#my nostrils deceive me

[very-super-silly]

im so sick guys pls send help 🙏

[thyras]

→ dark queen

PAIRING → halbrand (sauron) x f!reader

WORD COUNT → 848 words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - manipulation, fingering, implied previous sexual encounters

SUMMARY → you pledge yourself to the dark lord even if it may cost you your soul.

“Be my queen, little one,” A dark, nebulous smile filled his scruffy face as you watched those green eyes darken slightly. Your heart racing as you knew the truth. The whole truth. Galadriel had tried to warn you off, but you knew you could never. You craved his touch and how his power felt underneath your fingertips. Halbrand was a drug you could never stop seeking, even if it would be your end.

Halbrand placed his fingers underneath your chin, bringing your face back to meet his gaze. You opened your mouth to say something but felt your mouth dry with indecision. He was evil. Darkness incarnate, but you had seen something, even if for a brief time, something that looked like a light in the darkness. It was fleeting, and he kept it locked away mostly, but you saw it in the deepness of the night when he was buried deep inside you. His moans and sweet nothings seeped into you and planted those seeds of darkness you now struggled with.

You were a good person, deceived by the Dark Lord, but you could not help loving Halbrand. His corruption went to your core, making you throb with anticipation. A smile rose on your lips as you bit down on your bottom lip, his brow raised in suspicion as he watched your gaze.

“Little one?” he questioned before you spoke.

“I will be your light in the dark and serve you however you need me to.” That nebulous smile rose again, and you could not help but reach up to caress his stubble. His free hand moved to grasp your wrist and travel down your arm, sending sparks across your skin.

“That is good to hear,” Halbrand leaned in and hovered over your lips; his dark, firey scent filled your nostrils as your eyes closed in anticipation. “My sweet queen,” his warm lips briefly met the skin of your jaw, sending your heart into a frenzy of activity. They traveled down your neck toward the junction of your neck, his fingers still traveling up your arm before wrapping around your neck. A deep moan escaped your lips as your Dark Lord held you in his grasp. The energy around you was dark and seductive as it always was with him. “What do you need from me, my lord,” You breathed as his fingers tightened slightly around your neck. It was enough to restrict some air but sent even more aching to your core.

“I need you, sweet one,” His lips finally met yours as his hand around your neck loosened. Your fingers wound in his brown curls as he laid you on the cool forest floor. Those strong hands caressed every inch of your body as you smiled into his furious kisses. “For all eternity,” He breathed on your chest as his fingers pushed up the skirt of your gown, his touch sending calm ripples through you as they traveled up the delicate skin there.

Your breath caught as you felt his finger meet your sensitive entrance. He traced across the entrance as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. Halbrand let out a low growl as he felt your body react to his touch. With no warning, his finger entered you and drew out a squeal at the sudden intrusion, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your hips arched to meet his come here motions. “I own this pretty pussy,” he breathed on your lips. “I own your mind, body, and soul, little one.”

“And my heart,” you said through a strangled breath as the pad of his hand pressed against your sensitive bud. Your words caused him to stall slightly, slowing the motions. Your eyes opened to meet his dark gaze, and the world around you fell into an eerie silence as you felt the cold air roll into the forest. Darkness crawled into you as you dared not to look away from his gaze, wrapping itself around you as his motions quickened. Those dark threads bound themself around you, sealing your promise to the being encasing you. A promise that you could never imagine breaking.

“And you have mine,” he breathed as the air snapped with a particular fire before you felt your orgasm build when Halbrand began to rub his thumb against your bud. The world warmed, and the light returned as you felt your orgasm pool in your belly. “Come around these fingers, my queen,”

That was all it took for you to succumb to your first orgasm as his dark queen. Your walls squeezed down around his fingers as you ached to feel him buried deep inside you, knowing that now it would be a completely different experience. A call of his name left your lips, causing Halbrand to chuckle softly. His lips captured yours as you tried to catch your breath.

“I need you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Of course, but first, I wish to see if I can pull even more sounds out of those pretty lips.”

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ y/n gets jealous

warnings: violence, mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, a tad bit of nsfw at the end.

summary: y/n notices a girl at a party who doesn’t know when to stop digging her own grave.

“hey i’m gonna go talk to sarah, i’ll be back..” she muttered in his ear, sharing a quick peck before leaving the outside table, full of kooks.

she’d spotted his sister near the pool on her own, looking rather melancholy. “sarah? you okay?” she spoke tentatively, sitting on the lounge chair next to the girl.

“oh, um yeah, im fine..” sarah mumbled, yet cursed her sudden tears for undermining her. watching, y/n’s brows furrowed in concern as she moved closer to sarah.

“sarah..what happened?” she placed an arm around the girl, rubbing her shoulder. “i don’t really want to talk about it, maybe tomorrow?”

a skeptical smile appeared on y/n’s lips as she stared at her. sarah nodded back in confirmation.

“well i’ll be over there with rafe if you need me, m’kay?” she claimed, squeezing sarah’s shoulder once more before drawing away from her.

standing up from the chair, she pulled down the hem of her dress, heels clicking against the floor.

y/n’s eyes widened as she neared the table, unable to work out if they were deceiving her or not.

a blonde had taken her seat next to rafe, leaning into his stiff frame as his face contorted, looking around frantically for y/n.

huffing, she sped up, closing in on the girl attempting to hang off of rafe’s arm.

“hey, this is my seat, and that’s my boyfriend..” y/n stated, nostrils flaring slightly as she stood, hands on hips.

“um, i don’t see your name on them?” the girl questioned, laughing as though to mock her.

glancing at rafe, he nodded at her discreetly, reaching to unbutton his shirt.

“i think you’ll find..” she started, moving closer “that..” pointing to rafe’s chest “is my name..”

the girls mouth fell open as she examined the cursive lettering inked on rafe’s clavicle.

stuttering, the girl gesticulated nervously. “well, i’m sure you could find another seat..” she spoke anxiously, a slimy grin on her face.

“get the fuck out of my seat..” y/n spat, closing in on her scantily clad frame.

y/n waited a few seconds, allowing the girl a chance to redeem herself. when she didn’t, y/n reached down aggressively, pulling the girl out of the chair by her hair.

rafe, who had eyed the situation calmly, was now out of his seat, yet still lingered on the other side of the table.

he knew she could handle herself, just like she had many times before. rafe certainly wasn’t opposed to y/n’s threatening behaviour, seeing as he’d do the exact same if the roles were reversed. he watched in anticipation, prepared to pull her away when he thought she’d caused enough damage.

hoots and hollers erupted around the two girls while y/n dragged her by hair, slamming her face into the floor as she shrieked.

pulling away, y/n stood above the girl, chest heaving as she scanned the scene. the girls friends rushed to her side, shooting y/n hateful glares as they attempted to stop the waterfall of blood flowing from her nose.

pushing through the crowd, she grabbed rafe by the hand, dragging him inside and through the house.

entering the bathroom, she shut the door behind her before rafe lunged for her, attacking her lips with wet kisses.

he fell back onto the closed toilet seat, pulling her on top of him. his hands roamed needily, gripping her waist while he trailed kisses along her neck.

“you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry baby..” rafe growled against her skin, the vibrations causing the wetness between her legs to pool.

smirking, she kneeled before him on the cold tiles. “i know..” she spoke breathlessly, hastily undoing his belt.

pulling down his pants, her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, teasing the tip with soft kisses.

“don’t be a fucking tease y/n..” he hissed, grabbing ahold of her hair.

he pushed himself into her mouth, fucking her face ruthlessly as the tension inside his stomach grew.

looking up at him through her lashes, tears brimmed along her waterline as their eyes met. as he threw his head back, she reached a gentle hand down to her core, circling her clit softly.

“fuck, stop, i wanna cum in you..”

[killevru33]

Modern Sukuna x reader? My fav type of brain rot rn (more like obsession but live laugh love)

i saw a video of this guy doing makeup then my brain was like WOAH write this, so i did. MUAH

Modern Sukuna x reader where the reader does his makeup. Fluff with a little sprinkle of something else wink wink (still mostly fluff don’t be deceived)

2023 words. My bad got carried away

NOT edited sorry for any mistakes i cannot be bothered to fix anything i wanna go to sleep XO.

“Can you please stop moving, it is just a headband!” I tell the man in front of me practically yelling in his face.

I watch as he rolls his eyes but complying nontheless. “do you really only have this headband.” He mumbles as I finally get all his hair behind the fluffy headband that melts into his hair seamlessly, the same shade of pink as his.

“Yes, it is.” I lie to him with a smile on my face. He hums moving closer to me once I turn around looking for my moisturizer. I am sitting on our bathrooms sink with the entirety of my make-up bag scattered across countertop. I pop open the lid squeezing a fair amount onto my index finger. Putting the bottle down I turn to face my boyfriend who is now inches from my own face.

My breath catches in my throat as I feel his breath fan across my lips. “What’s this supposed to be?” He asks me without looking at the moisturizer that is sitting on my finger.

I let out a breath bringing it up to his face. “Its moisturizer Sukuna, I’ve put it on you before.” I mutter to him.

He smirks giving me a few inches of space as I turn around for yet another product.

Taking a moment to spot what my next step is, my eyes finally find the familiar primer I use every time I do my makeup.

I take the bottle directly to his face pumping a few drops onto his forehead, cheeks, and chin. I rub it in gently, admiring how clear his skin is. I cannot even recall the last time I saw a pimple on his perfect face.

“I think it’s good princess.” Sukuna speaks out a smirk evident in his tone.

I stop rubbing in the primer leaning back to grab my concealer. “You’ve got great genetics.” I stupidly tell him.

He laughs and it feels like my heart skips a beat. Taking a breath, I remind myself this was my idea in the first place; I begged him for months to let me do this. He just randomly agreed this time catching me of guard as I was prepared for the rejection I have received every time I asked.

I twist open my concealer taking the wand to his face. I smear a fair amount under his eyes concentrating on his inner corners. I put a small bit of product under his nostrils and forehead, finishing with a swipe on each of his upper-jaw lines.

I then grab my eyebrow pencil using one end to brush his brow hairs. I twist the opposite end after flipping the pencil around; skillfully I draw tiny lines onto his already full eyebrows. Sukuna hands me a makeup brush with a thin and sharp shape. The next few minutes I silently carve out his brows.

I feel Sukuna place his hands on my waist, slowly rubbing my hips as I finish up. I turn and grab my setting spray and beauty blender. Sukunas hands come to a stop and then on my left hip I feel a tight pinch. “Ow?!” I screech moving as far back from the man who assaulted my skin.

He chuckles putting his hands on my lower back, pushing back up. “What?” he asks innocently.

I roll my eye deciding to move on from his attack. I spray my beauty blender with my setting spray then onto his face ignoring the way he flinches his face as the mist coats his skin. Once I go to pat the beauty blender onto his skin he flinches again. I eye him trying again only for the same response. “Sukuna.” I warn him only for him to still avoid my beauty blender. “Please just don’t move.” I groan pleading with him.

He does it again, so I grab his chin using most my strength to pull him closer. I hold him in place patting the concealer into his face and he lets me. Afterwords I move to get my liquid contour keeping my hand on his chin. I look over his face and giggle noticing the tone difference between us.

“What’s so funny.” He grumbles eyeing my hands movement. I open the container grabbing my designated brush to rub the contour under his check bones, then onto his nose to define it even more.

“The concealer is definitely not your shade.” I giggle out simultaneously blending the contour in.

He makes a displeased face but stays silent, going back to watching me intently. Satisfied with my blending I switch my contour and brush for my liquid blush, and it’s nominated brush that only ever touches blush products. Quickly I spray the brush with setting spray before dipping it onto the product. I take the brush to Sukunas upper check bone; blending it up till it touches the edges of his brow. Repeating the step on the other side I subconsciously lean into him.

He grabs onto my upper thighs giving them a tight squeeze. I move to add more product onto the brush but before I can apply more to his face he speaks up. “Careful with that, you got a history of blush blindness.”

I pull back astounded from the words that came out of his mouth. “Come again.” I demand more then ask.

“You heard me.” He licks his lips concealing a smirk that I know to well.

My jaw goes slack. “I have never once! Had blush blindness the fuck is you talking about?!”

“Come on be for real.” He deadpans

I grimace shaking my head asking as if a bug was buzzing in my ear. Taking a long breath in I meet his eyes. “I like a rosy look, sue me.”

“Whatever you wanna call it.” He drawls out.

“Are you telling me you don’t like my makeup?” I grill him, putting the blush down getting out the setting spray again.

He rubs my thighs, giving me a soft peck on the check. “No. I just like making your checks rosy myself.”

If it was not for the blush currently on my own skin, he would have seen what he liked. “That’s cheeky” I whisper distracting myself with spraying the setting spray all over his face forcing him to close his eyes, offering me a shield from his eyes to try and compose myself.

I place the setting spray down grabbing one of my most expensive products.

“Give me a warning next time you spray that shit woman.” He coughs out dramatically. I roll my eyes ignoring him as I softly fan his face with my unoccupied hand.

After the setting spray is dry enough for my liking, I place it down and get my press puff. Looking down I place the product Ive been holding onto the counter. My hands slowly open the black lid with the words ‘Huda Beauty’ sketch on-top. I lift the lid, watching as the lose powders particles fly in the air; the smell of fresh florals softly fills the air around us. “Don’t move for this I wanna do it right.” I tell the man whose hands are moving up my body inch by inch.

He hums and I start my attack on his face. Pressing the powder under the contour on his checks, I get more powder onto my puff and outline his nose before going onto the rest of his face with the excess product.

“Mkay now I mascara and lashes.” I beam excitedly, I even went out of my way to save a pair of lashes so I can have fresh ones for this makeup look.

I grab all the items I will need having them ready at my side. Staring with the lashes I peal them off their package taking each one to his eye to map out where I will need to cut them. Getting his eye shape, I take the scissors beside me and cut the lashes to fit his eyes. I expertly get the glue for the application, perfectly aligning it onto the lashes band. Letting the lashes sit I grab my eyelash curler. “I’m gonna place this on your lashes, when I say so just blink really hard to curl them.” I instruct moving the curler to his lashes. He listens and closes his eyes after I say so making the process easy for me. I move back and trade the eye lash curler for my lash glue. I grab Sukunas chin and get even closer. Keeping my palm on his cheek I tell him to close his eyes. I gently place the lash glue right above where his lashes grow being as precise as I can.

I move myself back finished with the lash glue. I just stare at him for a moment, catching his deep brown eyes. He must be one of gods favourites. I study his face without shame. If I was a bystander it would look like I had hearts in my eyes. Maybe I do, but I cannot help it. From the sharpness of his bone structure to the thickness of his lashes and brows that most girls would kill for. His beauty sometimes overwhelms me even so I can never rip my eyes from it.

“you’re to pretty Kuna.” I tell him in my daze.

He stares at me unmoving for what feels like forever. The silence so loud between us. Then he moves quicker then my eyes can adjust to. Capturing my lips breathless kiss. I want to pull away and tell him he is going to ruin all the hard work I put into his makeup, to my disappointment he reads my mind. i’m left breathless and now I know for certain there I have heart eyes. Disheartening I do not go in for a second kiss, instead I go for the lashes, picking each one up to perfectly place upon his upper lash line; making sure the inner corners stay down.

I reach for my fluffiest brush to brush away all the powder that was baking on his face.

I look over his face, my smile starts to hurt. I look behind me for the finial touch. I grab the last step unscrewing the top, hearing a pop! As it opens. I pucker my lips motioning for him to do the same.

I glide the pinky gloss over his slightly swollen lips due to the kiss we shared.

Putting the gloss down I let out a soft shriek, pushing his hands off my waist I squeeze past him rushing for my phone. As soon as I come back into the bathroom I snap unnecessary amount of pictures.

“Oh, your in for it now.” Sukuna smirks reaching for my phone only for me to pull away, running out of the bathroom into our shared room.

Giggling uncontrollably like a little girl I go to the living room on one side of our coffee table. He’s right behind me the entire time now parallel to me. In a flash he jumps over the table snatching me up in his arms. I scream as we crash onto the couch. Sukuna grabs my phone tosses it without a single care somewhere on the other end of the couch. He has me trapped beneath him. I wiggle my hands free cupping his face. I gasp “I forgot highlighter!”

He scoffs at me, ignoring my distress. “I did something for you.” He starts taking a pause looking down to my lips. “Now I think it is only fair you do something for me.” I cannot even respond before he smashes his lips to mine much more rough compared to the last one. He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist I don’t break the kiss. I run my hands up his hair. He takes us back to the bathroom, putting me down. He walks to the shower starting. He comes to where I am standing pulling my shirt followed by my pants. I tug at his shirt and he does the same. I go into the shower changing the temperature while he joins me.

Lets just say the makeup didn’t last long.

[eringobragh420]

♣️ Pairing — Seth Rollins ♥︎ f!OC ♣️ Summary — Seth believes he's doing the right thing. (Part 1/?) ♣️ Word Count — 3.1k 🛑 Warnings — Attempted suicide, depression, infidelity, eventual smut 18+ ♣️ Notes — Not sure if there's an audience for this one lol if so, let me know! There will be eventual fluff and smut. ♣️ Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! ♣️ MASTERLIST ❤️ Song is "Reputation (Just To Save Yours)" by Post Malone

Seth

He looked at the black suitcase in the corner of the hotel room, his cross-body fanny pack sitting atop the clothes inside. His heart pounded as he thought about what was waiting for him inside the zipper. It was time. If he thought about it hard enough, it was past time. He should have made this decision long, long ago. A clatter in the bathroom drew his somber brown eyes to that door for a brief moment—his fiancée, his everything, his reason. His gaze slid back to the bag. He didn’t know exactly how she would react, though he knew she would be upset. He only hoped she would understand in the end—he was doing it for her. He was finally putting her before himself.

take my own life just to save yours drink it all down just to throw it up take my own life just to save yours

He glanced down at the phone in his hand, having forgotten momentarily he was holding it all, and there, staring him right in the face, was the ultimate nail in his coffin. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips at his own dark humor. TMZ had posted on their Instagram two nights ago another article depicting him as a cheater, this time with a woman he hadn’t told his fiancée about. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, or that he didn’t know the woman, or that his fiancée claimed it didn’t bother her because she had finally learned to trust him after all the other times. It mattered that these articles would never go away, made up relationships or rendezvous would never cease to be written about, and his fiancée would be forced to face them, deal with them, and question her faith in him every time a new one was published. And it was his fault. He expected and agreed to be punished for the rest of his life for his transgressions, but not her—she didn’t deserve it, and he wouldn’t allow it any longer. Surely they wouldn’t continue to run these kinds of stories if he were—

“Are you okay?”

Seth Rollins snapped out of his stupor and looked at her, his beautiful fiancée, as she exited the bathroom. Her scent billowed into the room, and Seth’s eyes fell closed as the brief memory of buying her the Versace perfume flashed through his mind. She’d fallen in love with it, not so subtly hinting at a fresh bottle for her birthday every year since. Her honey-colored hair was curled to perfection, makeup a masterpiece, and her outfit on point. She was going to nail the interview, he knew it. His timing was bad, he knew that, too, but it was now or never. Everything was in order. He hadn’t expected the interview to be rescheduled. 

take my own life just to save yours i got a reputation that i can’t deny you’re the superstar, entertain us

He smiled at her as she crossed the room, extending his arms to envelope her within. One last time. His eyes fell closed once more because now that he was holding her, how was he supposed to let her go? She felt so good against him, so right, so pure. And he’d been nothing but cruel and deceiving and a user. He didn’t deserve her. Nobody deserved her, really, but certainly not Seth Freakin’ Cheater Rollins. He smelled her hair for the last time, inhaling deeply, hoping her scent lodged itself into his nostrils so he could smell it while he’s… He felt her breath on his neck, her small hands squeezing his much larger back. He didn’t know where he was headed in the next few hours, and he didn’t much care, but he kept faith he would one day hold her like this again. After, though. After he paid for his transgressions. If he ever fully did.

entertain us but please don’t wake me up i betrayed us but us don’t give a fuck

“This is stupid,” she said, pulling away suddenly. Seth held on, which was unusual, and she noticed. However reluctant, he let his hands slide away from her warm body. “I’m not gonna get this job. We both know it.”

“Bullshit,” Seth replied, swatting his hand. “There’s no one better for the job.”

He wasn’t just saying that. Her ideas, so far, had been brilliant and well-received by the WWE Universe—the couple choosing to ignore the mass sympathy the fans had for a woman who had been repeatedly cheated on and humiliated by one of the most popular superstars. Whether they liked the direction the storylines were taking or simply felt sorry for her, she had won an interview with Triple H himself for a job opening in Creative. She no longer wanted to be on the show—she wanted to write for it. She was a talented performer, that was for sure, but she would be even more deadly with a keyboard.

“Seth,” she said, looking up at him from nearly a foot away in height.

“I mean it,” he said. “Please don’t second-guess yourself. This is what you’re supposed to be doing. I know it.”

“But what if—”

“What if you don’t get the job? You go back to wrestling and try again next time and if it doesn’t work, you keep wrestling, which you love, and then you retire. What if you do get the job? You live the rest of your life doing what you love and then you retire.” He left himself out of the picture on purpose. “It’s a win-win situation.”

After a moment, her expression relaxed, her eyes softened, and she smiled. God, he would miss that smile. “How do you always know what to say?”

kill myself today kill it all away broken path i made please just stay away

Seth swallowed, a small smile flickering across his thin lips. He did always know what to say—especially when it came to convincing her to stay with him after another night of fucking someone other than her. “I also know,” he started, ignoring the self-loathing thoughts constantly fluttering around in his battered brain, “that Trips hates it when people are late for meetings.”

She glanced at her Apple watch and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Oh, God,” she whined pathetically.

“Calm down,” Seth chuckled. “Deep breaths. Shoulders back. Chin up.” She followed each order without question, her body ramrod straight as if presenting herself to her commanding officer. “You’re gonna kill it.” He instantly regretted his poor choice of words, but she had no idea why they were in such bad taste, and his heart ached. It would be just like him to humiliate her one last time before putting her through what might prove to be one of the most difficult events of her life. It’s for the best, he kept telling himself. She would hurt for a while, but it would go away and she would find someone else and she would forget about him.

“I love you,” she said softly.

The Visionary inhaled as deeply as his lungs would allow to keep the tears from pooling in his eyes, to keep from grabbing her and squeezing her and never letting go, to keep from confessing his true intentions once she left the hotel room. He looked into her eyes for the last time, held her hands, fingered the enormous diamond ring he’d purchased in the hope that he could buy her forgiveness for one transgression or another. Christ, he really didn’t think it would be this hard to say goodbye without saying goodbye. He knew what he was doing was the right answer, so why didn’t that make this any easier?

i know i fucked up before, but i won’t do it again and i got a lotta things that i wish i would’ve said and i’m the same damn fool when i’m wearing that hat again i know i fucked up, and i can’t make it right

“I love you, too,” he replied after clearing his throat, which he played off as having dry mouth.

He tried to stop it, but she pressed her lips to his, and his eyes squeezed shut and his body somehow froze and melted all at the same time. He cradled her face, thumbs caressing her silken skin, and he realized too late that he should have memorized every peak and slope of her lips because she was pulling away too suddenly, and he was leaving very soon. She giggled, and his heart fluttered, stomach rolling. She quickly reached up with her thumb to wipe away her lipstick from his mouth before grabbing her purse, blowing another kiss at him, and then she was gone. And he was alone.

watch yourself, i can’t slow down this is who i am, can’t be anyone else, so don’t let me go, save yourself just save yourself, just save yourself 

Seth grabbed the small bag from his suitcase and tossed it on his side of the bed. He filled two plastic cups to the brim with water from the tap and set them on the end table. He clapped his hands to maintain focus—adrenaline was zooming through his veins and his heart was slamming against his rib cage and he could feel the tiny doubts in the back of his mind chiseling away at the wall he’d built to block them out. He unzipped the fanny pack, pulled two pill bottles out, and placed them beside the cups of water. At the time he was prescribed these antidepressants, he’d assured the doctor he hadn’t been suicidal. He hoped Dr … WhateverTheHell didn’t blame himself for not seeing any signs. Especially since Seth had been laying his happiness on fairly thickly for those around him as of late to avoid suspicion. So far, so good. Staring at the full bottles, he pulled his blonde and brown hair into a high bun so he would be able to lie comfortably on his back on the bed. His mahogany eyes closed, and he saw her in a beautiful, flowing wedding dress, walking toward him on a deserted beach in Hawaii where she’d told him she’d always wanted to get married. She wouldn’t be headed toward him when she got married, and Seth believed she would be better off because of it. Smiling at how happy she looked, the former Shield member opened his eyes and felt a wave of calm crash over him. It would all be okay. He started toward the pills when he heard the lock click on the hotel room door.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed, rushing into the room, bringing with her that pretty perfume and positive, albeit anxious, energy. “I don’t know where the hell I think I’m going without my keys.” She crossed the room, snatched the keys from the table not two feet from where Seth stood, and he knew she could hear his heart clobbering his chest or his uneven breathing, or she would see the sweat forming at his hairline. Fuck, if she realized what she walked in on … 

“Just to the parking lot,” he automatically replied, and his eyes snapped shut for a quick second, in complete disbelief he’d allowed himself to speak at all when he knew his voice would crack like it just did, quiver slightly as he drowned in the accumulating adrenaline. But if he hadn’t spoken, she’d have been suspicious. This was the biggest lose-lose situation of his life.

“Hilarious,” she said, standing on the ball of one foot to lift herself so she could kiss his cheek, which she again wiped free of her lipstick. She was going to have to reapply at this rate. Seth’s smile was small and quick and he dared not meet her gaze. “Love you.” As she headed back toward the door, she glanced in the direction of the nightstand, toward the pills and the cups of water, and Seth worried he was about to pass out. But she continued on, disappearing behind the door, and Seth collapsed, one hand on the mattress, the other clutching his stomach. 

i was born to raise hell i was born to take pills i was born to chase mills i was born to cave in i was born to fuck hoes i was born to fuck up i was born … what a shame

When the nausea passed, The Architect started toward the pills again. He froze mid-step, waiting for her to come back, and after nearly a minute of waiting, he took a seat on the bed beside the table. He opened both bottles with trembling hands, set the caps down, and he folded his hands in his lap. After several deep breaths, he poured five or six white pills into the palm of his hand, launched them into his mouth, and swallowed a few gulps of water. Less than twenty seconds. He could do this. He wanted to get them all down, both bottles, before he lost consciousness, to be sure he got the job done. He could do this.

take my own life just to save yours drink it all down just to throw it up take my own life just to save yours take my own life just to save yours i got a reputation that i can’t deny you’re the superstar, entertain us

Violet

She unlocked the black SUV and climbed behind the wheel. She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat and checked her makeup and hair one last time as she inserted the stupid key into the ignition. She was going to be so late—Hunter probably wouldn’t even open the door for her at this point, and she wouldn’t blame him. Her hands fell into her lap, her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. She could do this. Seth had been so supportive throughout her journey from superstar to writer, and while she could easily let herself down, she simply could not disappoint her fiancé. Grabbing the steering wheel once more with one hand, she maneuvered out of the hotel’s parking lot, and onto the busy roadway.

This was going to be her year, she decided. With a job in Creative on the horizon, she would also be getting married in the near future. The thought brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t yet told Seth, but she’d already been wedding dress shopping a few times. She went alone, told no one, and disguised herself as best she could while shopping so her secrecy wouldn’t get back to her fiancé. Of course, several days after trying on wedding dresses, a routine doctor appointment informed her of the child growing inside of her, a baby belonging to herself and Seth Rollins. A decidedly unplanned pregnancy, she’d been more than excited to find out anyway, and she imagined an incredulous, yet thrilled smile gracing Seth’s thick beard once she shared the news with him. They hadn’t really had the conversation about whether or not they wanted children, but with Seth having turned over a new leaf, she just knew he would handle this life-changing event better now than he would have last year. He would be shocked, of course, but happy nonetheless.

Violet was so proud of Seth. Everything he’d overcome, his relearning how to be in and sustain a healthy relationship, and especially the mental help he’d sought all on his own. He was seeing a therapist, and his psychiatrist had prescribed antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication, which he was taking regularly without a single complaint. He’d given her opportunities and plenty of reasons to leave him, but her love for him outweighed the anger and resentment. Neither of them could ever forget all the cheating, the lies, or the public opinions dumped on them in the wake of each transgression. But they could move on, and that’s what Violet intended to do.

She smiled, random memories floating through her mind as she came to a stop at a red light, just before the white line. Seth had been so attentive to her while being compliant with his medication and doctor appointments, surprising them both. He held her hand more, pressed whisker kisses to her cheek, and even slapped her ass while they were grocery shopping. Most importantly, he spent his nights at home. He’d had his pills at the ready when she’d left him a little bit ago, causing Violet to again swell with pride. 

Her eyebrow twitched.

As the moment became clearer in her mind, she recalled both bottles of antidepressants had been on the bedside table. Both bottles. Why did he need both bottles? 

Her head tilted.

Next to both bottles of antidepressants had been two full plastic hotel cups of water. Of course he used water to swallow the pill—just one pill; the other bottle had been entrusted to him due to his traveling and the possibility of misplacing one—but he didn't need two fucking overflowing cups.

She shook her head, a brief, uncomfortable smile splitting her lips because what she was thinking was outrageous. Not possible. Seth wouldn’t do that to her. 

He’d been nervous when she’d gone back for her keys. Her eyes snapped shut, only to open at twice their normal size, and she saw—playing right in front of her unblinking, unseeing eyes—Seth glance at the table with the pills and water. He’d looked right at them, and she had looked right at them. 

Tears welling in her eyes, she upended her purse, dumping the entire contents onto the passenger seat. Swiping things to the floor, she snatched her phone and, with trembling hands, managed to place a call to her fiancé. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four …

“Hey, it’s Seth. Leave me a message. I’ll get back to ya.”

Violet ended the call. She sniffed, salty rivers winding down her cheeks, leaving pale trails in their wake, washing away her perfect makeup. She pressed send once more, listening to the ringing, and she tugged at her lips with quivering fingers. Seth’s voice-mail answered again at the very moment the traffic light turned green. She tossed the phone in the general direction of her purse as she hit the gas, turning the wheel hard to the left so she could make a U turn.

She saw the truck as she was turning, but by the time her desperate brain registered the danger, her foot wasn’t fast enough to react before the blue cab of the semi slammed into the front of her SUV. The sounds made by crunching metal and breaking glass and the squealing of the truck’s many tires were the loudest she’d ever heard. Her body bounced against every surface, head meeting the driver’s side window and producing a crack of its own, and her light blinked out.

[anjelicawrites]

Hii! Can I request a modern aemond x fem reader with reader trying to surprise aemond after a hard week at work. Aemond comes home to find reader cooking with wearing only an apron.

Hi nonnie!!! Thank you for the ask! This was fun to write!

Warnings: fem!reader, p in v sex, two idiots in love

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Aemond loves his job. It's tiring and stressful but fills him with pride and happiness. Obviously some weeks are worse than others, some weekends the only thing he wants to do is lay in bed with his head on your tummy as you caress his hair and massage his scalp, others he's happy to be dragged around town, hopping from one exhibition to another with his hand safely in yours.

This Friday he's especially tired, having worked over time for two weeks straight, even during the weekend, now he just needs you.

"My love?" He asks from the door.

Even as tired as he is, Aemond tidily aligns his shoes next to the door and hangs the keys on the hook. If it weren't for the delicious smell coming from the general direction of the kitchen, he'd think you're still out and about.

"Are you in there?"

Any other word leaves his mouth when he sees you.

"Welcome back handsome." You purr, with your back still turned.

For precious seconds Aemond can't talk, all the blood in his veins having tumbled down to his cock: either his eye is deceiving him, or you are not wearing any clothes.

"How was your day?" You calmly ask him, as if you're not wearing a frilly, black apron on your naked body. "Where are your clothes?" He finally manages to ask. "What clothes? I'm dressed!" "That frilly thing can't be categorized as 'dress', my love." "No, not with that attitude."

Your naked feet slap on the floor as you walk towards him, your beautiful breasts, barely hidden, jiggle with every step. Aemond is surprised he hasn't fainted yet, now that all of his blood is concentrated in his raging erection.

"You didn't answer my question." You pout, going on your tiptoes to peck his lips. "How was your day?" "Better now."

His fingers stroke your supple skin, so soft and warm, the sugary smell of your body lotion invades his nostrils, helping him relax. Before he can effectively grab at your hips, you squirm away with a laugh.

"Come back here." He says, without realizing how deep his voice has become. "I don't think I will." You answer, coyly staring at him from under your lashes. "You have a ten second headstart."

An excited laughter escapes your lips the second you see how dark his eye has become; you dash towards the living room, squeaking happily as he looks at you, one hand absentmindedly loosening his tie.

The apartment is big, not enormous, it's easy for Aemond to reach you with long strides: you're not really running or hiding, busy as you are with laughing and staring at his stalking form. He's so beautiful, he reminds you of a sleek panther hunting its prey.

"Gotcha!" He cages you between the piano and the bookcase by planting both hands near your shoulders. "What are you going to do now, naughty girl?"

His eye rakes down your body, your curves barely hidden by the stupid apron.

"I'm going to go back to the kitchen and finish preparing dinner."

You make a point of ignoring the lust radiating from his body, playing dumb is so much fun!

"I'm not hungry for that."

His voice is a raspy murmur that goes to your cunt: you're already wet.

"I can cook you something else." You say, staring at him all doe eyed and innocent. "I see." His index finger taps your nose. "You're still playing dumb." "I don't..."

He stops your answer with a raised eyebrow and the humming he reserves for when you're being naughty. You squeal when he lifts you up, your legs finding home naturally around his slim hips; you know how strong Aemond is, you just forget it and the blatant display feeds the fire already burning in your belly. The time to play is finished.

"Have me." You rub your cunt against his clothed erection. "Devour me, sate yourself."

Aemond crowds you against the wall and moans when he feels your soft breasts against his chest.

"Would you let me devour you whole, my beautiful girl?"

The dangerous darkness pooling in his eye makes your cunt quiver. "Anything to quench your hunger, my love."

Aemond stares at your soft features in the dying afternoon sun, memorizes your open expression of trust and desire: he still can't believe you're his, all his to love and torment.

"I need you, now." He can't control the desire that taints his words, the hunger, the passion that burns inside his soul. You don't answer with your words, instead you lift your arms over your head, where you cross them at the wrist; if your body weren't so tight against Aemond's, your breasts would push out, instead they spill partially from the neckline of the apron, the knot on your neck having loosed considerably.

"Take this off!" You beg him, a dark laugh your only response. With fast movements Aemond opens his fly to free his aching cock and sheaths himself inside of you with one long push that has your heels push against his arse with a scream.

You're wet and ready, still you feel every inch of his cock against your walls, opening you up, until he bottoms out, filling you completely.

In his hunger he doesn't give you the chance to adjust, he starts fucking your hole with fast pushes that make you bounce in his embrace, your nails scrape the wall in the attempt to anchor yourself, your palms slide against the red bricks, Aemond's movements too fast and brutal for you to truly find purchase: you can only submit to his desires, moaning and begging over the squelching of your drenched core, his cock head brutal against your G-spot; he grunts when every push is a fight against your curling muscles.

"Naughty girl, you're already there, aren't you?" He groans against your lips. "You just need a hard cock and you're a goner, aren't you?" "Yours... only, ah!"

He doesn't care about your answer, he can see the pleasure on your features, can hear your high pitched wails as your body arches against his and you come, your muscles so tight around his cock that he follows with a shout.

He slips out of your hole and his knees wobble, his lips feverishly search yours as you two slide on the floor, desperately grabbing at one another, breathless and tired.

Aemond doesn't have the strength to carry you to the sofa, he barely manages to turn on his back and pull you on himself to shield your naked body from the cold floor. A shiver courses through his body when you hug him and start leaving small kisses on his neck.

"Are you feeling better?"

Gods be good, he can feel his cock trying to stiffen again and you're just cuddling him.

"I'm starting to." His arms tighten around your body. "Was I too forceful?" "Never." You kiss his cheek. "I like it when you just let go like this."

You can feel him hum under your chest and you'd purr, if you could, you feel so relaxed in his arms, warmed by the setting sun: you could stay like this forever.

"What's this smell?"

Both you and Aemond sniff the air, you laugh.

"That's our dinner. Burned in the oven."

Aemond facepalms, before fishing for his phone in his pocket.

"Pizza?" "Yeah."

You straddle him while he's busy ordering you usuals, only after you start moving over his still soft cock.

"What are you doing?"

His hands curl around your hips, not to stop you but to help you.

"I think you're still a bit tense." Leisurely you finish opening the knots of the apron to throw it away. "It's my duty as your girlfriend to help you, is it not?" He doesn't answer, his eye is trained on your luscious breasts: he needs to suck on your tits until you beg him to stop.

"See something you like?" You stretch, pushing your bosom out. "Come down here. The pizzeria takes a while to deliver."

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

[wanderingxiao]

-The Cruel Prince-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~ 

Summary: Prince Scaramouche is a ruthless Prince ruling over Inazuma. His engagement to a princess has him upset. You are his servant who he talks to regularly. He invites you to his private chambers one day...

Pairing: Prince! Scaramouche x Servant! Female Reader

Warning: Mean/Nice Scara, power relationship, fluffy cuteness, mean princess she don't got no name, unprotected sex, foul language, mutual masturbation, porn w/ plot, and cream pies hehe.

Word Count: 6.3K (...These are too long. I'll be making some shorter smuts without so much plot!)

Enjoy~

“Hmph, you, servant. Meet me in my personal chambers when you are finished. Do not leave me waiting long.” Splashes of dark lavender pooled from his eyes, his gaze piercing and powerful as he stared intimidatingly in your direction. The flashes of his Royal outfit shining under the chandeliers of the palace. With a swift turn, the prince left the kitchen where you had been cleaning up with the other servants. Low murmurs were exchanged among your co-workers, most in envy, some in fear, and some with pity. Prince Scaramouche of Inazuma truly was someone to be feared among all ranks, Including those of other nations. Just the mention of his name and the sound of thunder struck fear into the souls of even the dead. Now here this terrifying man was, inviting you to his personal chambers. 

What could Prince Scaramouche possibly want with someone like you? 

As a product of Queen Ei’s corrupt contract with an outcasted mage, Prince Scaramouche was conceived purely from the virgin queen. She needn’t no king by her side, only a son to take over in her steed once he was of age. The prince was a cruel man. He was merciless to those who deceive him. Unforgiving to those who do not yield under the frigid gaze his familiar lavender eyes cast. And spiteful to the trespassers and criminals that threaten to tarnish the reputation his name held. The fluidity of his tongue was similar to the way he held the sharpened blade adorning his hip, precise and always going for the kill. The frostiness of his dark lavender eyes was enough to scare the strongest men in any kingdom to bow to his feet. The prince truly is a cruel man. 

But he can kind. 

In fact, your first meeting with Prince Scaramouche was somewhat pleasant. After dusting the library, you had a bit of free time before your next task and chose to enjoy reading a novel. Being too engrossed in your book, you failed to notice the prince entering the room. His harsh tongue broke you from your intense concentration, standing up to bow to him with an apology quick on your lips. He was silent for a moment before he asked what you were reading. You briefly explained a vague summary of the book and the prince gave only a hum of acknowledgment. He didn’t disturb you more and simply left off into the library to retrieve a book of his own. A week later, you identified his lonely figure sitting at a cushioned royal blue sofa reading the book you had been reading. Thus, starting your complex relationship with Prince Scaramouche. Meeting in the library every two days to quietly discuss literature over tea. 

Going to his personal chambers… was new. 

Once you finished with your task, you made your way down the quiet hallways towards Prince Scaramouche’s private chambers. The sound of your own footsteps echoed in the stillness of the halls, almost identical to the sound of the thunder that often reined in the quiet and gloomy kingdom of Inazuma. The large mahogany doors of the prince’s private chambers came into your view, the smooth oak fragrance swimming through your nostrils, making you remember just how wealthy and powerful the prince was. Muffled voices came from the other side of the wooden doors, and you debated whether you should leave and come back at a different time. Reflecting over the prince’s words, you gave three firm knocks on the door, silencing the voices on the other end until one spoke loudly and sternly. 

“Enter.” After an approval was voiced, you carefully entered the room and laid eyes on Prince Scaramouche and his fiancé. The cold look in his eyes never left, even for the woman whom he was betrothed to. The princess was already looking at you when you entered, a disgusted and envious look in her eyes. “What is this servant doing here in your room, Scaramouche? You knew I was coming today yet you still invite someone to your room to bother us?!” The prince paid no mind to the princess’s obnoxious question and beckoned you with his index finger. With quiet and careful steps, you made your way to the prince, standing in front of his desk looking down at him. “(Y/N).” Your eyes widened upon the use of your name. In the palace —at least in Inazuma—royals were not supposed to speak or even know their servants’ names. It was deemed unnecessary and a bit too close for blue-blood liking. Getting close to a servant was strictly forbidden, so you never told him your name even when he requested it of you. “Escort the princess out.” 

“What?! But we’re supposed to be planning our wedding! You can’t throw me out! I won’t leave!” The princess sat down on one of his purple cushioned seats accented by a midnight threading. The prince merely looked at her and back to you, his eyes sharply narrowing as if to tell you to obey him. With a deep breath you politely spoke to the princess, “Please, princess. The prince has requested you-“ The princess stood making you stop your sentence as you believed she was going to leave. Her body turned towards you, her expensive heels clicking along the wooden floors of the prince’s private chambers until she was on you. In a blur, her hand rose and left a nasty red imprint on your cheek. Your legs felt shaky and the sting from her slap made tears water into your eyes. “Don’t ever speak to me so carelessly like that again, servant! I will be your queen! You treat me with respect! Do not let this happen again! I will return later to discuss our planning!”

The princess left, leaving you alone with Prince Scaramouche. The silence was utterly deafening. His dark lavender eyes were focused on your cheek, studying the rising redness that stained your perfect skin. A slender gloved finger rose and instructed you to come to his side. Your steps were shaky towards him, the thumping of your own heart loud in your ears the closer to got to him. You stood by his chair; gaze set down to him relaxing in his expertly crafted chair. The moment your eyes met you could feel how intense and threatening his gaze really was. Dark lashes fluttered against his eyes once he spared you a few lucid blinks. Your hands clasped together in front of you, awaiting an order from the prince. 

“On your knees.” The command was stern and deep, practically forcing you to your knees beside the arm of his chair. Prince Scaramouche turned his chair to face you, his knees so close to your face you thought he was accidentally going to kick you in the face. You closed your eyes, lips tightening in a thin line awaiting his words. “…Lift your head.” You did as he instructed, your eyes landing on the smug and prideful expression that plastered itself onto his pale features. A cruel and teasing smile spread onto his lips, obviously pleased by your unwavering obedience. “Do you know why I’ve asked you to come?” Your head shook honestly, any sense of words dying in your throat as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. A low chuckle slipped from his throat, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Truly pathetic you are…” 

“F…Forgive me, Prince…” His midnight gloved hands gripped your chin causing red to blossom over both your cheeks. The smoothness of his thumb rose to glide over your lips, his eyes now focused on the plush softness of your lips. Once he realized he was staring a bit too longingly at your lips, he scoffed and let your chin go, now running his fingers along the handprint swollen into your cheek. “Such a good girl. You always listen so well. I’ll make sure her actions do not go unpunished as your reward.” Your eyes widened slightly at his praise and promise. Your lips parted only to have his finger press lightly against your lips. “Keep those pretty lips shut and listen.” You remained quiet, the heat of your cheeks only increasing due to the closeness of his touch. He retracted his hand and sighed out in frustration. “That wretch needs to go back to her own kingdom and stop interfering in my personal affairs so much. It’s damn annoying that I can’t get a moment to breath without her head weaseling its way so far up my ass I can’t even shit her out if I tried.” 

A small giggle left your mouth, humored by his foul language and use of words. He paused to listen to your laughter, his face lighting up in surprise and bewilderment at such a sound. You lowered your head quickly muttering an apology. This only amused him more. “Hah! Am I truly that scary or are you this weak?” With a slightly flustered expression, you bit your lip and looked up to him again, shaking your head in response. The look that graced his dark lavender eyes told you that he wanted you to speak. He needed to hear it. “I…I’m not scared of you, Prince Scaramouche. You’ve always… been kind to me, even at our meetings in the library to discuss books. You’ve never shown true malice towards me. I only worry of disappointing you, Prince.” 

It was evident from the look on his face that he was greatly pleased by your answer. “Hmm. A fine answer. That deserves a little reward don’t you think?” A sly smile spread across his lips, his teeth peaking from the plushness of his pale pink lips. Your face began to flush pink again, watching helplessly as his face leaned closer to yours. “How about a kiss? I think that sounds like a lovely reward.” Your heart hammered harder against your chest; your eyes wide as the prince tilted his head towards your lips. Nothing could stop him from doing as he pleased with you. You closed your eyes tightly, waiting for the impact of his lips against yours. A low chuckle came beside your ear, making you flinch. “Haha, you should see the look in your face. Did you actually think I was going to kiss you?” 

“A-Ah?! W-Wait no… I-I’m so sorr—Mmph!” A hungry pressure was applied onto your lips, silencing your pitiful apology to the powerful prince. His tongue forced your lips apart, sliding over your teeth and gums with a predatory dominance. Your hands gripped the frilled fabric of your servant’s dress, eyes screwed tightly shut as you shook in his forceful lip-lock. Your mouth weakly fell apart for him, letting his tongue invade your mouth to claim you as his own. His gloved hand slid through your hair, lightly tugging your head back to push his tongue deeper. Your body was beginning to get hot, a soft sigh of embarrassed pleasure leaving your mouth into his. His lips curled against yours, letting you feel the way his expression morphed. He pulled away from you, his tongue slowly leaving yours to let your eyes see the thick string of saliva that connected your tongues. With a flick of his tongue the string snapped, his perverted tongue gliding over his upper lip. “You taste intoxicating. You sure you’re not trying to poison me or something?” 

You couldn’t speak. Any words that tried to escape your lips couldn’t from the sheer shock of everything that was happening. All you could do was gaze up at him in awe. A slight sneer rose to his expression before he turned away with a dismissive pat and ruffle of your hair. “Your initial purpose for being here is no longer important. That’ll be all. You’re dismissed.” You blinked and swallowed thickly, shakily standing and bowing to him. Your face was purely red, utterly embarrassed and flustered by the events that transpired. The intensity of his gaze weighing in on the back of your head was truly terrifying. It felt as if he was sizing you up, studying your body and your physique to find your weak spot so that he can effectively pounce and devour you. 

He was hunting you. 

It wouldn’t be long before he would strike again. 

Mindless chatter drummed against your ears as you quietly sat in the dining hall eating your dinner. Other servants surrounded you, eating their fills of the cooks’ tireless efforts. The prince and the princess had finally set a date for their wedding, which would also be the prince's coronation. You could tell by the way he carried himself lately that he was far from being please about this. The princess couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Her eyes sparkled roaming the halls of the palace, trying to make sense of all the turns and paths to get to where she needed to go the most. The servants attempted to avoid the princess due to her ludicrous and outright psychotic requests —mostly having to deal with Prince Scaramouche. Her goals were truly sinful, and the request of you and some other female servants was all the proof of that. 

She wanted to be intimate with the prince. 

Your mind drifted back to the day he kissed you. After Prince Scaramouche had sealed his lips on yours in a heated kiss, you tried to avoid him as much as you could, but he always found a way to get you. He always threw sly and underhanded comments about you trying to avoid him or being too flustered to face him. His mouth never quit running. His fingers began to linger more on your hands when you handed him a book, his eyes following your lips and letting them lower shamelessly to stare at your chest. His scent clogged your nose, his aura dazed your mind, and his voice was like constant music to your ears, hypnotizing you to think of him and him only. It was as if he had been with you all day and all night. Even when he isn’t around it always felt like his presence was somewhere close by. 

It was obvious. 

You were starting to fall in love with him. 

A loud bang interrupted you from your thoughts. The door to the dining hall burst open, involuntarily welcoming the prince to the servants only area of freedom from work. His eyes connected with yours immediately, heated, and intense eyes glaring coldly at you. “Come to my chambers. Now!” His voice was booming and full of distaste, it was a contrast to what he had been showing you the past few weeks. The seductive and flirtatious tone he used with you was gone in this moment. Nothing but pure rage and detest radiating from his rather short frame. You rose slowly, the eyes of all the other servants following you as you walked towards him. Low murmurs were exchanged, making your expression sour which the prince took notice of quickly. “Silence! You dare to speak so casually and rudely in my presence? I should have all your heads!”

The room fell eerily silent, the only thing being heard was your quiet footsteps towards the prince. His eyes trained on you, lips forming a straight line as he had to compose himself before he started dragging you away by force. Once you were in front of the prince he turned swiftly and walked out with haste, expecting you to follow closely. You matched his stride, following behind not making a peep since it was crystal clear that the prince was in a terrible mood. The familiar narrows and curves of the hallway alerted you to where he was leading you. The intimidating thumps of his boots sounded like the raging thunder that rocked the land and haunted the dreams of children. It felt as if you were caught in the middle of a terrible storm that showed no mercy with merciless winds and crackling thunder. 

The prince swung the door open, grabbing your wrist and pulling you in with a harsh tug. A surprised gasp flew from your lips, not expecting the sudden impact when your back hit the dark wood of his door. The lock slid into place with a click as the prince’s gloved hands twisted the lock. He was quick in his movements, lips locking with yours in a passionate kiss. The leather of his gloves slid along your wrists, slowly pushing your hands up above your head until he held them there with one hand, trailing the other back down your arm to your face. A soft sigh left your mouth, your body instantly becoming weak at the prince’s dominant touch. He pulled away slowly, dark lavender eyes gazing into yours intently while his thumb grazed your cheek softly. 

“You belong to me now. I’m tired of all this bullshit. I’m no longer going to abide by their rules. Submit to me.” He muttered against your lips, his eyes staring into yours intently. Both of your hands were held by your wrists in one of his strong slender hands. A confused look spread over your face, lightly panting against his lips as he continued to press his body against yours. “W-Wait Prince Scaramouche… M-May I speak?” The prince froze hearing your hesitance to his actions. The dejected look crossing his eyes made you shiver since he was beginning to become upset. He slowly let go of your wrists, stepping away from you with a bit of reluctance. You made a shy step forward, clearing your throat and adjusting your clothes. The prince clearly didn’t like this. “P-Prince Scaramouche… may I ask what happened to have you advancing on me all of a sudden? We… we kissed before once but… y-you’re a Royal, and you’re engaged to the princess, your wedding is-“ 

“I don’t give two shits about status or that wretch.” His words were cold and harsh, practically spitting them out at you as if they were poison on his tongue. The fury in his eyes was evident, annoyance raising to his lips in a bitter sneer. “I am only with her due to my mother forcing a marriage to me. I would rather have you, than her. Haha! You’re the only one who isn’t so scared of me that you’ll actually have a normal conversation with me. Does your small brain not comprehend how lonely I must be? How your less annoying presence satiates this emptiness in my chest? How your kind words melt my heart? How you treat me like a human being?” A sorrowful frown curved onto his lips, his eyes softening in the slightest when he made another step towards you. The dazzling shines of his medals in the dim lighting reminded you again of who exactly was in front of you, admitting he wanted to be with you instead of the beautiful princess. “B-But-“ 

“Hah, enough with the back talk. I’ve already admitted that I wish to have you regardless of the situation. It’s a matter of accepting or rejecting me. What is it you want, (Y/N)? If you aren’t a coward against royalty… then accept me. I can see it in your eyes you wish to have me too.” There was no denying that yes, you did want Prince Scaramouche. He held such power, respect, and most of all, he held a soft tenderness to you. The way his expression softens and relaxes when you’re in the library with him, asking childish and innocent questions he wishes to know. Those who get close to know the prince and genuinely care will know that of his caring and curious nature. None had ever gotten to experience this. You were the first one to ever want to know the prince, and here he was, rewarding you for your kindness, your patience, and your bravery for standing in the face of a furious thunderstorm, appreciating its cool rapid winds and loud thunder. Through masked words of rudeness to shield his soul, his actions revealed what lies in his heart. “Spit it out already, I’m losing patience.”

You didn’t respond verbally to him, you only gazed at him with the gentle tenderness that lovers would exchange. Your bare hands rose slowly, letting your fingertips slide over his unblemished pale features. His skin was cool to the touch yet soft as if it had never been touched or seen by that of battle or labor. The long lashes surrounding his dark lavender eyes fluttered under your gentleness, his gloved hands coming to rest against the back of one of your own hands. Your lips grew closer to his, brushing them softly against one another before you sealed your answer with a loving kiss. The prince moved his hands along your arm, slowly coming down to settle against your waist, pulling you closer towards him in attempt to practically become one with you. His touch was desperate, hungry, and oh so feverishly nervous. Truly sinful for someone of his status. 

“Fuck…” A faint curse came from his soft pale pink lips, the color of his cheeks rising to a gorgeous rosy red. His hands came down your slowly, inching his way closer and closer to your bottom. Anxious pants left your lungs as you waited for him to firmly grab you and continue. His strong hands gripped against the plushness of your ass, groping, and kneading the curvy flesh. A low groan erupted from his chest, bringing his hand down to pull your leg up against his hip. “You’re so beautiful…” The prince’s generous praise serenaded your body to croon into him, your mind turning to mush at the simple melody of his affections. Sparks of dark lavender glimmered within his eyes; the darkness of his pupils blown out in pure desire. His sinful tongue slipped past the guard of his thin lips to slide along your neck slowly before his teeth met your skin in a mix of passion and lust. “P-Prince-“ 

“Call my name.” His lips vibrated against your flesh, his hot breath fanning against your skin threatening to leave passionate burns of his affections. A pathetic whimper sounded from your throat, your tongue testing the waters of how well his name rolled off. “S-Scaramouche…” A heated sigh leaves the royal’s lips, his body moving forward to hold you against the wall. His teeth grazed your neck hungrily, his tongue marked you possessive, and his lips caressed your heart to encourage you to yearn for him more. “Such a good girl. Always so good to me.” Both of his hands slapped against your butt and pulled you up to hold your legs around his waist, carrying you back to his bedroom. The harsh kick of his boots made the door swing open, in an instant your back was against the bed with the prince on you in mere seconds. “Tell me what you want. Tell your Prince what to do to your lewd body.” 

“S-Scaramouche… I…” The words caught in your throat as you tried to think of a way to voice your desires to the Prince of Inzauma. Your flustered appearance only spurred the prince to touch you further. His slender fingers, still encased by the smoothness of his ebony gloves, glided up the skirt of your servant’s attire. The tenderness of his touch against your thighs turned desperate quick when he started to ascend higher, getting dangerously close to your shamefully wet cunt. “Use your words, darling.” The sweetness in his tone as he cooed that sensational nickname to you was enough to let your mind finally accept what was going to happen. You looked up to him, newfound confidence, and desire in your eyes. Of course, he noticed immediately with a satisfied smile, his tongue coming to lick his lips seductively. “Please, Scaramouche… touch me more.” 

“Hah, fuck…!” His lips crashed down on yours again, his hands making quick work go grab your thighs and part them, placing himself between them. The heat of his body scorched yours, a light sweat coating your forehead as his touches got all the more sinful. His tongue flicked and swirled against your own before he grabbed your jaw and pulled away from your lips, forcing you to keep your mouth open. Without so much as a breath, he spat in your mouth, sending a shiver down your spine as his spit mushed around on your tongue. “Swallow it.” His tone was no longer sweet and loving, it was demanding, lustful, seductive, and oh so lewd. You did as he instructed, swallowing his spit with a flustered squirm. The gorgeous shimmer of his canines came to your hazy view, his teeth snatching the leather on the tip of his finger and pulling his glove off with his teeth. God his hands were just absolutely gorgeous. “Good girl. You still want more, right?” 

You nod anxiously. A dark chuckle rumbled his chest, his gloves discarded to now feverishly unbutton the front of your shirt. “Good answer. Now sit back… and let your divine Prince take care of you.” His fingers brushed over your skin when he pushed your shirt open, dark lavender irises landing on the raggedy white bra you wore. While he was enjoying the delicious view, his lips turned downwards into scowl at the condition of your undergarment. “Tsk, we’ll have to change this if you are to become my woman. I’ll make sure you’re dressed in the most exquisite lingerie mora can buy.” A soft moan echoed into his ears once his hands made contact with your breasts, smooth hands kneading your tender mounds. The pads of his fingers teased your flesh, lightly dipping into the front of your bra and sliding his hand down to pinch your nipple. “Hmm! P-Prince Scaramouche…!” 

The uncomfortable push of your shambled bra from his fingers was nothing compared to the bliss you experienced under his hot touch. “Have you ever been touched like this before?” It was clear from the look in his eyes that he was searching for a particular answer. He begged you to say no, begged that he was the only man that’s ever touched you. It was possessive, jealous, and pitiful the way he gnawed at his lower lip waiting for your answer. “Mmph, no you’re, hah, t-the first Scaramouche.” His irksome scowl twisted into a cocky grin, the heaviness of his eyelids coming down to hold his vision. He was now solely focused on making you feel the best. “Good. Then let my touch be carved into that dumb brain of yours. Moan till your hearts content, darling.” 

His fingers pulled away slowly, his hands coming to push your bra up and over your head instead of unclipping it. This action made you realize that the brave and often times egotistical prince was also inexperienced. You would’ve never guessed due to his personality. Every act he did he did with the utmost confidence as if he’d rehearsed every scenario imaginable. The cloudy gaze he set on your chest was intense, his pupils blown out in pure lustful devotion to your body. Every swell and curve of your breasts had him mesmerized. The cute little erection of your nipples, the darker pigmentation of your areolas, and the slight jiggle they had whenever you shifted about. He quickly found himself becoming obsessed with the sight, imagination running wild with all the lewd things he could do. How would they look covered in his cum? Scratch that, maybe some lovely purple hickeys? Nah, what about some red blotchy bite marks? 

Fuck, he wants it all! 

“S-Scaramouche?” The sound of your flustered voice broke him from the bewitched state he had suffered when looking at your bare chest. A rosy blush spread over your cheeks; hands shaky at your sides wanting to cover yourself from his unwavering gaze. He let out a small, amused chuckle. “What? Can I not admire your body? I am a prince after all… I should be able to admire my things when I please.” His lips descended, landing on your collar bone only to cascade down to give wet kisses along the swells of your chest. His tongue came around your areola, flicking up to nudge your erected nipples. “Hmm!” You flinched upon the sudden action, lips coming up set in a firm line while your eyebrows scrunched in silenced pleasure. He repeated this action, earning another small flinch accompanied by a hushed whimper. “You’re so cute when you try to hide your voice from me. We’ll see how long you can keep that up.”

The prince moved his bare hands along the sides of your waist, catching under your skirt and pulling the frilled fabric down to expose the lace of your panties. The pads of his elegantly slender fingers glided easily over your skin, giving your legs chilly goosebumps at his touch. His index and middle finger slid from your skin to the sensational folds of your clothed cunt, rubbing slowly to ease his way between them. “Heh, look how wet you are… that’s incredibly lewd of you, (Y/N).” The grin on his face widened once he saw your face contort in quivering ecstasy as his fingertips teased at your folds. His middle finger found your puffy clit, rubbing back and forth slowly. Your back arched with a gasp at the sudden action, limbs twitching while your lip found its way between your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t you dare try to hold back those pretty moans. Let everyone hear you. Let them know how well I pleasure you, princess.” 

The prince relished in the way your body squirmed underneath him. It was always something he unconsciously loved. Dominating others and controlling every aspect over them. Discomfort boiled within the prince’s groin, his cock twitching feeling his fingertips becoming damp with your slick that was overflowing from your lovely cunt. He quickly withdrew one of his hands from your body, hastily unbuckling his pants to relieve the strain against his hard cock. “What do you want, darling? Tell your master what you fucking want!” His fingers encased your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves between his fingertips until your back was arching, head throwing back into the exquisite silk of the prince’s bed. “Scaramouche! P-Please… I-I can’t-! Want-! Ngh… I want more!” A cocky smirk plastered across the thin pale lips of the prince, his fingers now hooking on the side of your panties to pull them aside and slide his fingers up and down your wet folds. “Tsk, Tsk, not good enough. Be more specific.” Heavy lustful breaths poured from your mouth, your throat already dry and your heart beginning to hammer against your chest. “F-Fingers, hah, inside please…” 

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, I’ll indulge you for our first time… don’t expect the same treatment in the future now, darling.” With a sensationally fluid movement, the prince’s fingers embedded themselves into your warm cunt, walls fluttered tight at the sudden intrusion. A flustered and surprised gasp spewed from your lips, thighs shaking slightly at the god-like structure of his fingers. With his other hand, he grabbed your hand and guided it to rest against the tight bulge against his undergarments, his heavy arousal. A relieved sigh escaped from his lungs, groaning deeply at the contact against his cock. “Rub it if you want more. Hurry.” Desperation was laced within his hushed tone, hips bucking lightly into your hand to feel the electrifying friction of your hand on his erection. “C’mon, baby… fucking rub it.”

With a shy blush, you started to move your hand loosely around his cock, earning a low groan at the feathery touch. A satisfied grin spread onto his swollen pale lips feeling your cunt squeeze on his fingers. “What? You like jerking me off, darling? That’s… hah, incredibly lewd of you, fuck.” Scaramouche leaned over you, jaw clenched when your fingers kept loosely brushing over his tip over and over again. His fingers hooked inside of you, thrusting them deep causing your grip to tighten in surprise on his cock. You both moaned in unison, enjoying each other’s sinful touch. The prince bucked his hips into your hand, matching indigo brows furrowing at the lovely warmth around his twitching arousal. “Such a good girl. Always so, hah, obedient for me even like this.” 

“S-Scaramouche... hmm.” His fingers eagerly fucked your dripping cunt with purpose. His eyes were trained on your sinful expressions, fingers spreading to stretch out your walls. The friction of your fingers against his tip caused him to hunch over at a rapid approach to his release. “Stop.” Your hand immediately retracted upon hearing his order, worried you possibly hurt him or did something to cause him pain. Scaramouche pulled his fingers from you, not missing the small whimper that vibrated your throat as emptiness was all you were left with. Seeing such a worried expression, the prince laughed and kissed your forehead before bringing his fingers to his lips. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m just… too eager to have you right now.” A dark look of lust covered his eyes, devilish tongue coming to flick over his fingers and taste your juices. The flustered expression on your face was rewarding. Once his fingers were clean, he shrugged off his clothes, letting your eyes wander around the physique of the prince's slender tone body until your eyes trained on his erection before embarrassingly looking back into his dark lavender eyes. “Heh, think you can handle it?” 

An audible gulp echoed from your throat. 

“Y-Yes…” A small snicker came from the flashy Prince. He guided his hands along your thighs, spreading them wide open to your embarrassment. Scaramouche licked his lips at the view of you beneath him, cheeks faintly pink, drunk off the feeling of lust and your beautiful features. You belonged there. In his arms underneath him, obediently letting him do as he pleased. His one and only princess forever. “Oh? Yeah? Well…” Something wet and firm rubbed over your entrance, making your eyes snap down to identify what it was even though you knew what it was. A grin spread over his face and with one fluid movement, his cock was sheathed snuggly inside your warm and inviting cunt. A low groan ripped from his chest, sighing loudly in relief and pleasure at the blissful feeling. “Let’s see if you can keep up, darling.”

It hurt at first, his cock stretching your walls past their usual limits. Your face scrunched in pain, your lungs clawing for air as the sudden invasion left you breathless and panting. Scaramouche’s hips rutted into yours slow and firm, heavy balls slapping against the plush of your ass while his fingers dug bruises into your waist. “Shh, just… hah, bear with it for a bit.” After a few shallow thrusts, your walls got used to the feeling of being stretch and the pain twisted and melted into sinful pleasure. A soft moan was all Scaramouche needed to know you were feeling good. His hips began to buck harsher into yours. With grit teeth and furrowed brows, he growled out lowly. “You’re so fucking tight. Hah, shit.”

“Hmm, Scaramouche, hah, it’s so… deep, hngh!” Your head threw back into the expensive sheets of the prince’s bed. Your hands darted up to his toned shoulders, clutching onto him for dear life as his cock drilled deeper. The mushy head of his erection kissed against your cervix, making stars appear in your vision. Nothing had ever felt this good before, it was addicting, like a drug that once you start you could never stop. Scaramouche was too good. “Shit, shit… Agh…!” Strands of soft indigo rested against your sweaty forehead, warm breath fanning repeatedly over your face as the prince got closer to your face panting. Your lashes fluttered, black overtaking your vision as you solely focused on the pace of his hips and the swollen plush of his lips against yours. His pace became harsher and quicker, forcing loud and unabashed moans to flow into his mouth to swallow for him and him only. “You feeling good, darling? Hah, tell me how fucking good it feels, ngh.”

“It feels so -hah!- so good Scaramouche! So good! T-Too… much, ahh!” An unfamiliar feeling began to build in your abdomen, it was tight and hot. Your fingers dug into the unmarked flesh of his shoulders, embarrassed eyes slowly opening to look up at the prince. His eyes connected with yours instantly, a storm of indigo and deep lavender swirled within his irises, threatening to destroy your whole being with his overwhelming lust and affection. It was such a turn on to make eye contact with him while he was massaging your velvety insides with his thick cock. He leaned down and sealed your lips with his own once more, his pace faltering and a groan reverberating onto your lips as his orgasm grew closer and closer. “Shit, I’m gonna cum… Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming! Gah, damnit!”

“Scaramouche wait-! Ahh! Wait, wait- Mmm!!” Your toes curled and your back arched off the bed, a cry of your new lover’s name leaving your swollen abused lips. A creamy ring surrounded his cock, your juices making lewd squelching noises as his cock slid in and out of you so nicely. With an increasingly sloppy pace, the prince stilled on top of you, his body trembling slightly before letting out a flurry of pleasured curses. A warm gush flooded your insides, and you could feel the tip of his cock twitching wildly as his cum sputtered into your core. A shiver ran down your spine feeling so full inside, all of it was just so… blissful and overwhelming. You both sat there trying to catch your breath until Scaramouche's voice cut through the air. “(Y/N).” His voice was low and heaving as he called out to you. Your eyes could barely stay open anymore with how tired your love making had been. “Yes, Prin- Scaramouche…?”

“…You’ll be my Queen, won’t you?” With a loving smile, you leaned up gently and kiss his warm cheek. “Of course, without a doubt.” The prince snorted and flicked your forehead. “Good. Not as if I would let you say no to begin with.” 

The prince was a cruel and selfish man, but he was also kind.

"Time for me to go out and find the truth. So long, suckers!"

-Scaramouche

[this-isnt-how-you-play-the-game]

a little sparrow told me itd be a good idea to post a tier list on this blog. to "keep the hoes on their toes", as one might put it. to fill in the empty space between my next and last artpost. any way, heres if and how i think most of your favorite mother characters may pick their noses.

heres a little guide on the tiers for those who are curious for the societal connotations they deliver

"how the fuck do i answer this": how the fuck do i answer this

"their nostrils are always clear no matter what": theyre either performing witch craft or on drugs

"NEVER cleans their nose even when its clogged to shit like lardna's arteries": those influenced by society. whether they seek approval from someone, or were once nose pickers who were scolded into abandoning their occupation just to fit in with the crowd. maybe they view it as a challenge. they think their campaign is impressive. reggie doesnt qualify for any of these things i dont currently know what his goals are

"uses tissue to clear nose sometimes": the "professionals" in this list. and sometimes, the innocent. those who were supposedly "raised properly." they perpetuate society's cycle, possibly not even knowing that most people do indeed pick their nose. they want to be accepted. there may even be someone in their life whom they so dearly want to protect from the nose picking epidemic. but its no use. their efforts are for naught, and they dont know the tricks and schemes others are using to keep similar status to them whilst still picking their noses

"picks nose in private": cunning deceivers. they usually have a front to show in order to keep their renowned spot in society. some of them may even see it as a game. some of them dont even know the malicious effects of their own actions, but continue anyway because they think theyre setting a good example

"was actually scratching their nose": the outcasts of society. they dont pick their noses but they might not judge others for doing so unlike the more puritan private pickers or the image-concerned fake-scratchers. they understand how the nose picking business works fundamentally, and for that they are accused of being a part of it. their knowledge is their downfall. and then some of them are kind of just here

"picks nose in public but pretends to scratch it": deceivers and the majority. tch. poetic. as you can see these people perpetuate a cycle of repressing the long-running struggle of nose picking. while not all malicious save for a few, these ones give into the temptation unlike their private-picker counterparts. some of them dont even care if they are thought to be picking their nose. they do it under the guise of "if you can hide it, then why not." they do things not because its meaningful, but because they can. others have a reason, and there isnt necessarily one size fits all explanation for this particular tier, but its worthy to note that not all of these people are quite "normies" as one may put it either. some may even be former nose-scratchers who realized there was no point in resisting the urge if people are gonna think theyre nose pickers anyway.

"picks nose in broad daylight and its gross": the loud minority. the bad outliers in the nose picking community. these people are inconsiderate and graceless. the difference in this and the next tier is comparable to the difference between a girl who poops and a girl who shits. they pick their noses, but they dont see the value in it as an art. they do it to convenience themselves, because they bare just as much temptation as the ones who refrain from picking their noses just to mesh with the crowd.

"picks nose in broad daylight but its a power move": those who have a statement to make. these people are well aware of the societal connotations that come with picking your nose in front of a crowd-- they do not care. they have the style and grace to get away with it. they are powerful and untouchable. they know this, and this they can pick their nose knowing no one can do anything to stop them. some of these people may be a little demonic. a representation of the antichrist, one might say. or maybe they are ahead of the curb, and everyone is struggling to catch up with them. they are the people most nose pickers-- secretive and outspoken, look up to

"picks your nose for you and condescendingly shows it in your face, saying "aw, what pathetic boogers you have"": these ones have ascended all tiers in the nose picking scale save for a few. they live above it all. theyre the reason most are scared to pick their nose in the first place. why would you when youre at risk of having pathetic boogers. their prey normally lie between scratch-pretenders and normal scratchers. some people in these tiers are immune to the judgment of the four in this tier. but it does not make them any less foreboding to the vulnerable. these people are the reason the "people who never pick their nose in spite of it being clogged" tier exists. giegue also probably goes here oops its too late for me to change that

"picks nose and eats it": beings who do not abide by normal human laws

"picks your nose and eats it": malicious beings who do not abide by normal human laws

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Slice of Life (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

a six to a nine (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: phil has some doubts about his new haircut but dan helps to reassure him in his own way

all night revival (ao3) - Fictropes

Summary: now there’s half a bottle of gin missing from the shelf.

and my heart's already sinned. (ao3) - gesticulationbubble

Summary: Phil had put the idea in Dan's head. A baking video like never before. He should've known he'd regret it, based on how quickly Dan agreed to it, and the smirk that immediately appeared on his face. But it was too late to back out. Especially now that he was standing in the kitchen, feeling embarrassingly stupid just thinking of Dan all dressed up for him.

This was a bad idea. This was DEFINITELY a bad idea.

(Or, Phil asks Dan to dress as Sister Daniel for their return to Halloween Baking. Chaos ensues. Also Dan has feelings (tm) about his uncloseted freedom and Phil loves him for it.)

Chips (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan struggling with the concept that all healthy couples should fight.

dan buys a skirt (ao3) - baroquen

Summary: Dan is thinking about buying a skirt. Phil thinks this is a very good idea.

Dan and Phil vs the Pantomime (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Phil surprises Dan with tickets to a Christmas pantomime.

Gentle (ao3) - Lesbianphan

Summary: Phil doesn't really look at photos of their faces that much. Truthfully, there's only so many gifs and videos of people pointing out how utterly hopelessly in love you and your partner look at each other that you can actually absorb into your brain. Phil's brain feels like mush sometimes, with the amount of feeling right there, displayed for the world to see. This livestream was special though - in so many ways, - and he found himself transfixed by the animated images of Dan's gentle touching of his face, feeling some kind of cosmic shift happening on screen, the realization on the tip of his tongue. Just a fluffy thinkpiece on their current content, and all the little moments they decided to share with their audience these past few months.

happy twink death (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Phil celebrates his 37th birthday.

I'd like to hang out with you (for my whole life) (ao3) - bunnyslipper

Summary: Mornings in the forever home (featuring the golden pig)

In Case I Never Said (ao3) - ahappyphil

Summary: “I think you’re my soulmate too by the way”

it's amazing that you care (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: phil is having one of his dizzy spells whilst dan is on tour in america

late night talking (ao3) - theloveofbees

Summary: it surely wasn’t the weirdest thing phil had caught dan doing in their thirteen years of knowing each other, but it was up there.

or it's the summer before dan's tour and they talk on the floor of their office.

mischief in our eyes (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Random scenes throughout the filming of the 2023 Halloween baking video.

Naughty! Do Not Eat (ao3) - talentisntgenius

Summary: Why Dan Had To Call an Ambulance but it's parent!DnP

pancakes + syrup (ao3) - indistinct_echo

Summary: “Are my nostrils deceiving me?” Phil asks, still out of Dan’s line of sight.

Dan blinks, looks down at the pancakes, now almost ready to be flipped, and then back at the Phil-less space. “No?”

pyjama week (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil enjoy a relaxing day during their annual Pyjama Week.

The Re-Birth of Gamingmas (ao3) - Ippyhaj

Summary: Dan and Phil go out for coffee and Phil convinces Dan to re-open the Gaming Channel.

They fade to nothing when I look at him (ao3) - phasamtasie

Summary: Arriving in the kitchen Phil made himself his one cup of coffee he allowed himself on weekend days and stared out the window lost in thought, so it took him a few seconds to register why the light had seemed so much brighter than usual at 8am. With childish delight he saw that it had snowed overnight, and not just the usual UK dusting where one could still see the grass underneath but a proper snow, coating everything outside in a bright white.

OR

Dan and Phil go sledging.

to be known so deeply (ao3) - kissthemisfits

Summary: Seasons change, summer ends.

too soft for all of it (ao3) - theloveofbees

Summary: phil loves dan, and he loves dan's hair.

loosely based on phil's tweet on 26 march 2023.

We balance each other out on the seesaw of life (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil had dragged Dan to Isle of Man after his return home from tour. The sea air would do him good (even if it gave him hobbit hair) and he could be surrounded by Phil's family (who were his family too). He hadn’t actively planned to drag him onto a seesaw on a playground but it turned out to be a precious moment all the same.

we never change (ao3) - nivi_chip

Summary: different decade same laundry problems

Welcome home! (never leave that long again) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan comes home from tour and stumbles right into Phil’s arms. He is more touch starved than he’d realised.

What are the odds? (ao3) - spacedaisjes

Summary: What are the odds that youtuber-duo Dan and Phil choose the same restaurant as you, at a table close to yours, on the exact day you decide to go out for dinner instead of bringing takeaway to your hotel room like you had done the previous nights. I'm guessing the odds are slim, but they surely aren't zero, regardless of how much I suck at maths.

However, what I do know is this; Odds are that Autumn indeed did book a flight to London in early March. They could've gone to Berlin, Paris, Amsterdam, somewhere she had not been before, but fact is that they chose London. And they are grateful that they did.

when... (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: A fic about hypothetical future dogs.

[darling-answers]

I BEG YOU Ana Amari with a injured reader, maybe she sick or dying of a illness idk just make it angst, I saw that talk about wanting more Ana Amari fanfic so idk I feel like letting people suffer and cry.

“ oh Gibraltar were had the time gone?”

This will be pre-fall I would like to say when Overwatch was still in best working order, just right after the omnic crisis

Warning! There may be inaccurate deceive of AML, I have done my best at researching the topic but doesn’t me my accuracy on knowing aml is good because I have never experienced before. Ana may be a little off topic because no matter what, you should always respect the choice of someone body. Death! Is implied and mention. this isn’t a happy ending. Blood! Is mentioned, noise and mouth bleeding Mentions, Oppression and violence. There also mention of symptoms of cancer effects with chemotherapy, chemotherapy is mentioned multiple times. Fainting is mentioned

Thank you for all who reads my stories and showed there support i appreciate it greatly

REQUEST ARE OPEN I WRITE FOR VENTURE TOO SO SEND THEM SOME LOVE.

The warning signs were there but you couldn’t expect it to get this bad? how could anyone know how bad it gotten when it just happened. Being a overwatch agent and putting civilians as your top priority before your own health problems wasn’t uncommon. It comes with you being a soldier and wanting to do what right. Sticking up for the weak even if it comes with your own life. So why must this situation be different.

The First warning sign happen when you were out on a mission to help civilians who may have been lost or trapped under the rubble, it was going according to plan, nothing seem out of the ordinary until the next thing you had known was blood was coming from your nostrils and mouth. Wiping it off on your sleeve painting it with fresh blood made it easy to forget about, it could happen to anyone so why must your situation be different, there still civilians need help, so pick yourself up soldier and help the others, You tell yourself over and over again.

Helping civilians get to safety and back to there family had made you smile, but the comfort of the ship that would be leading you back to your home and the people you call family is just a different feeling. When sitting down in your designated seat, Reinhardt was right infront of you, talking (yelling.) about how well his mission did, talking about the tiny children who he got to flex his arms to. Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes carried on their conversation about the on going crisis in the rest of the world, torbjorn talked about his family showing Reinhardt picture of his newly born daughter Brigitte but always the mother hen Ana had taken notice of the blood.

“ habibati, where did such blood come from? Had there been anyone seriously injured? On the catalog I did not seen any reports of very serious injuries?” She mumbles setting her sniper down, the way the sniper aim was up relaxing in the wall of the aircraft, safety was on and the eye of the pistol was up. She leans over to grab the coat of your overwatch outfit and taken a look of the sleeve.

“ I’m fine Ana, I promise, there is nothing to worry about just some blood no need to fuss.” She gave you a serious look Almost crinkling her brows. “ you tell me if anything is wrong. Alright? I want you to be alright.” She looks serious pointing a finger before she lets go from the topic when she felt satisfied.

The Second warning came when in training with Cassidy, you felt you’re whole body zap out of energy, the room was so dizzy and fussy, your brain felt slow and sluggish, you’re arms and legs felt like a ice about to melt into a puddle. Your body gave up and slammed itself to the ground. Waking up in the infirmary with Angela Ziegler talking about your body and health, noticing the way your body seems to be weaker than before. You lost incredible amount of weight which for a normal person would feel happy about it, the weight your body was dropping was to dangerous to not start trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

“ i thought you would’ve told me if something was wrong. The fact you tried hiding it makes me think it might be time i took over your position and put you’re mission on hold until i feel everything is better.” Ana mumbled kissing your forehead as she gently placed her hand on the top of your head.

Angela returned with a chart, writing your vitals and simple questions she have asked you such as, how long have these symptoms been going on, how severe have these conditions been. She clicked her pin shut as she looked up from her notes. “ if you don’t mind I would like to request and recommend we run a few test on you. I’m thinking running a Blood test on you, we will be analyzing it using a microscopic evaluation of the blood, or by using flow cytometry to try and figure. This will all be done if we get your consent so would you mind if we do this?” Angela tilt her head at the last part as she hears the exact words she needs to hear to start preparing for the blood samples.

After gathering the blood sample, she sends you and Ana on your way as she tells you the test results will need 2-3 weeks to be able to fully confirm the diagnosis. Ana made sure throughout the week to make sure that you would rest and not strain your already fragile condition. Every night Ana would lay in bed making sure her arms were around your body and start whispering stuff in Arabic. More symptoms started popping up which caused Ana to get worried even worse than before. Bruising would form out of nowhere not even you could remember how you got those bruises, night sweats became one of the worse causing the lack of sleep, hot flashes and the urge to not eat anything were evidence that something definitely wasn’t right.

“ Oh, how I know it hurts habibati, let’s try and get some rest.” She would mumbles as she made sure the bed only have loose sheets. The way you could barely hold down anything or even get out of bed made her concerns grow even worse. Sometimes you would wake up with her right besides you and other times you were alone in bed. Days and nights started to blur in your memory as you laid in bed, not being able to fully move or walk without assistance.

“ we have gotten the test results back and it might be best. If you sit down ana this is difficult for both of you.” Angela pulled up a chair and sat down in a chair crossing her legs as she looks over at Ana then comes back to you. “ after throughly examining the changes in you’re body we have confirm the diagnosis of you have a form of leukemia that is very hard to treat. It is called Acute myelogenous leukemia. It a common aggressive form of leukemia that affects your bone marrow and blood.”

The face of exhaustion from you and the horror of Ana Face was like no other, how long had it been since you see Ana so hopeless..? This isn’t what you wanted to see.

“ There is good news and bad news, we may be able to start treatment to help fight off the leukemia but with the illness being around the bone marrow most medicines may not be able to reach the place the leukemia is resting, it may be long and hard but you have some chance of survival if you would like to start that I can get it prepared.”

“ What are the chances of me surviving..? I don’t want to live my life in fear that this illness will come back, I don’t want the exhaustion and agonizing treatments, I don’t want to be stuck in a hospital wasting away the only time I get pure entertainment is if someone come visit me. Please Ana, i’m scared and I don’t want to leave you alone but I don’t want to deal with this heartache.” She clutched her wife hand as she leans over weakly giving a kiss to her wife forehead as she comes to rest her sweaty face on that of her wife.

“ I have seen a lot of people survive AML and I also scene some who not, a man in December survive the AML with a few rounds of chemo and some rehabilitation and now he living his life with a wife and few kids. I’ve also scene some people not wish to fight this agonizing battle. So why I might not suggest not taking treatments I will accept whatever you would like us to do.”

Angela Zeigler nodded her head towards you before looking at Ana, Ana somberly looked at the hands which were neatly folded in her. The struggle to make the choice or even express agreement or disagreement weigh ever on her shoulders. “ if you would not like to start chemo and pass away in your home with me and our family by your side I will respect your wishes. I’m so sorry you were even given these choices.” Ana closed her eyes and cried in her hands chocking out her answers as she leans to rest her head on your shoulder.

“ don’t cry Ana, this battle has been long and hard, I was given a purpose on earth and that was to protect the people around me, I made my choice and now I may be rest in the peace of the afterlife knowing I have saved lives. You have to be strong for Pharah and Overwatch.”

The weakly smiles that adores both you and Ana face made it way to accept the idea more easily. The decision to not go and do chemo was not selfish in the eyes of Ana, she knew of the effects of chemo, Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, Hair loss, Skin dryness and rashes the effects almost seem limitless.

“ so if I’m to confirm You ( state your name.) are refusing to take chemotherapy, which may have help you live a few years longer. You understand the negative side effects that may come with this. You may also always come back to wanting to do chemotherapy but the more you wait the more will not be likely to have the cancer be eradicated.”

Ana looked over and nodded at you, “ I will accept whatever you say or think. Please speak what you need to.” Ana looked into your eyes. “ I accept to refusing treatment for chemotherapy and know the harms and risk that may come and the outcome.” The weakly sound of coughing finishing off the statement.

“ alright, I will notify strike commander to take you off of all mission briefs and when you are ready please notify whoever you would like about what the future is going forward.” Mercy nodded politely leaving you and Ana alone in the room. Ana looked over at you, brushing your cheekbone as the weak sound of raspy breath came in and out. “ Thank you for letting me have a choice, I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t sure the outcome would be the same.”

Ana nodded to your words helping you settle in bed. She weakly clutches the clothing near her heart as she looks at you. She tried to take a deep breath as to not let the tears follow but it getting harder looking at your weak state. She started walking towards the door to give you room only to be stopped by the croak of a voice. “ Ana…” Ana turned around and looked at you walking over and kneeling down near your bed side.

“ I love you and Pharah so much.” You mumbles as Ana whisper some words of praise before getting up and leaving the room. Days become even more of a blur as your visited by most of Overwatch agents besides a few. Even Moira O’Deorain made her presence known as she commands great respect and recognition for how you saved lives and great combat skills.

The day came, one year and a day after you first got the symptoms of something wrong that you passed peacefully by your besides, laying beside you was Ana who was on your left. Pharah who birthday just came a few weeks ago making her 10 and one of your best friends who also supported you think through thin, Reinhardt. A day that would’ve been sad wasn’t sad, they knew you would of beat there ass if you found out they weren’t lighting up the party with some shots as you’re lowered into your casket. Your funeral which played one of your favorite songs, “Dreaming of you” by Selena Quintanilla was a mother and daughter dance for ana and pharah.

You were given a gravesite with the soldiers who had fallen in the war adored with flowers and so much love and care from military units all across the world. Some left Quarters, some left penny, dimes and nickels. You were known around the world and a statue as a memorial in your home town was placed to honor the dedication you had to fighting for what right and standing up for communities who may have been oppressed.

As time gone on and the state of Overwatch went into shambles Winston recalled woke up a different side in Overwatch agents, instead of doing stuff how Jack Morrison would do, the Overwatch hero’s knew who to look up to in the end.

Pharah looking up into the sky hoping that maybe she would see you there looking down and protecting her.

[ash1kun]

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【THE BETRAIL】

➤ CONTROL

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TW:  HEAVY GORE, BLOOD, EYE MUTILATION

Ash Matsumi's Point of view

I continued to fight the celestial guards, stabbing my staff through a few of them.

I then notice two familiar faces meet with mine.

Nezha and Redson went to the main entrance to see who the culprit was, It was none other than Ash Matsumi who had been fighting with the guards for a while now. 

"Lavender Princex!?" Redson called out as he was stunned and shocked to find Ash Matsumi.

"Hm... I thought Ash was our friend..." Nezha joined in as he looked at the ground feeling utter despair but willing to defeat Ash Matsumi.

i laugh macanicaly as my staff plunges through one of the gaurds throat

Nezha's eyes widened in shock and horror as he watched Ash Matsumi brutally impale one of the guards with their staff. Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering across the pristine white marble floors of the Celestial Palace. The guard gurgled and choked, collapsing to the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of crimson.

"Ash Matsumi, what are you doing?!" Nezha demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"This is the Celestial Realm! How dare you attack us like this!"

Redson's face twisted into a snarl, his red hair flickering with small flames of rage.

"You traitorous snake! We thought you were our friend! What happened to you?!"

The air crackled with tension as the two former companions faced off against their childhood friend turned enemy.

i walk to both of them slowly with an unhinged smile

Nezha stepped forward, his hand reaching for his Fire Wheels. The divine weapons hummed with power, ready to unleash their fiery might upon the traitorous Ash Matsumi.

"-oh nezha.. your so.. useless"i say as hold his face with my bloody hand "but oh how ive missed that smile.. so pure..just like i was.."

Nezha recoiled in disgust as Ash's blood-soaked hand grasped his face, the coppery scent filling his nostrils. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses, a mix of anger and betrayal burning within them.

"How dare you, Ash Matsumi!" Nezha growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I am no longer the naive child you once knew. I have grown stronger, and I will not tolerate your treachery!"

With a swift motion, Nezha brought his Fire Wheels to life, the divine weapons spinning at his feet and leaving trails of crackling flames in their wake. The air around him shimmered with heat, the very fabric of reality warping under the intense energy.

"You may have deceived us once, but never again," Nezha declared, his gaze locked onto Ash's unhinged smile.

"Prepare yourself, Ash Matsumi. Today, you will face the consequences of your actions!"

Redson, meanwhile, had been watching the confrontation with growing fury. His horns gleamed in the flickering light of Nezha's Fire Wheels, and his bull tail lashed behind him, a clear sign of his agitation.

I back up laughing, placing my bloody driping hand over my now tear filled face,"y-you're right.. i really am a discrase right..?"

Nezha's eyes widened as he saw the tears streaming down Ash's face, mingling with the blood that dripped from their hand. For a moment, he hesitated, his resolve wavering in the face of his childhood friend's apparent emotional breakdown.

"Ash, what's happening to you?" Nezha asked.

"i.."My left eye started flickering a blue light and i cover it with my bloody hand before whimpering.

Nezha's heart clenched as he saw the distress in Ash's eyes, the flickering blue light from their left eye sending a chill down his spine. Despite the blood and tears that stained their face, he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for his childhood friend.

"Ash, please," Nezha pleaded, his voice softening, "tell us what's wrong. We want to help you."

A blue light figure, telepoted next to me,"why are you heasitating, you know what has to be done or have you forgotten..?"the figure says before grabbing my staff and pluging it through my left eye where the blue light was flickering from.

*Kinda like this picture but it was through their eye instead*

"Maybe ill help you on this one.."

Nezha's eyes widened in horror as the mysterious blue figure appeared beside Ash, its form flickering with an otherworldly energy. Before he could react, the figure grabbed Ash's staff and plunged it directly into their left eye, the source of the eerie blue light.

"No!" Nezha cried out, his voice echoing through the Celestial Palace. He lunged forward, his Fire Wheels spinning at incredible speeds as he tried to reach Ash before it was too late.

Redson, too, was taken aback by the sudden turn of events. His red hair blazed with flames of fury as he watched the scene unfold, his demonic nature bristling at the sight of such brutality.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

i got back up but my right eye was fully blue with light and my other eye... well all there is is a whole. my smile was unhinged as shit. the blue figure laughed"now lets see what you can do now that your fully under my control"

Nezha stared in abject horror as Ash rose to their feet, their right eye now pulsing with an eerie blue light while the left socket gaped empty, a trickle of blood running down their cheek. The unhinged grin stretching across their face sent chills racing down Nezha's spine.

"By the gods, what have you done to Ash?!" Nezha cried out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and outrage. He clenched his fists, the Fire Wheels at his feet spinning faster, crackling with barely restrained power.

Redson, too, was shaken to his core. He had never seen anything like this before, the complete subjugation of one's will. His demonic pride rebelled at the thought of anyone, even a friend, being reduced to a mere puppet.

"Release Ash at once, you fiend!" Redson snarled, his bull tail lashing furiously behind him. Flames danced along his horns and the tips of his fingers as he prepared to unleash his fire magic upon the mysterious blue figure.

"i dont think i can do that, but if you want them back.. well you have to go past them to kill me.. and i dont think you want to hurt your friend.."

Nezha's heart raced as he stared at the twisted version of his childhood friend, the blue light pulsing in Ash's eye sending a shiver down his spine. He knew he had to act fast, but the thought of harming Ash, even in this corrupted state, made his stomach churn with unease.

"Ash, please, fight it!" Nezha pleaded, his voice strained with desperation.

"You're stronger than whatever has taken control of you. Don't let this happen!"

Redson, meanwhile, had been watching the exchange with growing frustration. His demonic pride bristled at the idea of being manipulated, and he couldn't stand the thought of Ash being used as a pawn in someone else's game.

"Enough of this!" Redson growled, his voice dripping with contempt.

"You may have Ash under your spell, but you'll have to go through us if you want to keep them that way!"

With a roar of fury, Redson unleashed a torrent of flames from his hands

i jumped at them, knocking redson down to the ground holding him there

Nezha watched in horror as Ash lunged at Redson, pinning the demon prince to the ground with inhuman strength. Redson struggled beneath Ash's grip, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and rage, but he couldn't break free.

"Ash, stop this!" Nezha cried out, his voice trembling with desperation. "This isn't you! Fight whatever has taken control of you!"

But Ash just grinned, the blue light in their eye pulsing brighter as they tightened their hold on Redson. Nezha knew he had to act fast, or his friend might be lost forever.

With a surge of determination, Nezha raised his Fire Wheels, the divine weapons spinning faster and faster until they were nothing but a blur of flame. He took a deep breath, focusing his energy, and then launched himself at Ash with a thunderous battle cry.

"FIRE WHEELS OF THE HEAVENS!" Nezha shouted, slamming his feet into Ash with all his might. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, and for a moment, Ash's grip on Redson loosened.

i was seant to the wall crashing through it, they could hear my blood curdling scream.

Nezha and Redson stared in shock as Ash's body crashed through the wall, their bloodcurdling scream echoing through the Celestial Palace. For a moment, neither of them moved, their minds reeling from the sudden turn of events.

"Ash..." Nezha whispered, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. He took a tentative step towards the hole in the wall, his heart pounding in his chest.

they see me get up from the wall and their was burns on my body and cuts, but i was still under the blue lights control

Nezha's eyes widened in shock as Ash emerged from the rubble, their body covered in burns and cuts, but still standing despite the devastating impact. The blue light in their eye pulsed even brighter now, and Nezha could feel the malevolent energy radiating from their childhood friend.

"Ash, please, you have to fight this!" Nezha pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation. He took a hesitant step forward, his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. "Whatever has taken control of you, you can overcome it. You're stronger than this!"

Redson, meanwhile, had regained his footing and was eyeing Ash warily. His demonic nature bristled at the sight of such corruption, and he knew they had to act fast before Ash was lost forever.

"Listen, Ash," Redson growled, his voice low and intense, "I know you're in there somewhere. You've always been a pain in my ass, but you're no one's puppet. So snap out of it, already!"

The two allies stood side by side, their differences momentarily forgotten in the face of this greater threat. They knew they had to find a way to break through the blue light's hold on Ash, or risk losing their friend forever.

the blue light appeared behind me this time putting their hand through the whole in my eye"oh such a beutiful.. wound, would you like more ash...?"

Nezha's blood ran cold as the sinister blue figure materialized behind Ash, its spectral hand emerging from the gaping hole where Ash's eye once was. The malevolent entity's voice sent shivers down his spine, and he felt a surge of protective rage rising within him.

"Get away from Ash, you vile creature!" Nezha roared, his Fire Wheels blazing to life with renewed intensity. He launched himself at the blue figure, his spear transforming into a barrage of razor-sharp lotus petals.

Redson, too, was spurred into action by the grotesque sight. His red hair blazed with flames of fury as he unleashed a torrent of demonic fire at the blue entity. "You won't take Ash from us, you bastard!"

The Celestial Palace shook with the force of their combined assault, the very air crackling with the mingled energies of heavenly and infernal magic. Nezha and Redson fought with all their might.

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【THE LAVENDER PRINCEX】

➤ START...

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[codfanficedits]

Final Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley & Reader

Summary: You are Death.

Wordcount: 2710| Rating: M (18+ only!)

Warnings: MW3 SPOILERS

A/N: Different colours to identify dialogue better, my shit has been flopping again and my brain can't handle the lack of dopamine.

Part 3/4.

Simon Riley. You had been following the man ever since he was born. There had been times where he had been ready to leave this earth, only to be pulled back by Life on the last second.

It would be a lie if it wouldn’t make you question whether or not it would be ethical to keep certain people alive. But that wasn’t up to you to judge after all.

Even after he escaped the horror that was his childhood home, death seemed to follow Simon, his hand never steered clear from the blood that stained him.

But this time? This time it was different.

Simon couldn’t cope with the death of Gaz and Soap, leaving him a broken mess. But Simon was taught that feelings, emotions should be hidden inside, piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

So Simon did what he knew best, copying the coping skill of his father, empty bottles piling up just like the feelings piled up inside of him. Whiskey replacing the companionship that his friends no longer could give them, the burning sensation of the liquid making him feel alive, a feeling he thought he didn’t need anymore, but he felt himself craving it, chasing it.

And of course people around him were worried, John tried to talk to him, John had seen this way too often before. Soldiers not being able to cope with the loss, turning to the poison that roamed this earth, alcohol, drugs and self-destruction in the from of women. And John had tried to stop it, tried to warn him, but Simon was a grown man, capable of making his own choices, no matter how destructive.

You knew you had promises Soap and Gaz that Simon wouldn’t drink himself to death, and with the amount of liquor he was pumping into his system, you almost got the feeling you had been lying.

But Simon would bounce back from the alcohol abuse, with the help of his captain that is.

It had been a day like any other, Simon would try to focus on his work, his mind already on the numbing temptation of the liquor, briefings, conversations, details, they would all go past him like a blur while he tried to deceive the people around him. And usually after a day of work, he would lock himself into his quarters, drinking until he forgot his fallen teammates.

“A word.” John’s voice is loud, a little too loud for Simon’s liking.

“About what?”

“You.”

“What is there about me?”

“Why did you join the army?”’

You watch, slightly amused at the low blow John just spat out.

“Don’t you fu-“

“Answer my fucking question, Simon. Why did you join the fucking army.”

And you can tell Simon is struggling to answer that question, hell he doesn’t want to answer that question, because that would mean he could no longer pretend he wasn’t following his fathers footsteps.

“I joined to escape home.”

“And why did you have to escape home?”

“Because my father was an abusive alcoholic.”

“Then tell me, Simon, why the fuck are you turning into your father?”

“Bullshit John.”

“Bullshit? You think you’re sleek, only bringing away the bottles in the early morning. Do you think we really don’t hear the clinking of the glass while you wander these halls? Do you really think no one can smell it on your breath?”

“You don’t get it.”

You had seen John often enough to recognize the subtle anger in his face, flaring nostrils, a slight raise of his brows, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t get it?”

“You have no idea how much their death affected me.”

“I have no idea because you shut yourself out and rather poison yourself.” John spat back at him.

“You have no idea what I have been through Captain, and I would strongly advice you stray away to this topic.”

“You’re right. I did not have your upbringing, and I do wish you dad had healed before he came your father, but you do not get to tell me about grief.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am affected too. I was the one who asked Soap to come with me to Makarov, I was the one who approved Gaz going on that mission. And I can’t let you drink yourself to death, Simon. I will not be responsible for your death too.”

Both men are silent, straying into territory they are not used too, at least not with each other. Both men had been told that their emotions were forbidden, that emotions should not be on display for others to see.

But you could see their hurt souls, their broken souls, needing the company of each other. John is the first to give in. Holding his arms open and Simon clings on for dear life.

“God fucking damnit boy, get your shit together, that is an order.”

“I forget then when I’m drunk enough.”

“I know. But forgetting them isn’t the way to go. You shouldn’t forget them, celebrate their life because they no longer can.”

“I will, Captain.”

“Good.” John let go off him, giving him a rough pat on his back. “Do you need anything from me, the military?”

“A little time off.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay all by yourself? I can get a therapist for you if you want.”

“I would like that.”

“Good. Now, get some rest, I’ll pull some strings to get you someone to talk to.”

“Thanks Cap, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

Something was off, something was different, and John couldn’t really put his finger on it, but decided to not press any further. He had nagged Simon long enough and it felt as if his point had come across  good enough.

Simon on the other hand, felt a calm feeling he hadn’t experienced before. A decision crossing his mind when he gripped his sink, tears streaming down his face when he recognized his father in the mirror. Simon knew he wouldn’t be strong to recover, he had become an alcoholic, just like his father.

“Fuck!” His fist slams the mirror, the second one this year, blood running down his arm while he takes in the freedom the pain gives him. His mind is only giving him one solution, the emotions, his grief, the craving to alcohol, they’re making it impossible to think straight.

Simons scribbles something down on a piece of paper. Before he takes a deep breath and looks around his room. John had been right, Simon thought it had alle been under control, but he was lying to himself, the half full bottles being the proof of that, but not anymore, not any longer.

He takes place in his own bathtub, a piece of glass gripped tightly in his right hand. You know what is about to happen and this is always your least favourite part.

He doesn’t drink himself to death.

Tears blur his vision when the sharp material pierces his skin, dragging down. He doesn’t even register the pain, all he can feel is the peace and quiet his mind gives him. So he does it again, and again, going deeper each time.

His head tilts back and he drops the shard of glass, causing it to shatter on the ground.

It stays silent, the only sound is his blood dripping on the floor of the bathtub. Life is nowhere to be seen, and you know this is his end. In a split second you make a decision.

The universe had been too unkind to Simon already, the least you could do was to make sure he didn’t have to die alone.

“Hello.”

“What the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in?” His eyes snap open and his head snaps back to face you.

“I am Death.”

“Did I die already?”

“Not yet.”

“Than why the fuck are you here?”

“Because this will kill you, and I did not want you to die alone.”

“Well thanks for your concern but I don’t need your pity.”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

You chuckle softly. “I guided them too.”

His face softens. “How.. What.. What did they say?”

“Soap was pissed off, Gaz was worried he had let his mother down.”

“Sounds like them.”

“It is nearly your time, Simon.”

“Will the pain stop?”

“When you’re dead? Yes, yes the pain will stop.”

“I can’t wait to be pain free.”

“Tell me about your favourite memory?”

“Of what?”

“Anything you please.”

Simon has to think for a little while.

“My brother.” He eventually starts. “Had gotten a part time job, and he needed to give the money to our father, but he had hidden his first pay check. So when our father was passed out on the couch again, we snuck out.” A smile forms on his face.

“We bought a cake, one of those fancy ones with a lot of frosting. We ate it in the skatepark where we used to hangout a lot. I ate so much cake I couldn’t stand it for the longest time afterwards. But for the time that it took for us to eat that cake, we were happy, not a care in the world, just loads of sugar and each other.”

He hadn’t noticed yet, but the shackles of life had fallen off during his story, setting him free of his mortal pain.

“I miss him.”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“How’s the pain, Simon?”

“Which pa- Oh fuck.”

You watch as he gets up from the bathtub, looking at his body, he died smiling, his eyes closed, almost looking happy.

“You deserved better.”

“I did.” He agrees.

Simon clears his throat. “So what now? You take me to hell and I’ll burn for eternity?”

“Why would you burn in hell?”

“I am a soldier, I killed people. People who deserved it, and people who might not have deserved it.”

“And that is equal to eternal suffering?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Don’t you think you have suffered enough?”

His face turns pale, the words slowly sinking in while he recalls his whole life.

“So there is no hell for me?” his voice is a soft whisper.

“There is no hell for you.”

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck I was so scared for hell, that had been the only thing holding me back from killing myself earlier.”

“So” He looks at his body again. “What would be next?”

“Once you are ready, I’ll take you to the afterlife.”

“How do I know I’ll be ready?”

“You’ll feel it.”

“I don’t feel it yet.”

“Then you can stay with me.”

He nods, liking the answers that you’ve given him. “I have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Can I ask them?”

 “Of course. I’ll answer them if I have the answer.”

“How do you know which soul to reap?”

“I just know.”

“Okay, and now you are here with me, does that mean no one else dies on the world.”

“If that was the case a lot of deaths would’ve been postponed.” You answer. “I can split myself into fragments, therefor I am able to reap multiple souls.”

“How did you, you know, get into this profession?”

“I was created to be Death. It is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know.”

“Hm.” His eyes shift to his body again.

“What is the afterlife, and who will be there?”

“Everyone will be there, every soul goes to the afterlife, and you’ll reconnect with the souls that love you.”

Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, he wants to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Simon?” John’s ruff voice sounds.

“Can I answer him?”

“Afraid not.”

“Simon!” the knocking returns. “I swear to God.” John mutters, as he opens the door to Simon’s room. “If you have been drinking again.”

John looks around the room, and you and Simon watch him do so. John’s gaze fall on the piece of paper, his face turning pale. “God fucking damnit.” The paper falls on the ground, slowly twirling in the air before it gently settles down.

‘this isn’t your fault.’ Even though you knew what would be on the letter your eyes automatically shift to the words on the white paper.

Johns open the door to Simon’s bathroom, and he just stand in the door opening, taking in the dead body of his teammate. “God damn it, Simon.” He repeats. “You could’ve talked to me you know.”

John moves over to the body, taking in the smile on Simon’s face. “At least you were happy.” John mutters.

His hands reach for Simon’s dog tags, taking one of the chain to add to his own. John’s fingertips rest on Simon’s cheek for a brief moment. “I hope death treats you better than life.”

Simon looks at you. “You do.”

“Thank you.”

“Will the Captain be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I feel bad, for leaving him behind, for doing this.”

“He’ll understand, and when his time will come too, I’ll tell him about you.”

“Thank you.”

Simon looks at his feet. “I don’t know if you can do this, but I want to visit Johnny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to the Scottish Highlands, to the place where we set his ashes free.”

You hold out your hand to him. “I’ll take you there.”

Simon’s eyes light up as he takes your hand into his, and before he can blink twice, you’ve transported the both of you to the exact same place.

“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” Simon says, as he sits down on the exact same spot where Johnny had sat down, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that their souls are happy together in another universe.

You go to sit down next to him. “It is beautiful here.”

The both of you sit in silence, you know Simon wants to ask you something, a question burning within him ever since John had interrupted, but you’re not filling anything in, letting Simon come to you when he is ready.

“You mentioned something about souls and love.” Simon eventually says.

“I did.”

“Who will be waiting for me?”

A faint hint of a smile can be seen on your face.

“More than you’ll expect.”

“Tommy?”

You just nod and Simon let out a shaky breath.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ve missed him terribly. Who else?”

“Tommy, Beth, Joseph, your mother. Roach. Gaz, Soap. They will all be there.”

“Will they be mad for what I did?”

“They love you too much to be mad.”

“I’ve known more love death, than I’ve done alive.”

You turn to look at him. “I know, and I am sorry.”

“Is there anything I had done to deserve such a life?”

You want to wince, flinch at his words, but it is a fair question.

“No. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair when it gives somebody a course of life. You were a child, Simon. What happened to you, should’ve never happened, not to you, not to anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re brave.” You add. “You’ve survived something you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place.”

“How do you cope with it?” Simon asks.

“With what?”

“The unfairness?”

You let out a sigh. “It is hard. Sometimes I have to guide innocent souls to the afterlife, souls I would have wished had a long and sweet life. And sometimes I see souls who I felt deserved death a long time ago. Unfortunately I cannot change the course of the universe, nor can I change the free will of humans.”

“Do you feel remorse?”

“No. I am no mortal, nor do I possess mortal feelings. I do however acknowledge the unfairness of certain situations.”

“I see. It is hard for me to imagine.”

“I get that.”

“Hey Death?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Do you promise that they will be waiting for me in the afterlife?”

“I promise.”

Simon holds out his hand to you. “Then please, let me see them again.”

[raayllum]

The Queen’s Mercy Breakdown Analysis / Predictions

Bloodline that Binds card from out-of-context S5 spoilers is definitely about Karim and Janai being the two heirs that can presumably free Kim’Dael from her chain(s). I think that Karim will barter / hire Kim’Dael to assassinate his sister (or, if she cannot harm descendants of Aditi at all, Amaya) under the deal of freeing her afterwards. Therefore, I have a feeling that this screencap

is Amaya, Callum, and most importantly, Rayla, encountering Kim’Dael in her initial attack

(Also, given that we’ve had a short story entitled “The Queen’s Soul” for Khessa and “The Queen’s Mercy” for Aditi, it seems likely Janai will get a tale named after her at one point as well, as she’s currently the only Sunfire queen without.)

This also brings our “characters in S5 who are seeking Freedom” tally up to like, five, now that it’s Callum (from Aaravos), Rayla (for Callum & the coins), Viren (from Aaravos’ machinations, most likely), Aaravos (from prison), and finally Kim’Dael from Aditi’s golden blood oath chain. How’s that for layering

Specifically Kim’Dael and Aaravos both being imprisoned with, well, very different kinds of keys tethered to each of them

The sharp circlet of gold had sealed itself around her neck without an edge, without a latch, without a lock. 

(Flashbacks to Amaya’s “I don’t believe in locks” lmao). 

We also see the return of deceptive gift giving and promises under the guise of protection or unclear terms. Aaravos was a betrayer who was then betrayed; Rayla was a liar who then revealed one (Claudia); Kim’Dael is a deceiver who’s then deceived, etc etc.

Also in addition to the storm symbolism / pattern the marketing and S5 has been pushing, the Heart Motif (specifically a heart as vulnerability or truth) continues to be more and more consistent, featuring now in every short story’s release and making me believe more and more in my “the Key of Aaravos is Aaravos’ heart/chest piece” theory

Fools. They might as well have held their own hearts, beating and bloody, in the palms of their hands. Kim’dael knew that if she showed them her heart—or something convincingly like it—the Sunfire elves would do exactly what she wanted them to do.

Zubeia flew through its torrents until her wings ached, but she could not find the tempest’s edge nor the quiet heart at its center. [...] The hurt in her chest deepened. “But I am so tired. I’ve walked so far alone.” “You are stronger than this. All storms end!” Rex rumbled a snort through flared nostrils. “What lies at its heart?” 

Lissa had left her years ago, but the space she had owned in Claudia’s heart remained. It was a dark place now, hard and hateful, its edges raw as a wound that had forgotten to heal.

While one may say it ends with a sunrise, another will insist it ends at nightfall. Yet at the heart of the story is a single, simple truth…A star fell from the sky.

I remember how I felt when my parents left me to join the Dragonguard, like PART OF MY HEART WAS MISSING and I would never feel right again. [...] But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me!

Also more Kim’Dael parallels to Rayla and Aaravos not only in aforementioned heart symbolism (“My heart for Xadia”) but also in being likewise the last of their kind(s) / specific groups, and exiled/hunted for it as well. There’s also the way Rayla’s mercy doomed her team and “ Mercy would be the queen’s death someday, she thought—but that, of course, was none of her concern” even if it of course doesn’t come to fruition quite the way she expects

We have Harrow’s “we will pay the blood price eventually” coming true quite literally, as well as questions of why Aditi chose to keep Kim’Dael as a personal murder pet over just killing her (which she clearly could’ve done) when Aditi’s chain clearly isn’t enough to stop Kim’Dael from committing crimes in the future, either.

Last but not least we have Callum and Kim’Dael parallels in terms of literal (or metaphorical) chains around the neck, an inability to breathe, being brought to their knees, etc. 

[vera-king-hrfl]

Ignore the context. This is part of a future chapter of my novel. @dark-and-kawaii gave us such a delicious treat that I wanted to share this bit. I call it Infernal Viagra.

In Raphael’s boudoir once more. In circumstances which, in your darkest dreams, you’d never imagined you’d find yourself. The slave of a Devil, his property. Raphael’s plaything. You wonder if this charming, dark eyed man would hit you as well. He said he would not damage you, but you reflect that you’ve taken a staggering amount of abuse in the past year without any permanent injury. Your smooth pale skin does not even hold scars. You stand, head down, trying not to shake as the fiend stands at your back, running his hands down your bare arms. He caresses your scales, as Zevlor does, and you feel tears prick your eyes.

He leans down to kiss the side of your neck above the collar, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his pelvis against your bottom. Hands moving over you, clutching, kneading, pulling you back, and it seems as if he’s straining for something. His fingers fist in your hair, dragging your head back, running his tongue across, your neck with a growl. You shudder, unable even to seek the detachment of the cold. It is worth the cost to save him, you tell yourself. You had agreed to this, for that purpose. You are not being assaulted, you are paying a small price to bring your husband back from the dead. You close your eyes, forcing the faces of Zevlor and Gortash from your mind and remembering the words of your grandfather, his instruction on how to make oneself numb to the reality of a seduction. How to convince the target that you truly desire the interaction. You allow yourself a soft moan. If you can convince Raphael, who knows you are under duress, then it will be easier to deceive the other.

“Yes, little one,” he breathes, “you are allowed to enjoy this.” It feels good, you tell yourself. His hands are strong, his mouth is warm. You slip into the role and reach back to caress his soft brown hair. He nips at your throat and you whimper a little, pressing your bottom back into his groin. Strangely, you feel nothing. He reaches down to grab your hip, pulling you tight to him, thrusting against you and growling. He rips the top of your dress down, his other hand kneading your breast. His snarl sounds almost… frustrated. Suddenly he releases you and makes a quiet sound of irritation, moving to the small cabinet beside the bed. He yanks it open and grabs a little bottle from within, turning to you with a look that seems strangely apologetic. “It’s not you, dear. You are delectable, but I am afraid I am accustomed to more… stimulation.” He uncorks the vial and downs the contents, leaving only a few drops in the bottom, then hands it to you. “You will not need as much, but this will make the proceedings more pleasant for the both of us.”

You take the bottle and frown, sniffing it. As soon as the sickly sweet scent of decay touches your nostrils you understand. Succubus spittle. A powerful aphrodisiac. The devil does not really want this either. Using your body is a means to an end for him. You almost feel sorry for him as you tilt the last few drops into your mouth… but not quite. He is a fiend, in several ways, and this is a business transaction. You feel the heat pool between your thighs immediately as the poison hits your stomach, and the intense desire blooms in your loins. He is obviously feeling the effects as well and he comes to seize you again, pressing his mouth to yours and pulling you against him. He is hard now and his lips are hungry as the remaining clothing covering you both vanishes. He feels wonderful, and desire for the devil sets your straining nerves on fire. You need not pretend any longer. You want him. He kisses you hungrily and pulls you toward the bed, laying himself down on his back against the multitude of embroidered cushions.

“Take me, little mouse. Impale yourself on me. Receive my essence and mark yourself with my scent. You want it. You’re beautiful. Do it now”

You have no choice but to comply, the desperate need spurring you onward, and you move to straddle his hips, lining him up with your center. You shove yourself down on him and start to ride him quickly, driving down onto him, wanting, needing the completion. He grips your hips and groans, squeezing  his eyes shut, jerking himself up into you, needing the release that you and only you can give him. It’s disgusting, it’s horrifying. You’re fucking the devil and you love every moment of it. It doesn’t take him long now. After a few minutes he cries out and shoots a stream of burning seed into your womb, but you keep going, not finished yet, taking him, using Raphael’s body for your own satisfaction, tilting your pelvis, clenching around him, chasing the sweet release, and, finally you feel that crisis collapse upon your heated body and you are shaking, crying, coming hard in his embrace. He endures you for a while longer, gasping, shuddering and straining to endure the intense madness of the powerful climax that you drag again and again from his body, milking him, hungry for every drop, before he is replete and shoves you off of him, and you fall trembling to the mattress, gasping for air.

Shaky, you push yourself up and roll to sit, looking at him. He’s sitting up as well, elbows on his knees, looking at you strangely. “That was more pleasurable than I expected. You were practically a virgin when I first met you, and so delightfully shy. The ridiculous Baneite that you allowed to use your body only made you more hesitant. But the tiefling… he seems to have been good for you, love.”

“He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” you growl, but he just laughs. You blow out a breath, still feeling the effects of the venom, “but surely you can do better than that. You really want this to look good? Transform. Let yourself go, teeth and claws. Mark me. Make it hurt. Be the monster that you are. It’s what Samael wants to do to me, isn’t it?” It’s too late now to stop this. His seed is already leaking from you, but you want the other devil furious, unhinged. You want him off balance enough to make a mistake, to perhaps reveal his true purpose.

He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. “Certainly it is, and I can do that. I promised not to damage you, but if that is what you really want…” The fires flare around him and he grows, his skin flooding with red, massive wings spreading from his back, horns erupting from his head. His growl is deep and dangerous as he reaches for you again with huge clawed hands.

Raphael finally loses himself in you, snarling, grunting, his talons digging into your flesh as he forces himself into you. His fangs are longer than Zevlor’s, claws sharper, cock bigger, and you grit your teeth, struggling to endure the pain. But this is what you want now. You had enjoyed riding him, and you can’t have that. You need to be ravaged, brutalized and bloody. Giving yourself to him must be an unpleasant experience, a bad memory, and surely that is what it will be now. He explodes into you again, burning your chafing walls with hot seed, and doesn’t stop, flipping you over, pulling you to your knees and slamming back inside. It’s agonizing, but you climax again and again, shaking and struggling under him. But he has no mercy on you now. He becomes that raving beast he’d denied, sinking his teeth into you, raking your skin with his claws, gripping your hair to jerk you back against him. He’s too big, he’s going to ruin you, and you smell your own blood mixed with the sulfurous musky odor of him. He goes on for quite a while, coming into you over and over, filling you until the thick load swells your womb and he finally pulls from you with a gush of fluid. “Enough!” His voice is deep and rough with effort, but he is in control of himself again.

You can’t move yet, the pain is too much, and you whimper, panting, feeling each sting of the tooth and claw marks which cover you, the sharp pain between your legs, the deep ache in your belly. He’d destroyed you more completely than Zevlor ever had, and there will be no healing this time.

Raphael laughs breathlessly and flops back onto the cushions. “If I go any farther I will kill you. You are resilient, for a mortal. I must admit, I am impressed. I had to resist a rather powerful urge to breed you.”

You cough and are able to roll painfully onto your back, gasping. “I will not be fertile for years, possibly, but... Fuck, Raphael. I may not be able to walk.”

You turn your head, wincing from the bites on your neck, but he’s grinning. “I could bring you there, little mouse. I could prepare your body with my essence. You are fortunate that I have no wish to cause such increase as that would be onerous for me, and unpleasant for you. But only imagine the manner of creature we could make, the two of us. The power…” he pauses, and you see his expression become calculating. “I wonder…” but he stops and reaches for you, and you hiss when he pulls you against his hot, broad chest. Your muscles are like water, and you lie against him uselessly, unable to protest. “I will give you a little time to recover, but you look marvelous like this. Perfect. Utterly debased and defiled. I want to call on my rival before you begin to heal. Your body closes wounds more quickly than I expected. Come, I want you to see yourself.”

You stifle a cry as he lifts you and slides from the bed, crossing to a full-length mirror on the wall nearby. He sets you on your feet, holding you so you can stand upright on your wobbly legs. The sight before you is astonishing. Wherever the scales give way to softer skin, you are marked. Large bite marks still ooze blood, and claw slashes decorate you from neck to ankle. He has even scratched your face, three long diagonal red lines passing from temple to jaw. Your inner thighs drip with blood and semen, and you are covered in darkening bruises. The grinning red devil behind you seems to enjoy the sight. “Just imagine, my pet. In a few days this will all be gone. I almost regret that I cannot keep you forever.”

[aftapati]

it's written on very expensive parchment scented in pachouli and earthy , calligraphy properly done.

Soft as willow’s brush on silk, each stroke a petal’s sigh— whose fair hand wields such tender grace, as though a maiden shy? Blush of plum in fleeting spring, so sweet your words do seem. Tell me, do you veil your name, a flower lost in dream? If fate has set our meeting thus, then let me play the part— a suitor sworn to court thee well, and steal thy guarded heart. Yet should my eyes deceive me so, and truth at last be known, still, laughter sings where plum blooms fall, and jest makes joy its throne.

( * / @malxshrine / unprompted )

Sufficiently impressed by the quality of the material delivered, in a union with the expressive scent that graced nostrils, the vision of the well constructed poem had captured his attention. Word by word offering utmost poetical delivery; few could appreciate such beauty of wordism, and Sōsuke belonged on the top of the unspoken list.

One hand was holding ever so biddably the piece of paper whilst the other hand was occupied by holding in suchlike modus a porcelain cup from its golden nuanced handle. Bringing the inaimate object that had a warm concoction poured in, right atop his lower lip, with a concise inclination, he allowed the liquid substance to run through his throat, leaving him with a bittersweet and floral aftertaste. Momentarily afterwards he would position aforementioned cup on top of the wooden surface of the table, with his eyes never diverting themselves from what was presented to him.

More than meets the eye. A phrase he was accustomed too well for a variety of reasons.

❛ Could use some improvement on the curvatures --- other than that, it is quite impressive. ❜

[ask-the-flirty-fighters]

Fighting Flirty: Character Select PT4 (Act 4.9)

"Are you ready?" Connie asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as she prepared to capture Steven's picture, continuing their photoshoot and friendly challenge.

"I'm ready, are you?" Steven replied with a grin, playfully teasing his Heartberry. "After all that reprieve, I think you deserve a drink, Bottom Berry." As he spoke, Connie's cheeks flushed a warm maroon, and she couldn't help but spread an impish grin.

"Ah, now I'm going to put you through your paces, you mischievous Mister," Connie said with determination. Her nostrils flared as she emitted a low, determined noise that was a blend between a purr and a growl.

"Uh-oh, it seems like I may have just flipped her competitive switch," Steven teased, causing Alex to giggle and watch the two of them.

"You two are wild," their photographer giggled from behind her laptop.

"Oh, I have been quite tamed," Connie stated with confidence as she lifted the camera in hand and lined up the lens crosshair. She caught sight of Steven in between them and pursed her lips in a determined smirk. "Not anymore though."

"Give me your best shot," Steven challenged eagerly.

"I will make sure you can pose correctly," Connie responded with a flirty fire. "Give me a reverse bridge."

Steven's eyes widened at the request, about to speak.

"And don't think you can distract me with those puppy brown eyes, I'm in it to win it."

Steven let out a chuckle, his eyes sparkling dangerously. "Oh, you really are something, aren't you, Connie?"

Connie winked as she began to focus the camera, capturing Steven's every move. "Of course, it's why I'm so lovable. Now Reverse Bridge, let's see that core strength." 

Connie tapped the sides of the camera as a substitution for clapping as she allowed a heartfelt giggle to escape her chest.

Steven licked his lips as he stood on his tippy toes and folded his arms as he bent backward in an arch, lowering the top of his head onto the floor. Steady and sturdy, abs tight as he holds the pose.

"Wow, nicely done," Alex stated, impressed. "Didn't think a guy of your size would be so flexible."

"Looks can be deceiving," Steven joked as Connie looked around him, looking for a good shot.

"Hmm, yes. I agree, I wonder if your bridge is as sturdy as it looks," Connie teased before sitting on his costumed stomach. Her legs crossed as she grinned, camera still in her hand. "Not too heavy, am I, Mister?"

"Never heavy, perfectly 'hearty' as always," Steven flirted as he raised his midsection a bit, enticing an impressed gasp from his 'Heartberry'.

The thin material of their costumes hardly barred the heat between the two. Steven's hard and warm gem kissed and snuggled itself into Connie's supple posterior.

"You're not being very professional," Steven responded, keeping the pose as he tried to keep his cheeks from glowing pink.

"I'm not doing anything unprofessional, just looking for the best shot."

"She says as she shuffles her hips on my stomach."

"You're at fault for being such a comfy throne," Connie snickered.

"Unprofessional."

"Just trying to motivate my model for the best shot. Hike your midsection up a bit more, Mister."

"Oh, you're really trying to make me work for it, aren't you?"

"Told you I was going to put you through your paces. Not gonna let me down, are you?" Connie said as she leaned in closer, her eyes meeting Steven's gaze. "You know, I could always stabilize you better if you just let me." A smirk played at the corners of her lips as she pulled back, giving Steven a sultry once-over.

"Oh, I don't trust that tone," Steven half-joked.

"My, oh my," Connie faked shock and insult, exaggeratedly placing her hand on her breast as she widened her eyes. "My Biscuit doesn't trust me, Alex. A decade of memories and no trust for me, his berry, his best friend, his knight, his Jambud. For shame."

"For shame indeed," Alex played along holding in her laughter as she watched them interact.

"You know I trust you with my heart, with my very life," Steven said seriously, a look of admiration and adoration in his tone steeped in affection for the woman leaning upon him. "My lovely birthday Heartberry."

"Oh, Steven." Connie mewled feeling her heart skip and her cheeks glowed a bit. 'My lovely sweet Biscuit. I swear you're the only one who makes me feel just a bit of fantastical romance,' she thought as she gave him a gentle kiss. "You're a smooth talker."

"The old universe charm," he chuckled. "But I'm still not trusting you to help." He smirked, "I know how cunning you can be, little minx. Probably gonna try to tickle me to make me fall on my back."

"Ah...hmmm."

"Oops, seems he figured you out, Nini," Alex laughed.

"That's the problem with knowing someone so long. It gets harder to trick them," Connie chuckled before getting off him and stepping back to get him in the frame.

"Well, all is fair in love and photoshoots," Connie retorted, adjusting the camera and taking a step back. Steven's amusement was infectious, and Connie couldn't help but smile at the way her heartbeat seemed to sync with his laughter. 

Click.

"Ok, that's a good shot," Connie said, standing up and checking the photo. "You can stop showing off and stand up now, Mister." Connie played as Steven allowed himself to fall flat, spread eagle, breathing a bit. "I have a new respect for models; holding the poses is hard."

"Tell me about it," Connie agreed as a thought came to her, seeing Steven spread out with a smile on his face and his eyes closed. Stepping to him and stepping over him, she positioned her legs to his sides as she readied her camera, catching his face as his eyes half opened.

Click.

"And that shot, Seven," Connie giggled, seeing his shocked and blushing face.

"I wasn't even ready," Steven half-heartedly complained.

"That's why it's a near-perfect shot: a natural look of accomplishment after a long-fought mission or a daunting task. Tired but victorious," Connie answered.

"Yeah, carrying your big 'heart' without grabbing you was taxing, to say the least."

Steven looked up at Connie, his eyes filled with a combination of mischief and admiration. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, even after all these years.

"You like my big heart, hippy."

"Never said I didn't," Steven laughed. "Though the shot doesn't really scream 'Shinji Ikari,' don't you think? A bit too positive when I'm supposed to be 'sexy depression.'"

"I mean, is Shinji Ikari...attractive really?" Alex asked.

"No, of course not," Connie answered quickly with finality. "But Steven Ikari." Connie let a small flirtatious smug grin on her lips as she shrugged as if she was considering it. 'Of course, he is, just look at how he fills out that plugsuit, Rawr! Shinji could never!' Connie thought, mentally giggling, unaware of the slightly amorous face she was making.

"Heartberry, you're getting a little lost in your fantasy there, huh?" Steven teased as he poked Connie's nose, making her back up and rub her nose tip.

"I was not, and where did you come from?"

Steven only laughed at her comment before looking at her, love in his eyes as he reached to caress her cheek.

"Hey." Connie nuzzled his palm, basking in his touch and their bond. "Being all affectionate isn't gonna save you."

"Oh, I'm sure you have something planned to break me. Give me your best shot, Heartberry."

"Oh, I will." Connie kissed his palm. "Just don't regret it."

Steven gulped, seeing her passionate and determined black eyes burn with impish mischief. He watched as Connie walked away and behind the desk to get a steel folding chair. She returned it and placed it behind him.

"Sit, since you wanna be Shinji so much," she commanded with a grin, looking at Steven's confused expression.

"What?" Both Alex and Steven wondered where Connie was going with this as Steven did as he was told.

"Now then," Connie began as she positioned Steven in the pose she wanted. Alex watched with wide eyes as Connie put Steven's knees together and giggled as she folded Steven's hands together and put them on his knees. She straight up guffawed with laughter as Connie lowered his head and buried his hands almost in a fetal condition.

"Now, get in the robot, Steven."

"Oh my god!" Alex howled in laughter at Connie's words and impression of Gendo Ikari.

"That wasn't even in that episode!" Steven yelled, trying to hold back his laughter. "You got me in a meme! You're memeing me."

"As a great ninja once said, 'Memes are the DNA of the Soul,'" Connie reiterated with a faux sage tone.

"Based," Alex agreed.

"Disgraced. Monsoon should never be quoted," Steven retorted.

"Well, if you can't meme your partner, who can you meme, right?" Connie smirked before her cheeks burned at her own words.

"What?" Steven began to raise his head.

"Keep your head down," she ordered, putting his head back down quickly. "Gotta take your shot."

Her soft voice tingled his ears as her hand rubbed his scalp and black curly locks. A look of cherished affection on her face as she gently removed her hand and moved back to get Steven in her camera crosshairs. Giggling at how cute and hilarious the scene looked. Unaware of the pink-faced grin on her Mister's face.

Click.