. you pressed your feet firmly and tried to stay still but then a hand on your knee made you freeze

‘you’re doing alright?’ tommy asked as you stared at his hand, the soft skin of his palm was the most distracting thing in your life

you wondered if his beautiful hand was really resting on your knee or were you just imagining? then he applied a little pressure and you knew it was real

‘yeah, i’m alright’ you managed to say and took the glass that was waiting for you on the table, ‘cheers, tom’

‘you finished the fucking bottle but i still can’t get what kind of drunk you are’ john said and you giggled, ‘is that why you wanted to get me drunk?’

‘i thought that was obvious’ 

‘you could’ve just asked me or ada, y’know?’ arthur shook his head, ‘it wouldn’t be that funny, y/n’

‘i’m the emotional type i guess’ john laughed, ‘oh, poor y/n’

‘i would say a mix of emotional and philosophical’ ada corrected you and everyone smiled with that, including tommy

‘i don’t think so’ you murmured but polly heard you, ‘what’s the meaning of life? what if god has abandoned us?’ she quoted you and you gave a deep sigh, burying your face inside your hands

‘i might question a few things, yeah’

‘hmm, let’s ask you a few questions then’ john suggested and asked the first question, ‘how do you feel now love?’

‘like i’m about to throw up on my own shoes’ you said and rolled your eyes playfully at him, proud of yourself for speaking without falling asleep

‘are you still seeing that guy from the factory?’ ada sent a threatening look to his brother but arthur simply shrugged and waited for your answer

‘well, he said he wants to move to the countryside and raise children but you know, not my cup of tea’ 

‘does it scare you, the idea of settling down?’

‘no, john. the idea of being misunderstood scares me. i’d like to feel in peace for once in my life but it’s just... he isn’t the one for me’ there was a silence for a moment but you broke it, ‘i thought you were going to make tommy and me drunk, why’s he not getting any questions?’

‘what do you want to know?’ tommy asked and you bit your bottom lip nervously, but the amount of alcohol inside your body blurred your mind

‘the new girl, was it grace? so, she’s the one?’ you forced a smile not to look as miserable as you thought you were and looked at him

‘no’ he answered simply and you could swear your heart skipped a beat inside your ribcage. john grinned, ‘christ, tom. that was a fucking long explanation, i couldn’t even catch most of your words’

‘there isn’t much to explain. i prefer someone who i see as my equal’ tommy stared at you while speaking but you were too busy studying the pattern of the carpet under your shoes

‘guys, listen. i’ll tell you something but you’ve gotta believe me’ you announced and when you got their attention, you pointed at the carpet, ‘look, it’s moving. the pattern is moving. i guess it’s making some kind of dance’

john and arthur burst into laugh immediately but tommy stared at the carpet, ‘y/n’ 

‘yes, tom?’

‘i see it too, i think it’s waltzing’ with that, ada and polly joined to the laughing brothers while you looked at the floor with full attention

then a sob escaped your lips and he turned his gaze to you, ‘what happened?’

‘nothing, it’s just... i saw danny’s wife today and she looked... she didn’t look well and it pains me. i used to know danny, i looked after their children and now, everything’s so different. i hate the war, i hate it so much. i hate how it changed all of you and i couldn’t help anyone. i should’ve gone to the nursing school when it all started’

the family didn’t know what to say as tears continued to fall down your cheeks, they stayed silent until polly suggested to go home

‘spend the night here’ ada said and you accepted, you didn’t feel good

as time passed, you found yourself sneaking to tommy’s room, ‘tom? it’s me’ you whispered and he lit the oil lamp

‘i... couldn’t sleep’ you said and he patted the empty place on his bed, ready to welcome you inside his arms

‘i’m sorry for bringing up the war’ you whispered once you were laying together and he shook his head, ‘don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault’

‘i question a lot of things since then. the world, the people, the god... what kind of god lets something like this happen?’

‘maybe he’s just done with us people?’

‘but there are still good things in life, at least i believe that. there are horses, some good people, children, nature and then there is... you’

‘me? you think i’m good?’ you smiled and watched him, ‘i think you are beautiful and i know you’re good, tom’

‘i hope so’

‘now you know what kind of drunk i am but i have no idea about you’ you let your thoughts out and he smiled, ‘it depends actually. i’m mostly a sad drunk but a silent one’

‘but what kind of drunk are you right now?’

he licked his lips before staring into your eyes, ‘the kind of drunk that wants to kiss you so much’

‘oh, i thought i was family’ you looked at him innocently but he noticed the teasing in your voice, ‘you know, there’s another way to be a family’

‘stop there, shelby. you can’t propose me before i know if you can kiss me properly’ he smiled and moved on the bed, resting on top of you, ‘i’ll kiss you now, y/n. and one day i’m going to propose you’

[chaseatinydream]

pabo || c.s (atz)

➵ PAIRING: reader x choi san (ateez)

➵ WORD COUNT: 5778

➵ GENRE: fluff, mildly suggestive if you squint

➵ SYNOPSIS:  hongjoong tries his best, but in the end, san’s still a big pabo, and still the man you fell in love with.

>>>

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, hyung. The ambiance is perfect, Seonghwa-hyung is putting the second batch of popcorn in the microwave, and we have successfully hacked into Mingi’s Netflix account.” Yeosang reports as he steps into his leader’s bedroom, carrying two bowls of popcorn, one salted and one caramel. Hongjoong grabs the two bowls as fast as he can and proceeds to remove every last unpopped kernel from the bowl at the speed of light, determination burning in his eyes; none shall escape him.

“Yah, you didn’t hack it, you and Yunho just tickled me till gave the password to you!” Mingi blusters in protest from the hallway, cheeks tinged red as Hongjoong’s attention continues to be completely riveted on assaulting the popcorn, a small hill of unpopped kernels growing next to him. Yeosang raises an eyebrow at the younger member, thoroughly amused.

“It’s alright, you know we don’t judge what you watch, Mingi.” He says matter of factly, but the way Mingi’s face turns fire engine red in a matter of seconds shows that he doesn’t believe that one bit. Hongjoong pauses in the process of sorting out the popcorn, looking up slowly at his member to quirk an eyebrow. “...What exactly is Mingi watching?”

Yeosang opens his mouth to answer, but Mingi beats him to it, rushing in with a “I am a mature man who can watch anything he wants! I have no shame, but you cannot intrude upon my privacy like this, it is my personal tastes and I can enjoy appropriate and deeply emotional shows for my age-”

“He was binge watching all seven seasons of My Little Pony on Netflix. Completely valid, by the way.” Yeosang cuts in with a shrug, popping a caramel popcorn into his mouth. “Friendship is magic.”

Hongjoong keeps the tiny snicker in his mouth as he sifts through the bowl with his fingertips, checking for anymore miscreants that have managed to escape his eye. The deep voiced rapper groans, buries his face in Hongjoong’s minion plush, ears clearly turning bright pink. “I… I have no shame…"

“Sure, Mingi.”

“Anyways, Yeosang,” Hongjoong turns to the vocalist leaning against the door frame, “have you contacted… you know who yet? Are San and Wooyoung back from snack shopping? How long more do we have left?”

“Daddy’s home!” San’s voice rings out through the dorm and Yeosang barely manages to repress a snort. “Snacks!” Mingi cheers, rushing outside and nearly tripping over the popcorn bowl (“Mingi!” Hongjoong screams in alarm) in his haste. The leader breathes a sigh of relief when the popcorn escapes unscathed, holding it close like it’s his firstborn child, “Ohhh, thank God…”

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Yeosang comments as the noise of Wooyoung and Yunho squabbling over dominance of the remote drifts into the room. Hongjoong lets out a long suffering sigh, eyes closing with all the burdens he has endured.

“The two of them have been dancing around each other for as long as I can remember,” He groans in exasperation, dragging a hand across his face. “At first it was funny watching San-ie being an idiot, but now it’s just sad and depressing.”

Yeosang hides a laugh behind a polite cough as his leader continues to rant so fast he sounds like he’s practicing a new rap. “I swear to god, every time I see the two of in this awkward I clearly like you and am trying to flirt with you but you have the emotional awareness the size of a teaspoon so I think you just see me as a friend nonsense I just... I just feel myself slowly dying on the inside. He comes to me all the time to talk to me about you know who and he practices confessing to me without ever trying it himself in the first place and if I hear one more word about how he thinks they’re just friends I am going to kill him in sleep.” An amused smile grows on one corner of Yeosang’s mouth. “It physically hurts. It takes a mental toll on me. It’s like acid eating away at me. It’s like being struck by lightning repeatedly in the face. And if it goes on for another day I am going to scream.” He finally takes a deep breath, fanning his cheeks when he realises he’s run out of breath. “Wow. That was emotional. I should turn those into some song lyrics for our next comeback.”

The younger vocalist snickers and there’s a crash outside, the sound of the couch falling over, and Seonghwa’s horrified shout of “you pabos!” from the kitchen. “It’ll be fun to see how this turns out, at the very least.” He says as Hongjoong rises to his feet, carrying the bowls of popcorn with him. Before he turns to leave the room, he pauses to tell Hongjoong, “you do know, when you were sorting through the popcorn, you ended up mixing them in the same bowl, right?”

Hongjoong frowns deeply at the bowl for a second as Yeosang heads for the chaos of the living room, studying the contents. Then realisation dawns on his face, and he groans, fighting the urge to smack his forehead into the wall. “I’m such an idiot.”

“I agree!” Yeosang calls from the hallway, and Hongjoong gives a good natured roll of the eyes before moving to join his members outside, salty caramel popcorn and all.

He’s going to make everything perfect down to the last cushion they sit on, play winged cupid for the two of them and hopefully, tonight is the night the torture will end. And maybe at their wedding, he’ll get to be the best man and San will give a long speech about how he everything to Hongjoong for the start of their beautiful love story.

Well, confessing was just the first step.

>>>

The ambiance is not perfect.

Yunho and Mingi are squabbling over the movie choices, Mingi trying to avoid every horror movie on the streaming site (which is impossible, considering that all the movies showing in the month of October are horror movies) while Yunho jumps around dangerously on the sofa with the remote in hand, likely the beginning of their very own Final Destination movie.

“You know,” Hongjoong remarks mildly as he stares at the massive orange thing sitting innocently on the floor of their dorm, “when I said to get a few snacks to get the mood up, I didn’t mean to buy a whole… pumpkin.”

“What other snack is better for the month of Halloween than a pumpkin?” San crows, raising his hand to give Wooyoung a cheeky high-five. Seonghwa stands at the doorway of the kitchen, fingers pressed to his temples in an attempt to face reality, while Hongjoong lets out a pained sigh before he knows what he’s doing. Stumbling to sit at the dining table, he puts his head into his hands with only one very clear thought in mind; San is clearly the villain of his own love story.

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong says, disappointment dripping from every syllable. “You let San buy a pumpkin.”

“Yep! Oh, come on, it can’t be that terrible. Seonghwa-hyung can always make pumpkin soup or something some other day. It’s not that important.” The energetic dancer waves it off with a mischievous grin, until he sees the desperate, dark glow practically emanating off his leader in waves and a bead of cold sweat runs down his back, survival instinct setting off a thousand screeching sirens in his head.

“Tonight needs to be perfect.” Hongjoong stresses the last syllable with so much emphasis that Wooyoung squeaks, involuntarily moving to take a step behind San (as if he’ll be able to protect Wooyoung from Hongjoong in his demon wrath). Then a switch clicks in his mind, it comes to him and his mouth falls open in horror. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, no.” Hongjoong seethes in reply, inconsolable, Wooyoung shrinking back from his leader’s glare. Yeosang simply sighs and shrugs, disappointed but not exactly surprised, Yunho and Mingi even pausing in their little wrestle match to wince simultaneously.

San glances quizzically between the two of them in confusion when he finally catches on that there are some underlying ideas that aren’t being made privy to him.

“What’s going on-” San begins to say, but suddenly there’s a ring of the doorbell and everyone freezes, the remote dropping from Yunho’s hand to knock painfully into Mingi’s nose.

Hongjoong lets out a little, pained noise and slams his face into the table top.

“Were we expecting anyone? All of us are here, aren’t we?” San asks, doing a headcount and not seeming to notice that everyone is glued to the floor, frozen in place like badly arranged shop window mannequins. “Is it Manager-hyung? I’ll go get the door.”

“It’s ruined.” He hears Hongjoong groan as he steps over to open the door, simply frowns. Their manager won’t scold them for messing up the apartment just a little, will he? There isn’t such a big deal.

He opens the door.

Oh.

Then a few more neurons fire weakly and die. Shit.

“Hi, Hongjoong, I’m sorry I got your message late and was in a little bit of a rush coming here, have you guys started without me already?” You’re standing outside the door rummaging through your bag, looking for something, damp hair tossed back by the cold autumn wind just how he likes it and smelling of the city, dressed in a soft peach sweater that used to be his and earrings that he bought you last Christmas.

“It’s you.” San manages to croak out, he sounds like a dying frog, onstage devil, smooth as butter, offstage idiot, walking disaster, he reprimands himself belatedly, staring at you while his mind screams at him in thirty different languages that include Orcish and Latin and runs in tiny circles around his brain. You aren’t supposed to be here.

You continue to look up at him, smiling warmly, prettily with cheeks flushed peach pink that matches the sweater, his sweater, from the rush to their dorm and he simply gapes back, because his mind is not cooperating, motor functions are shutting down without his permission and he is losing all executive command.

“Uhm…” You begin softly and he snaps to attention, looking around frenziedly while you’ve clearly been standing in front of him the entire time and haven’t moved an inch, he hears Hongjoong let out an agonized groan behind him. “Are you going to let me in, Sanshine?”

It’s that nickname again, and christ, he can’t deal with how cute you are-

“Oh my god, get out of the doorway.” A hand latches hard onto the back of his shirt and drags him away, Hongjoong turning to greet you with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi! Glad you could make it in time, and I’m sorry for the last minute invite too. Come in! The guys are excited to see you!”

“Thank you!” You chirp, stepping in, and the only thing San can think of is ‘they all knew you were coming except for him?’

“Hey!” There’s a chorus of welcomes as you step into the dorm, waving at all of them merrily until you spot the massive pumpkin just sitting in the middle of the dorm, a little bruised on one side from where Mingi had kicked it accidentally in his battle for the remote. “What is that doing here?”

Hongjoong turns his best smile-glare on Wooyoung and the dancer nearly cowers behind Seonghwa. The eldest shows no sympathy, though, and simply pushes Wooyoung out again to face the full brunt of Hongjoong’s wrath.

“I bought it…” Wooyoung squeaks as Hongjoong’s eyes continue to burn the back of his head to cinders. You pause for a moment, observing the large vegetable, before letting out a sweet laugh and smiling at Wooyoung. “You’re funny. That’s a really cute thing to do during Halloween!”

San sputters something unintelligible and Wooyoung grins bashfully, scratching the back of his head as Hongjoong thanks his lucky stars. Atmosphere, check! Level one, clear! Mission, success! This feels like it’s going to be one of their variety shows at this rate, while San’s secret goal is to sabotage the mission… except that his possible happiness and future is the mission.

“So, let’s start the movie!” Yunho announces and it finally dawns on San what you’re here to do. “Wait… you mean you are joining us for the horror movie marathon?”

Hongjoong’s mind screams in raw, physical pain.

You balk a little at the words that leaves San’s mouth, eyes becoming a little downcast. “Oh… I’m sorry. Do you not want me here? I know it’s been your yearly tradition, but Hongjoong invited me, so I thought…” Your voice trails off, and an awkward silence descends upon the two of you, every other member in the living room either having a heart attack or screaming because is San trying to ruin things for himself?

“Ah, no, no, no, that’s not what I meant!” San’s mind backpedals frantically, he’s not going to be able to concentrate on any movie while you’re there, but he doesn’t know how to say it, doesn’t think it’ll be appropriate and oh-my-god you just see him as a friend and that’s inappropriate for friends to say and-

“Ha ha ha!” Seonghwa lets out the fakest, most awkward, high pitched laugh you’ve ever heard from him and drags San away by the ear before he can spew anything more stupid from that mouth. “Just ignore San, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, he’s a little silly sometimes, you know!”

Both you and San start at the way Seonghwa is practically insulting the man to his face, but Jongho choruses in from where he’s laying out pillows and an air mattress. “Yeah, hyung’s just a big pabo, so don’t listen to him!” “We’re glad to have you here!” Mingi adds, trying to make a swipe for the remote but misses.

“Pabo?” San pipes up indignantly, squaring up and ready to throttle the younger vocalist (which would probably be a big mistake), but Hongjoong clamps a hand around San’s head and suffocates him before he can say another word. Seonghwa gestures you to a seat on the sofa, talking to you about your day at work and you reply brightly. He’s put out more fires than a veteran fireman tonight, Hongjoong pats himself on the back encouragingly as he drags San to the kitchen to help take out the popcorn, and for the next part of the mission to commence.

>>>

San’s still rubbing his ear ruefully when he steps out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand, sending half-hearted glares in Hongjoong’s direction every once in a while. Wooyoung has turned down the living room lights and everyone is gathered in front of the television, Mingi squeaking in fright every time a clown or child’s face looms up on the recommended list Yunho is currently scrolling through.

“Ahh, you guys are back!” Yeosang says cheerfully, much too cheerfully, to San’s suspicion. “Here, we saved seats for you.”

Faster than San can blink, Hongjoong is diving onto the air mattress with a whoop, shouting “I claim dibs!” and effectively drawing a cry of pained protest from Wooyoung who was already lying on the matress. Sighing, San looks around for another available seat and sees only one left.

Next to you, on the couch, with barely enough space left for half of him, let alone all of him. He’ll be all pressed up against you, soft and warm next to him, and no. Running a hand through dark hair as he tries to plot out his next course of action that won’t leave him a bumbling idiot in front of you, he’s resigned to sitting on the floor when Hongjoong pipes up.

“There’s a seat on the couch.”

San frowns. “There is?”

Hongjoong’s eyes are almost luminous in the dark with the intensity of his gaze. “There. Is. Room. On. The. Couch.”

A shiver goes down San’s spine at the uncharacteristically terrifying stare. “Yes sir.” But you wave your hands, clearly apologetic, shaking your head as you rise to stand. “Oh no, it’s alright, I can sit on the floor if there’s no space.”

“No!” Both Hongjoong and San rush to stop you immediately, the latter sliding in next to you on the couch, honestly, it’s too tight of a squeeze and there are a myriad of nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach that feel more like a hive of angry bees. There isn’t enough space for his upper body to fit comfortably, so he raises one arm around your shoulder, not quite touching awkwardly because the two of you are just friends and it’s not appropriate-

Yeosang buries his face in his hands. Part Two of Mission Pabo was not going well.

“Is this okay?” San grunts uncomfortably as he shimmies in next to you, trying to find the most comfortable position he can in the limited space. You look up at him in worry and suddenly your eyes, soft and dark in the faint light of the room. “Yeah, I’m fine, but isn’t this uncomfortable for you?” You shift next to him and San gasps at the feeling of your hand brushing against the bare skin of his torso where his shirt has ridden up just a little, but it’s like a jolt of electricity running through his veins. He jerks away on instinct, but in doing so, the hand around your shoulder smacks into your cheek and you yelp in pain.

San is about ready to jump out of the closest window to save himself the embarassment, but then he remembers that they’re on the first floor and he wishes desperately for the floor to just open up and swallow him whole (swallow him hole, ha).

“Are you alright?” Hongjoong rushes to ask in concern, fingertips gently brushing your cheek as he checks the area and San screams internally. “I’m so sorry, San is a bit of a pabo so please forgive him! He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Yeosang slumps against the wall with a soft cry of secondhand embarrassment and Mingi pats his head comfortingly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You reassure Hongjoong and turn to beam at San warmly, his heart stops. “Let’s just start the movie, okay?”

“Okay.” He manages to breathe, and wonders how he’s going to continue doing that for the next few hours with you by his side.

>>>

The movie starts off well, or well, at least well as the chaotic eight of them could get. Wooyoung shouts and throws chocolates at the leads of Conjuring for making bad life decisions, while Mingi’s so terrified of every childlike image after Annabelle that he screams when Boss Baby appears in the recommended. San’s so enraptured in watching Final Destination that he doesn’t seem to notice that his arm is slipping down, resting partially on the couch behind you and your shoulder. Content, you simply snuggle quietly into his side, screaming when Mingi screams and looking up at San shyly when he lets out little chuckles, amused at your antics, handsome face illuminated by the light of the next ghost.

When the reindeer monster in The Ritual impales another camper through a tree, you squeak and turn your face away from the movie, but the only thing there is the crook of San’s neck, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the warm skin there. There’s a hitch of breath, a soft gasp drawn through parted lips, and his pulse hammers furiously against the tip of your nose, but that’s because of the movie, right? Not because… not because he thinks that…

A negative little feeling pokes its way into your chest and you find yourself drawing your face from San’s neck, slightly melancholy. As if he’s attuned to your emotions, San frowns, turns to look at you with concerned eyes, but before he can say a word, you rise to your feet.

“I think I’m gonna go get some snacks.” You announce suddenly, stepping over a confused Jongho and Seonghwa to get to the kitchen. Hongjoong is on the verge of tears. “San, what did you do?” He whisper-yells the second you leave the room, and San fumbles to save his ear before Hongjoong can pull it off. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, maybe you should have done something, then!”

“Huh?”

“I think I’ll go to the kitchen and get some snacks too, I’m terrified…” Mingi whimpers as shadows move across the tent before hands rip through the cloth and drag a screaming camper out by the ankles. Hongjoong tosses a pillow at Mingi’s face.

“You. Are. Not. Scared.” Hongjoong says so dangerously Mingi ponders which is scarier for a second, then decides it’s obviously his leader. He shrinks back under the blanket, eyes peeking out over the edge and this time Yeosang pats him on the head sympathetically. Then their leader turns to San, eyes burning with intensity. “San, how about you go help get the snacks?”

San’s confused. “But I’m not scared and I want to watch the movie-”

“Go.”

San immediately scrambles off the couch and heads for the kitchen as fast as he can, hightailing out of living room before Hongjoong can strangle him again. Sliding the door open, he steps into the kitchen silently, closing it behind him, wondering why tonight has been such a strange night.

You’re standing with your back to him, sprinkling some icing sugar over a batch of cookies that you’d brought over. Stepping over to you, he glances over your shoulder, trying to calm the heart pounding in his chest - it’s just the two of you, alone in the kitchen. “Those look good.”

“Jesus Christ, Sanshine, you scared me!” You cry out and jump backwards in fright, back pressing against San’s chest and he reaches out to straighten you by the arms. “I’m sorry!” He apologises, looking over at the mess he’s caused, icing sugar all over the counter and your fingers. “Just give me a second, I’ll-” He raises one of your hands to his lips, tongue darting out to lick the sweetness off your hands. Maybe he’s just too absorbed in his task and doesn’t hear the little whimper you let out, but his mouth dips over your fingers, dragging his teeth lightly across the skin there and sucking lightly on the tips before letting you go with a satisfied smile, swiping bubblegum pink over his lips. “There, all clean!”

The two of you stare at each other for approximately another ten seconds, you with your mouth hanging wide open, San still proud of himself for clearing up the mess until his brain catches up with what he’s just done, and how very inappropriate for friends it is.

San barely manages to hold in his scream just as a round of horrified high pitched shouts come from the living room, they reflect the state his mind is in all too well. He’s screwed things up, and now there will be no more relationship, let alone friendship, and-

After several deep breaths and near heart attacks, he manages to breathe, unable to look you in the eye. “Well… how about we just…” He drags a breath in, dragging a hand through his hair harshly, “go back out there and forget this ever happened?” The silence continues, and he holds in a little whimper. “Please?”

His plea hangs in the empty silence that stretches between the two of you, and San is convinced that he’s just made the biggest screw up of his life, this friendship is over, that Jongho was right and he is the biggest pabo-

“I don’t want to.”

Huh?

You raise your hand, and there’s a dangerous, playful glint in your eye that he can’t help but feel like he’s going to get burned by. “This is pretty… inappropriate for friends, wouldn’t you say?”

That’s what I’ve been saying this entire night! His subconscious hollers, but San forcibly wrenches him from the mental steering wheel and throws him into the backseat, mind still completely blank and uncomprehending. Nameless speech organs seemed to have lodged themselves in his mouth and throat, and butchering his attempt of a ‘what do you mean’ into a mangled ‘whu- don’t- huh?’

You laugh, a sweet, dangerous chuckle that sends a shiver down his spine and step forward, San unconsciously taking one back, another, another, and another until the small of his back hits the kitchen island and he has nowhere else to escape, but you’re still closing the distance between the two of you, and his heart leaps into his mouth, pulse thundering haywire - this can’t be good for his cardiac health.

Then your arms are coming up to brace themselves on the kitchen counter and he’s trapped, irises blown wide and cheeks flushed as you lean in close, more close than appropriate, completely inappropriate for friends, and there’s a little voice that keeps screaming in his head, he actually might be on the verge of a heart attack, and-

“How about this?” You whisper, and a shudder wrecks his spine, a coy smile that is, too, entirely inappropriate for this situation playing on your lips, his breaths are coming out in short little pants and he doesn’t know what or how to think. “Is this inappropriate for friends too?”

“Very.” He finds himself replying, voice weak, and instantly finds an urge to cover his face in embarrassment, what on earth is he saying? But before he can, one of your hands pins his wrist to the counter next to him with barely any force and he feels his knees go weak, because that’s sexy as hell, and then you’re leaning in, leaning in closer…

The first slide of your lips against his and he forgets how to breathe.

It’s soft, electric, barely there but sends fire and ice racing over his body and his head spins, a soft whine muffled against your lips, you taste like impulse and desire and cherry sweet not friend appropriate intent, and he nearly collapses against the counter, elbows propped against the cool marble surface barely serving to keep him upright.

You pull away, but not far, still close enough to feel his hitching breath tickling your face in little, breathy puffs, watching as he tries to claw the remains of his self control back together. His head has fallen back to expose the underside of his jaw and the hollow of his throat, and while you feel a near irrepressible urge to kiss and taste the skin there, you stave it off, delayed gratification, you promise yourself. His eyelids flutter dazedly, slivers of dark brown flitting between between glancing at you and flinching away, raw emotion pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Oh, he is so beautiful to watch like this.

Your lips meet again, a little deeper this time, and he whispers your name hot against your mouth. When you part your lips just a little to drag the tip of your tongue across his bruised lower lip, he keens, melting against you and you press him against the kitchen island with your hands on his hipbones, “can’t have you fainting on me now, can I?”

And then you’re pulling away, finally, blessedly, regrettably and he manages to crack one eye open, chest still heaving for breath and wondering how he’s still alive as you smile innocently at him, tongue darting out to flick against the corner of your mouth. “There.” You tell him softly, holding his gaze the entire time with some sort of dark intensity lurking beneath the surface, voice somewhere between a purr and a rasp. “All clean.”

His words? Thrown back at him. His mind? Left in shambles? Hotel? Trivago.

He needs to visit a cardiologist tomorrow.

“Clean.” He manages to repeat, voice hoarse, and then you’re grinning so cheerfully that San has whiplash, you take him by the hand and lead him back outside, where everyone is still watching the movie. You slide back onto your seat and pat the space next to you. San sits, a little gingerly, and you shift, so that you’re almost half in his lap, and tuck his arm around your waist, burying your face in the crook of his neck just like you were earlier. His pulse picks up again, fluttering against your cheek and you smile, letting your eyes squeeze close, feeling happier than you have for the first time in months.

Silently, San draws you in, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he pulls you closer, plants a soft kiss on your temple and leans his cheek against the top of your head, closing his eyes as the last camper finally escapes the forest.

From the air mattress, Wooyoung and Hongjoong fist bump and do a dab.

>>>

He’s awoken by a clicking sound.

“I’m keeping these forever.”

“I’m never going to let this go down. I’m going to write it down, my kids will know about it, my great great grand kids will know about, then I’m going to sell the USB to his kids as blackmail-”

San grunts, batting against the noise as a sleepy haze tries to pull him back under, there’s an abrupt silence and then furious whispering. Unfortunately, San is far too removed from dreamland to return to sleep now and stretches his back, or rather, attempts to.

He realises he can’t properly feel his legs and blinks his eyes open sleepily, trying to spot the reason for his discomfort and seeing oh-

You’re curled up in his lap and against his chest, each soft breath puffing against his neck and hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Even though he probably really should get you to move before he loses all feeling in his legs, he’s loathe to do so, instead staring down at you with unreadable eyes, chest tightening.

“Rise and shine!” Hongjoong yawns, looking bright and cheery, which is… unsettling to say the least. He taps you on the shoulder and you grumble, still soft and sleepy and so adorable that San swears there are flowers growing in his heart, burying your face in his neck as if that would hide you from the rest of the world.

Rest of the world.

San looks up and sees the rest of his members already wide awake and staring expectantly at him, minus Yunho who is still completely crashed on the air mattress. That doesn’t make things a lot better. He feels his cheeks burning in an instant and Wooyoung lets out a seal like laugh, San picks up a minion plush and tosses it at his best friend while Hongjoong rushes to save it.

“Hey.” He grabs your wrist and tugs gently, and you finally sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. Oh, he thinks. Damn, he adds. He’s whipped.

“We didn’t mean to wake you up, but you should be getting home before peak hour.” Yeosang supplies helpfully, and San can’t help but mourn a little for the loss of your weight on his thigh, even though his legs are crying for joy. You nod, grab your things and head for the door, Hongjoong gives San a stern stare. “San, show her out.”

San doesn’t protest this time, moving over to the door where you’re slipping on your shoes and patting down your hair, he leans against the door frame and simply looks, watches until he can bring the words to pass his lips.

“So…” San begins, and you glance up at him curiously. “I.... I wanted to say that… to ask if… we could be...”

More, his heart and mind chorus. Inappropriate, another part of him adds with a gleeful little chuckle, and he claps that bit into the dustbin and slams the lid on top.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Hongjoong storms over and San glances over in confusion at his tiny leader near bursting with rage, but Hongjoong grabs San by the shoulders, spins him to face you squarely and shakes him a little. “Spit it out, San! I’ve heard it a thousand and one times already, so it should be easy for you to recite by now, shouldn’t it?”

San gapes in horror. “I-”

You laugh. “It’s okay, Hong, I think I already know what he wants to say.” Hongjoong blinks in confusion, but you turn to San, smile radiantly and lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips, they still taste like sugar. San merely stands there, frozen as a petrified tree as you step back and wave, to the rest of the boys in the room. “Bye, guys! Bye, Yunho! Thanks, Seonghwa!” The oldest salutes, his other hand pressed firmly across the maknae’s eyes as he complains and struggles to get out of his grasp.

Then you’re gone.

Hongjoong waits a whole minute for San to react as Seonghwa and Jongho squabble in the back, and when San doesn’t, still staring blankly out of the door, he moves forward to tap San on the shoulder. “Um… San-ah? You okay there? Did we break your brain or anything?”

San turns around slowly, a befuddled expression on his face as he glances up to look at his leader, blinking slowly, fingertips pressed to his lips in amazement.

“But Hongjoong-hyung… that was completely inappropriate for friends…”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong scream.

>>>

Some time ago…

“Mission Pabo Part Three: Surveillance, begin!” Hongjoong whispers the second San disappears into the kitchen and Wooyoung immediately drags a tablet out from under the air mattress, placing it on the couch as the rest of the members crowd around it, Mingi excluded, who’s still too terrified to expose himself to the evil spirits held at bay by his blanket. Yeosang fiddles with the buttons on the app, scrolling through channels as the rest hiss at him to hurry up.

“Shh! I’m trying.” Yeosang whispers back huffily, tapping on several tabs and channels. Jongho shifts closer to the screen, trying to see the feed over Seonghwa’s shoulder, who’s a few inches from losing balance and frowns. Honestly, did his hyungs think this kind of stupid strategy would work? “Kitchen… kitchen… there it is!”

Immediately his hyungs scream, Yeosang very nearly tossing the whole tablet into the air. Jongho makes a face of disgust and moves to pick up the fallen device, but before he can take another step, Seonghwa pounces right on him, shoving a pillow over his face as he screeches for Wooyoung to turn the damned thing off.

Jongho never finds out what happened in that kitchen.

[robin-the-enby]

If you’re taking requests right now could you do a Sweeney Todd one shot or scenario where his s/o convinces him to give them a haircut? Tysm 🖤

A new haircut

Pairing: Sweeney Todd x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: murderous thoughts (I mean, what did you expect)

A/N: You have no idea how excited I am for this. I hope I did it right and that our dear barber isn’t too ooc. I refered to the reader as they/them (because of how the ask was frazed), if you want me to change it, just say so, I have no problems with that ^ ^

* * * * *

     It was a silent, cloudy morning in London. The sky was gray, gray like his razors. Sweeney sat on a chair which he put next to the window in his barbershop and polished his beloved helpers, the only reminder of who he used to be. He hated everything. The gray sky, the smoke, the rich and the poor, yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate his razors. Just like he couldn’t bring himself to hate Y/N.

    Sweeney held the razor he just finished polishing against the faint light coming into the room. Gray and glum like the sky above, yet so different. His metal companion shone like a star, a very dangerous one. Their smile shone too, he thought, but it was far from dangerous. Their smile was more...carefree and joyful, sometimes he wondered if they truly were that naïve or if they were lying to themselves, always so happy and bubbly.

    He could never bring himself to ask, seeing their smile was somewhat refreshing from all those indifferent faces he saw every day. That’s why he still kept them around he supposed. Surely there couldn’t be a different reason.

    So engrossed in his thoughts he was that he didn’t hear the familiar footsteps approaching his barbershop, only the sound of knocking, gentle and patient, broke his train of thought. Sweeney looked up from his work and rose to open the door to whoever was on the other side.

    Talk of the devil and he shall appear. Y/N stood outside his barbershop with a smile on their face. With a slight wave they greeted him “Good morning mr. Todd! Can I come in?”

    Sweeney nodded in response to their energetic greeting and stepped aside to let Y/N in. Closing the door he turned to look at them, awaiting the reason for their sudden visit.

    But Y/N was looking out of the window with their back turned to him “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?” they muttered absent mindedly, Sweeney had to step closer to hear them. Looking out of the window at the still gray sky from behind their shoulder, he answered truthfully “Not really.”

    His sudden closeness seemed to startle them and Y/N jumped a little. Trying to nervously laugh it off they shrugged “Well, I think yesterday’s rain cleared out the air quite nicely.”

    Sweeney didn’t reply to that, instead he stepped next to them and asked, not particularly fond of small talk “May I know the reason behind your sudden visit?” Y/N stepped back from the window “Well, I was on my way to the market, so I said hi to Nellie and I thought that if I’m already here, why not come and say hi to you as well. It surely must get lonely here.” they said with nonchalance that sounded way too forced.

    Y/N wasn’t one to lie, unlike most people he encountered, why would they lie now? With a deep frown on his face he closed the short distance between the two of them with only a few steps. Looking Y/N deep in the eyes he nothing but hissed “Don’t lie.”

    Worried, Y/N took a step back from him, their demeanor suddenly shy. They sighed and with apologetic eyes said “Forgive me. In my defense, it wasn’t a complete lie! I really was just saying hi to Nellie and...” they seemed to hesitate “I hear so much praise left and right from men who have been to your barbershop, so...I was wondering if you could give me a haircut!” Y/N rushed out the last bit.

    The air grew silent around them and for a moment it looked Sweeney was actually taken aback by the request. Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, Y/N quickly added “Of course, I don’t expect you to do anything for free! I’ll pay you, like any other customer would. I just thought...Well, we’ve known each other for quite some time now and...”

    It was clear to him that Y/N was getting lost in their unnecessary rant. If seeing them in joy was refreshing to Sweeney, seeing them nervous and coy was downright amusing. Although women weren’t his usual customers, seeing as killing a woman was different from killing a man and he had a target after all, not to mention how much they liked to talk, it didn’t mean he could not use his skills on them.

    Pushing lightly on their shoulders, Sweeney directed Y/N into the barber chair. Keeping a neutral expression on his face, like usual, he couldn’t help but feel an odd rush of excitement at seeing them so stiff in a place where he murdered so many men. They weren’t scared of him, he didn’t give them any reason to be...yet. He imagined they were just nervous about the whole thing.

    It turned out Sweeney’s assumptions were correct. He never really agreed to cutting their Y/N hair, what if he was doing it only to shut them up? It wasn’t like they would ask him about it and he wouldn’t tell them by himself, it would be best to just enjoy it, Y/N decided.

    Not sure where to look, Y/N decided to close their eyes and concentrate on the feeling. First the feeling of a soft plaid being draped over them and the slight cold feeling of it, like walking through a foggy street. Then Sweeney tipped the chair backwards, the sudden movement startling poor Y/N, before they relaxed again. He supported their head on one of his hands, while he pulled their hair from under them and over the chair with his other, then gently placing Y/N’s head back. And then it was just scissors and the occasional tug of a hairbrush.

    Now that Sweeney was this close to Y/N, he noticed certain things about them. For example, how soft their hair felt or how they relaxed in the barber chair completely over time. Something about seeing them in such a relaxed state made him relaxed too and if his movements were even a little stiff, now they were completely fluent.

    Sometimes he had to catch some loose strands of hair and so accidentally brush his hands over Y/N’s exposed neck. Just looking at it, craned into his touch, felt so enticing. How easy would it be to plunge those scissors into the soft flesh, see the blood gush out, and their wide eyes and helpless gasps leaving their mouth until it would fill with the red essence to the brim.

    It would all look lovely, but there wasn’t the satisfaction he felt while envisioning killing his other customers or the judge himself. The death of Y/N would be just a mess, without a reason, without passion and if he’d kill just for his belief that all people deserve to die, he wouldn’t be any better than any drunken aggressor. He was better than that.

    Y/N wasn’t sure if they dosed off, but when Sweeney’s touch disappeared, taking the snipping of scissors with it, it felt like rising from a dream. They opened their eyes just as Sweeney pulled the plaid from their frame and proceeded to straighten the chair once more.

    Y/N stood up and smoothed down their clothes. Clearing their throat, they asked “So, how much do I owe you?” Without actually looking at them, Sweeney made his way around them to put his tools on a table at the wall behind the barber chair “It’s nothing. I just trimmed your hair, since you never told me what you wanted me to do.” Y/N had to admit that they kind of got lost in the moment.

    Deciding on a rather bold decision, they approached him and placed a quick peck on the barber’s cheek “Thank you mr. Todd!” they said with their usual cheerful attitude and made a beeline towards the door, fearing that if they stayed just a while longer, he’d throw a razor at them or something, judging by the expression on his face.

    Minutes went by and Sweeney still stared at the door, unblinking, unmoving. He didn’t know how to feel about the payment he received, but the new sides he got to see of Y/N were definitely enough for him to keep around. Seeing them so nervous was definitely amusing, to say the least.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

I'm a little nervous about starting my new job tomorrow... do your tarot cards have any advice or insight to offer on what's to come?

🎶 "Now, since this is clearly a time-sensitive question, I'll let you skip the line to get an answer first! That's just how nice I am! Not nice enough to answer it yesterday when you asked, but better late than never, right?

🎶 "Let's do a simple three-card spread, shall we? Opportunities, obstacles, and outcomes!"

❌ He shuffled, laid out three cards, fumbled his deck on the table, and when he got the cards picked up I think he accidentally switched out two of the cards.

🎶 "I'm sure the cards wanted me to do that."

1. Opportunities: Devil's Food Cake

🎶 "The biggest benefit you're going to get from this job is free food. Personally, I'd read this as 'the quantity and quality of food you'll get at this workplace will be astonishing' rather than 'the job is so terrible the only part of it you can enjoy is the occasional potluck,' but Devil's Food Cake has always been an incredibly positive card for me! You'll know best whether or not that holds true for you."

2. Obstacles: Earthlight (reversed)

🎶 "Typically, I don't read reversals! If the cards can't say whatever they want to say while standing upright, are they going to be any better at communicating while standing on their heads? I don't think so! But when the deck is literally leaping out of my hands, who am I to argue? So all right, fine, we'll do it the deck's way."

🎶 "Earthlight represents the influence of other afterlives on your day-to-day goings-on in Hell. Sometimes this influence can be as literal as an angelic attack, sometimes it's as abstract as the memory of an ancestor you know ended up somewhere else. On rare occasions it can actually refer to Earth—specifically, something about Earth that you know will always remain remote from Hell, such as the physical geography or some aspects of premortem culture. Now, Earthlight reversed? Hell if I know. I've never gotten Earthlight reversed before. If I had to hazard a guess, maybe it refers to Hell's influence on other afterlives? Or maybe other Hellish circles' influences on Pride? But I've got a card for that... somewhere..."

❌ He started rifling through his cards.

❌ He's been going through them for several minutes now.

🎶 "... Nope! I lost that one! All right, maybe Earthlight reversed is standing in for that one! Your obstacles are coming from other planes of Hell! I'd watch out for native demons, either coworkers or customers, because whatever's going to give you the most trouble is coming from one of the other rings. Metaphorically, it might also refer to a threat from another branch of the business, if where you work has more than one offices or locations!"

3. Outcomes: The Pirate King (reversed)

🎶 "Have you ever watched The Pirates of Penzance? I recommend it, it's very funny! I think you'd get more out of this card if you watched Pirates first. But anyway! The Pirate King is a dualistic figure. On the one hand, he represents the 'noble sinner,' that darling of fiction who's been damned for committing lesser evils on behalf of greater goods, or maybe only commits sins that most humans would think aren't really so bad, or perhaps has simply committed the softest, gentlest form of any given sin. On the other hand, he represents the self-righteous sinner who has justifications to excuse all his wrongdoings—typically not the 'I was just following orders' variety, since usually he's giving the orders, but more often than not his sins are systematic, and so he thinks excusable. Just like when dealing with real sinners whining about how they don't belong in Hell, it's difficult to tell when The Pirate King represents the unjustly judged versus the complicit in corruption. Sometimes the interpretation hinges entirely upon whether The Pirate King is currently being viewed as an insider or an outsider. But in this context, with the card reversed, I'd bet you should go with the 'complicit in corruption' reading."

🎶 "And so here's what I think: play your cards right, and you're in for a promotion! Congratulations! You only have to sell out to whatever obstacle is looming. Depending on how strong your moral compass is, it might not be very emotionally fulfilling, but it should be lucrative! Whether you take that promotional opportunity or stand your ground and end up the company pariah is entirely dependent upon how deeply you want to enmesh yourself in company culture. The choice is yours!"

🎶 "I think you'll still get to enjoy the free food either way, so that's something to look forward to."

[frogsandcookies]

Hellfire

Who ordered a Hunchback of Notre Dame au for Sanders Sides? 

Anyways, this is a song fic Hellfire from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Logan is Frollo in this, Patton is Esmeralda, Virgil is Quasimodo, and Roman is Phoebus (the latter two are barely mentioned)

Warning: Minor NSFW themes(nothing explicit so don’t worry but Logan does talk about lust), Violence, Mention of death, A lot of religious stuff (Talking about hell and such)

***Edited on 3-28-21 to remove a offensive word from the writing, I apologize for using it in the original, I wasn’t aware that it was a slur. 

___

Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti Beatae Mariae semper Virgini Beato Michaeli archangelo Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis

The sound of the congregation’s singing bounced off of the towering stone halls, echoing throughout the magnificent cathedral and the surrounding city area. It was haunting, both beautiful and terrifying though the townsfolk paid no attention to it, used to the sound by now. The usually bustling city was quiet and dark, except for one house. Logan Frollo’s manor.

The stone faced man was standing on his balcony that looked over the whole city, his hands clamped tightly on the marble railing. His knuckles were a ghostly white and his teeth clenched together tightly. The deafening cathedral bells began to ring and his eyes snapped to the Notre Dame.

“Damned bells.” He muttered before releasing the thoroughly strangled railing and turning quickly on his heel. His robe swept elegantly behind him following his spin, the wind blowing it back as he strided into his home. Just as the bells ceased their ringing, Logan slammed the mahogany doors to his balcony, his face bearing an wrathful expression.

He was restless, clenching and unclenching his hands as he thought about the events that had occurred the past couple of days.

Logan suddenly stopped and his eyes flicked up to the tall portrait of the Virgin Mary which hung above the grand stone fireplace where a crackling fire was lit. Its eyes seemed to watch his every movement and looked into his soul, reading what he was thinking.

Beata Maria

You know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud

“Beata Maria, Saint Mary, why must you look at me so? You have seen from my actions that I am indeed a righteous man who strives for perfection in the citizens of Paris.” Logan said, looking up to the painting who’s leering seemed to increase as he continued to speak.

“Although my arrogance may seem unjust, I think that all of the contributions I have made to this growing city speak for themselves; of which my virtue I am justly proud. Not many can say they helped exterminate the infestation of travelers that roam about our glorious city, corrupting the weak willed citizens.” Logan added, his tone sounding a bit desperate as he pleaded to the painting.

Beata Maria

You know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

“The citizens who make up our City of Light are vulgar and common yet I strive to help them reach salvation. Those fools in the Notre Dame do the devil’s work, protecting those wanderers and that freak of a child who I graciously raised.” Logan spat, his anger flaring.

“When I reach Heaven’s pearly gates those weak fools will claw at my feet.” He murmured.

Then tell me, Maria

Why I see him dancing there

Why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul

There was a jingle of bells and Logan spun around, his glasses nearly falling off of his face as he looked for the source of the all too familiar sound.

“Who’s there?” He called, his hand flitting to his pocket where a silken blue scarf was housed. No one answered his call and Logan yelled once again,”Come out you vile boy!”

Only the crackling of the fire answered him  and Logan turned back around. He ignored the painting’s judging stare as he pulled out the delicate scarf, his hands shaking slightly as he caressed it.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about that witch?!” He muttered angrily. The fire crepitated in response and Logan looked into the red orange flames.

I feel him, I see him

The sun caught in his glowing hair

Is blazing in me out of all control

The dancing of the flames brought his thoughts back to the festival. Where he had met him. The man who had somehow wormed his way into Logan’s cold heart.

The boy had shoulder length caramel locks that seemed to float while he danced on the stage, a tambourine in one hand and a scarf in another. The image of him dancing and wrapping the scarf around Logan’s neck had forever been burned into his mind, no matter how hard he attempted to rid it from his brain.

He still felt disgust towards the younger male but accompanying it was a new feeling as well.

Like fire

Hellfire

This fire in my skin

This burning

Desire

Is turning me to sin

It was lust. One of the seven deadly sins that the Lord had preached not to commit unless he wanted to be damned to the fiery pits of hell.

And yet, there it was. His skin burned and a pit of fire replaced his soul. This feeling was new. Logan had dedicated himself to the church, working to eliminate the sin and the sinners accompanying it from the world. While his methods were questionable to most, he saw them as the best course of action and so he went forward, destroying homes and imprisoning countless travelers to the city.

Destroying the nomads had always been his mission; it was as though he had been birthed to do it. He never had time to take his turn with romance, always caught up in his work and never meeting anyone who caught his eye.

Until the festival. The event that had spurred an emotion in him that he had never felt before.

It's not my fault

I'm not to blame

It is the g**** boy

The witch who sent this flame

Logan snapped out of his thoughts and looked back up to the painting who’s stare was cold, much like his own.

“It’s not my fault!” He snapped before saying,”It’s that beastly dancing boy’s fault! He cursed me, got me trapped in his ungodly spell! He was the one to light this fire inside me, I am innocent!”

The fire seemed to roar at this and Logan stopped back, still gripping the scarf tightly in his hands.

It's not my fault

If in God's plan

He made the devil so much

Stronger than a man

“Maria why must I be at fault?! God created me with the intention of tempting me with this sin! But also made the devil to overpower me and damn me to hell!” Logan yelled.

“I am not to blame for this sin, the devil has come and planted this seed in my soul, one that I cannot begin to understand nor control! I am a man of God and yet he still tries to damn me! If in his plan to make the Devil stronger, why must I be included! Oh mother Maria!” Logan shrieked, hitting his fist against the cold stone wall as an emphasis for his words.

Protect me, Maria

“Mary, queen of Heaven, protect me from this sin and allow me to continue following the path to salvation!” Logan said, breathing heavily.

Don't let this siren cast his spell

Don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone

The flames continued to dance, showing him more images of the curly haired youth and Logan screamed in rage.

“Don’t let this witch, this siren continue to tempt me! Wipe him from this Earthly plain and let him dance in hell with the devil! His fire, this fire, burns; it scorches my soul and this temptation is ungodly!” He shrieked.

Destroy Patton Fairhope

And let him taste the fires of hell

Or else let him be mine and mine alone

Logan knew that while this might be a sin, he could try and reform the young male, try and redeem his soul. Without his guidance though, there was no hope and the fire within him would not be quenched until the male--Patton-- had met his own kind of fire. The ever burning fires of the underworld.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Logan spun around, shoving the sky blue scarf back into his robe pocket as the door swung open. In the doorway stood an armor clad soldier, his face cast in shadow due to the light being emitted from behind him.

“Minister Frollo. The g**** has escaped.” The soldier said.

Logan froze, rage bubbling up inside of his as he said,”What?”

“He’s nowhere in the cathedral. He’s gone.” The soldier elaborated.

Logan ran a hand through his thinning hair as a wrathful expression wormed its way onto his face and the soldier stepped back nervously.

“But how did…” He paused, collecting himself and dawning a neutral expression which was just as unnerving at the angry one. “Nevermind. Get out you idiot.” He snarled, waving the soldier back as he turned back to the fireplace, the flames reflecting his swirling emotions.

As the guard closed the door, he faced the fire, adding,”I’ll find him if I have to burn down all of Paris.”

Hellfire

Dark fire

“Hellfire. Darkfire. That idiot can run but nothing can match the troops of Paris. If he wants hell, then I shall bring it to him.” Logan snarled, wringing the scarf as he continued to talk.

Now g****, it's your turn

Choose me or

Your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

“If that witch wants to live then he will wisely choose to accept my offer of forgiveness. If he refuses then may he be burned at the stake like all of those other sinners.” Logan said, smirking as he remembered the many others who he had damned to the stake.

“Not everyone is as fortunate to have won my favor. Choose wisely.” He murmured to the scarf before casting it into the flames. The delicate fabric immediately caught flame and the garment was ash within a span of several seconds. Logan looked up the Virgin Mary painting once more, looking smug before turning away.

God have mercy on him

God have mercy on me

“May God be with him as he decides on his fate. And may God be with me and let this boy join me so we can walk the path of salvation together.” Logan said.

But he will be mine

Or he will burn!

“But let there be no doubt. He will be mine or he will burn. And may that foolish captain and that freak burn with him should he choose this path.” Logan said, staring at the Notre Dame through the stained glass windows where the monster he had raised resided.