#reposted from my ao3

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

A Devil's Secret Wingman: Vergil x G/N Reader

APPARENTLY, I NEVER POSTED THIS HERE; I WROTE THIS BACK IN MARCH OF 2023 LMFAO WHAT THE FUCK--

SUMMARY: As time has gone on, random appearances from a certain blue apparition happened more and more. A part of you wonders why but you had never dared to ask Vergil; however, the sly blue ghostly devil had a different plan in store.

BEGINNING NOTES: I don’t know why I really like the idea of Vergil in yoga pants right now; I just do. Also when Doppel shakes their upper half; I am imagining something similar to a bird fluffing its feathers. Yes, I know that Vergil + Dante’s DT/Sin DTs don’t have feathers but I feel like they’d still do it; plus it would make Vergil’s (Sin Trigger) shoulder pauldrons move according to how they work on the concept art page. 💝🩵💝 Vergil x G/N Reader Unestablished relationship Some good ol’ fluff

==

INSPIRED BY:

A Doppelganger's Projection--By: DevilSwordVergil

Devil's Advocate--By: LadyMuzzMuzz

These are both super cute and I love them ngl

==

     Visitations from a certain bright blue apparition had become a regular occurrence when you visited the Devil May Cry. It didn't typically matter what was going on; night or day, before or after a job--as long as you were alone, the glowing blue devil would make time to see you. At first, you thought that Vergil had been doing this to keep an eye on you while he was up in his room; however, as time went by, you realized that Vergil didn’t even have to be awake for Doppel to appear--sometimes you'd even get a visit when Vergil was out and about. It had become a part of your routine, one which you reveled in greatly.

     Today was no exception. 

     Vergil and you were on “shop duty”, being tasked with the monotonous secretary work of (the) Devil May Cry. Everyone else had various contracts to complete or were on vacation; leaving you and the blue twin alone for an undisclosed amount of time.

     You sighed heavily, “I’m so fucking bored…” you leaned forward in the desk chair and set your head on the desk with a small thunk. 

     It had been nearly three hours and there wasn’t a single phone call or walk-in; it was as dead as dead can be. A part of you had hoped that Vergil might join you downstairs for a while, maybe even a long while; but, you hadn’t seen nor heard from the Dark Slayer all day. Which was fine, it’s not like the two of you don’t see each other all the time, but you couldn’t help but yearn to be near him--even if it just meant that you were occupying the same room. 

     A small joyful chirping caught your attention. You tilted your head up slightly and stared from the tops of your eyes. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was the blue ghostly doppelgänger that you expected to visit at some point.

     You picked your head up. Placing your elbow on the desk and resting your chin in your palm, you flashed them a bright beaming smile, “Hey Doppel, come to join me?”

     Although you knew that the devil couldn’t speak, you would talk to them as if they were able to respond; which to be fair they technically could. Your smile widened as they wiggled a bit, a sign that you'd learned meant they were happy or in agreement. The devil approached you and stood in front of the desk with a tilted head. 

     “Wanna sit with me?” you smiled as you sat up and watched Doppel wriggle faster, spreading their wings slightly in excitement, “Alright,” you stood from the chair.

     With a loud scrapping sound, you moved the coffee table out from in front of the pleather couch--making sure to give the devil enough room. With a playful huff and bounce, you sat on the couch.

     The sound of their claws daintily clicking on the hardwood floor made you giggle in amusement. They stood in front of the couch before tilting their head once more.

     “What?” you watched their hands as they gestured along the couch, asking you to lay down, “Oh? Okay, sure..?” 

     It was a bit odd since they had never asked for that before but you did as you were asked. With a curious tilt to your brow, you watched as the devil sat above you, straddling your legs. If this had been the real Vergil, you surely would’ve been crushed to death by now; thankfully, Doppel (typically) weighed almost nothing. Another laugh left your lips as you watched the dangerous devil knead into your chest with both his hands, emitting a thunderous purr; reminding you of a cat. Meanwhile, you gently ran your hands along the devil's body.

     After a minute or two, they carefully laid on top of you; encompassing you entirely. You smiled as you nestled your face into (where there typically would be) grey scales above their blue V. Carefully, they rubbed the underside of their chin against the top of your head. Between the heat and the vibrations of their purrs, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep; forgetting all about your shop work. 

     Nearly an hour later, you were still sleeping happily with the blue devil doing the same. However, a different blue devil had come downstairs to check on you; worried that you hadn’t answered the shop's phone several times. Now, he could only stare at the sight before him. 

     The sight of you, his partner and secret romantic interest, being smothered by his own duplicate. Doppel noticed Vergil’s sudden appearance and curiously turned their head towards him. 

     With a large and envious scowl, Vergil snapped his fingers in an attempt to de-summon the blue apparition but was only met with a small wiggling motion in defiance. This movement was enough to stir you awake.

     Only having your eyes half open, you mumbled to your ghostly cuddle-bug, “Somethin’ wrong Doppel?”

     They looked down at you and back to Vergil. You turned your head to the side and became pale at the sight of Doppel’s owner. Vergil had moved further into the room and stood next to the desk with folded arms. A small blush spread across your face upon seeing his oddly casual apparel; a pair of semi-form-fitting black yoga pants and his typical turtlenecked dark blue vest. Upon seeing that you noticed Vergil, Doppel took their leave with a small chirp of happiness. 

     Vergil swallowed audibly and looked away from your eyes, a small amount of pink pricked at his features--embarrassed about this situation, “Forgive me, I was unaware of their summoning,” his voice was meek and caught you off guard.

     You smiled as you sat up, “Don’t worry about it… If I’m honest,” you placed a hand on the back of your neck awkwardly, “I actually enjoy these little visits.”

     “This- This has happened before?” Vergil’s gaze turned back to you filled with concern and confusion.

     “Yeah..?” you cocked your head slightly, “Haven’t you been sending Doppel to stay with me?”

     The twin looked at you with parted lips and wide-eyed expression; telling you that your assumption was far from correct. 

     Before you were able to question him more, Vergil went back up the stairs and holed himself back up in his room. 

     “Shit,” a loud sigh left your lips as you flung your head backwards, hitting the crown of your head on the back cushions; fearing that this would somehow bite you in the ass later.

     You waited a while to see if Vergil would come back downstairs and were disappointed when he didn’t. Another heavy sigh left your lips as you stood up from the couch and tended to your assigned work.

     After that was completed, you quickly became bored again and looked around for something to bide your time. That’s when you realized how dirty the DMC had become making you scrunch your face in disgust. So, you decided to take upon the hefty maid work and got to it. 

     Three hours of exhausting scrubbing and cleaning later, you flopped face down on the sofa, satisfied with your work. Slowly, you felt the warm gentle hold of sleep taking hold of you or was it something else? Before you could question it too much, you fell back asleep.

     After a half hour or so, you tried to turn over and felt something stop you. Irritatedly, you opened your eyes and noticed luminescent wings and arms wrapped around you. It seemed that Doppel had not only returned to you but was sleeping on top of you. 

     “Doppel?” you whispered and got a small tail wag in response, “Can you let me up?”

     They looked at you for a moment, presumably in thought, then slid off you. You sat up and let out a low groan as you stretched your arms upwards, cracking your back. The large devil sat facing you with crisscrossed legs, reminding you of how juvenile the ghost acted in comparison to its master.

     With a small laugh, you turned to put one leg up on the couch, “So… What’s with you? I hear that you’ve been visiting me without permission?” you cocked your head curiously.

     The blue devil chirped in affirmation.

     "Why?" 

     Doppel’s tail gently moved to point at your chest before laying it on your lap. Carefully, you pet the sharp scales; giving extra care to go pet down the tail so you didn’t slice your hand. 

     “My chest, huh?” you shook your head with a faint smile, “I don’t understand.”

     The light blue figure cocked its head slightly before shaking its upper body with a loud chirp. Then, they took their hands and fumbled with them for a moment, before they made a crude heart shape with their fingers. 

     With pursed lips and a furrowed brow, you huffed quietly in confusion, “A heart?” the blue devil shook with another loud chirp--indicating that you were correct, “What..? You just love spending time with me or something?” admittedly, you found that idea to be adorable.

     Doppel looked over and stared at the staircase; which you copied. 

     “Wait,” you froze and looked at Doppel with wide eyes, “You mean that Vergil-?”

     A third loud chirp came from them as they wriggled in place. 

     With parted lips, you tried to come up with a response. However, before you were able, Doppel sat on their knees, still on the couch, and poked your chest with their finger this time. 

     “Are you asking if I..?” your voice was hushed as Doppel wiggled a bit, “Oh, well- I,” you stumbled over your thoughts and words. Admittedly, you’d never said it out loud before or told anyone about how you felt for the older brother; despite the incessant pestering of Nico and Dante, “Yeah, I-” a small smile tugged at your lips as you sighed contently, “I do love Vergil.”

     The blue apparition carefully cupped your face within its hands and made an odd purring chirp noise; one you’d never heard before. They continued to purr afterwards and just stared into your eyes. That’s when you realized what Doppel was asking you to do.

     “No way,” you shook your head slightly, still confined by the devil’s hands, “I can’t tell him. Do you know how much he’d hate me over something--” 

     Another loud chirping purr cut you off; this time, however, Doppel wriggled harder and spread their wings out in clear disagreement.

     “You sure about this?” you whispered as you felt them squish your face closer together, making you scrunch up, “Alright- Alright, I’ll go,” Doppel let go of your face as you laughed nervously.

     A deep nervous feeling grew in your gut as you stood up and slowly ascended the stairs, with Doppel following suit. Once in front of Vergil’s door, you stopped and looked over at the apparition with pursed lips. Doppel decided to force things along further and knocked loudly on the door for you, making you cuss loudly at the ghostly devil. 

     The door opened and Vergil stood there with a raised brow; however, before he spoke, he noticed his Doppelgänger standing beside you. 

     “What- How?!” Vergil’s voice was angry as he glared at the blue ghost.

     Doppel straightened their posture with a curious tilt of their head. 

     The eldest twin’s lip twitched in irritation at their counterpart.

     Meekly, you broke Vergil’s death glare at the apparition, “Hey, could we,” you shrugged with one shoulder, “talk for a minute?”

     Vergil eyed you up and down, “Fine, give me a moment,” with that, he turned back into his room and shut the door. 

     You turned to Doppel and became increasingly confused. They were ruffling their top half with their wings wide spread and their tail flicking around.

     “What’s up with you?” you were unsure if they were excited or angry.

     The ghost looked at you and patted the top of your head, still wriggling around.

     With a small shake of your head, you smirked a wide smile at them, “You’re quite excited, huh?”

     Before they could give a clear response, Vergil’s bedroom door opened again. 

     The twin sighed and moved to the side, “You may enter.”

     “Are you sure you want me in your room? You never--”

     “Yes.”

     With a coy nod, you smiled, “Okay, thank you.”

     Vergil gave you a flat smile and shut the door as he watched Doppel wave to him and then fade. 

     A heavy sigh came from the twin as he stood facing the door for a moment, attempting to hide his growing nervousness. Vergil turned to face you and took a few steps closer. The two of you awkwardly stood in the middle of the open space. Admittedly, the eldest son’s room was rather plain; only having essential items, a few bookshelves, and a small desk. 

     “It’s nice in here,” you smiled and avoided his piercing gaze, “it’s very well-kempt; a reflection of its inhabitant.”

     Although Vergil was flattered by your compliment, he was uncomfortable by someone else’s presence in his space; making his tone rather snappy, “What do you want?”

     You pursed your lips and shrank down into yourself, taking his tone as a bad sign, “Doppel told me something, and I--” you shot a glance at him and noticed his brow was furrowed, “I was made to come up here to talk with you.”

     “Speak then.”

     “Well,” you bit your tongue, “you know what, never mind; just forget this happened,” with your tail between your legs, you attempted to retreat and leave, when you felt him grab your forearm.

     Without turning to you, Vergil spoke in a hushed tone, “No, I want to hear what you have to say.”

     A sigh left your nose as you turned your head to the side, looking at the side profile of the stone-faced man, “Promise you won’t be mad?”

     Vergil copied your action, turning his head to face you, “Fine.”

     Your heart rate spiked as you locked eyes with his icy eyes and a small blush dusted your face. Vergil released his hold on your arm and turned fully to see you with folded arms. 

     You looked away from him again and tensed up as you whispered, “Doppel wanted me to tell you about how,” with a scrunched face, you braced for the worst, “I have feelings for you.”

     His voice was sharp and he squinted his eyes, “What kind of feelings ?”

     With a barely audible voice and a small nervous laugh, you answered, “Romantic ones…”

     The room fell silent. A thick uncomfortable tension hung in the air as Vergil just stared at you. If he had stabbed you with the Yamato or scoffed in response; that would have been preferable then him just standing completely still and silent. A part of you wanted to bolt out the door and just run from this, but you were frozen in fear.

     “Is that your version of a confession?”

     Unable to look at him, you nodded.

     Vergil’s stare softened and he let out a gentle sigh, “Let me guess,” slowly, he approached you and stopped only a few inches from you, “my doppelgänger told you about my own feelings then?”

     With another small nod, you focused on his boots that had come into view.

     “Then may I ask why you were hesitant to tell me..?”

     You whispered, “I figure Doppel was just messing with me.”

     Vergil gave a flat smile. Gently he set his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting you up for him to see. Neither of you spoke as he slowly ran his thumb over your parted lips, making your face turn a few shades darker. Eventually, you met his gaze and noticed his expression had softened greatly; the first time you’d seen him this mellow. 

     Vergil whispered as he stared down at your lips, “May I..?” 

     You gave a small grin, “Of course.”

     With a very slow and careful lean, Vergil connected his mouth to yours. You sheepishly placed your hands on his sides, making him push a bit harder into the kiss. His lips were broiling hot as he slowly moved his lips against yours. After a few moments, Vergil broke the kiss off and leaned back enough to look you over; attempting to gauge your response. A small smile tugged at your lips and you noticed that Vergil had the same expression. 

     He moved his hand to rest on the side of your jaw, gently thumbing over your cheekbone, “I assume that was proof enough?”

     Curious as to how he would respond, you inched toward him and cocked your head slightly, “Mnm, I dunno; think I might need another just to be sure.”

     He shyly looked down and leaned back into you, intertwining once more. This time, however, Vergil made sure to pour everything he had into the kiss. Quickly, he moved both hands to your waist and pulled you tight to his body, making you squeak in surprise. Using this to his advantage, he pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

     After a few minutes of fervourous kissing, the two of you broke apart, breathing heavily. Vergil gently nuzzled against the side of your neck and placed sweet kisses along it; very quietly purring. 

     While the two of you were enjoying each other's embrace, a loud yell from downstairs caught your attention, it seems that Dante had returned. However, when you tried to separate from Vergil, he pulled you closer.

     “Stay, my brother can wait,” his voice was laden with a thick husky seduction as he continued to kiss down your neck, “I’m not done showing you how much I love you.”

==

ENDING NOTES: Is it weird for me to hyperlink stories that inspired my chapters or not? This is a genuine question--I don't want to seem weird, but I want to give credit where credit is due.

==

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[lloydlings]

FABRIC

by me (flyingdutchman on AO3)

A one shot about Lloyd’s importance in the universe and his element in the very life.

“Your place is in the Fabric of the Universe”

Lloyd has always known his role, tying into the closely knit threads. Threads that span all of Ninjago, and now the sixteen realms. For he knew it in his youth, where he clinged to the feeling in the air, the frequency of his friends, the glow in his chest.

The power he holds.

The power he holds is not a normal one. It is not easily describable, nor is it describable at all. It's living, breathing, competent, strong. It speaks for him when he has nothing to say. It burns a fire that nothing can quell, even not himself.

It feels un-attached, acting of his own force and capability. Making decisions for him that he'd rather control himself. But that is his power. It's not normal.

As the boy has grown older, so has his power grown with him. He knows himself to be a grandson of a godly being, no matter how harsh, or no matter how interceptive it can be. Sometimes he wishes that not to be the case. For when his anger rises like a fierce tidal wave that only his sister could rival, so does his power with it. Like the banging of bars on a metal cage, locked inside without a key.

His volatility is his weakness. Wu had made it clear time and time again, but now the wise master is all but a wisp. A forgotten memory. Someone that Lloyd has yet to make contact with, someone that Lloyd values so highly. Perhaps it is though because Wu, does not value his own power at all.

That on the other hand of it all, his father has depended on his power more than anybody. At least to the point of where his father is now, or the current form he takes. Lloyd remembers the soft, pinging-- but calm frequency his father radiated in the time where Lloyd was still harnessing his Golden Power. A thing dutily ripped away from him when push came to shove.

Instead he seems to lose the closeness, the memory. His father's power is cold. He's felt it, like a brisk poison rushing to all senses. Like a dagger to the heart. Like pain, rushing through his bones, and twisting-shoving-screaming---crying... His father's power is destruction, and yet he's felt these on the recieving end, he also knows the value in it in himself.

With this power passed down, before he swore to never give in to it again. It was a rush, like a cool rush through the air, a swift turning in his chest, a reason to keep fighting. Destruction is fleeting, but addictive, so addictive that he's felt it control him. Winding up like a broken toy, destroying all that comes forth. But it's the cool that quells the warm. It's the cool that makes his senses finally dullen to a point where he can actually breathe.

For it's been so long since he could actually breathe.

Because, "energy" might be life, but it's always running. It's the feeling in the air, it's the happiness, it's the pain. It's knowing everything, and feeling everything all at once and not being able to control it. To feel what you don't want to feel. For everything to be there, whether the sounds, whether the slight movement that would catch anyone in a loop. But with that is the slight knowledge that he cannot control it.

He will never be able to control the life that burns within him.

He is not like the others.

As it is, what it is, life cannot be controlled.

And his own life has fought like wildfire, even if he'd want it extinguished, even if he'd want to greet death like an old friend.

It's healed his wounds, it's lied, it's exclaimed his greatness, it burns.

Sometimes his friends exclaim the greatness of their powers, the calmness. Zane explaining to him one night for that he is calmed down, he is cooled by the ice that reaches his mind. Nya by the water, the rush in her veins. But Lloyd is not one and the same. His powers are volatile. They shift to one side, and sink, the other.

Lloyd, unlike the others, feels his power in his heart. Exhilaration, restlessness, like the tick of a metronome. The tick that his time is up, the tick that means sometime soon he won't have to fight anymore, but it doesn't stop. He hears it, in a low hum, a buzzing feeling akin to electricity, that makes him believe everything will dissolve into static. But it's haunting, knowing it in every waking moment. Knowing that one day it will stop, one day it will finally give in--- yet every he gets close it's restarted like a video game.

He feels it when he harnesses, and with it he's been overdrawn more than anyone else. He hates his power. He hates how weak it makes him feel, how weak and unassuming. He hates that when he over-extends it, he's not okay. He's not okay like the ninja. He's not okay, because it's tied to his life. It's intertwined.

"Your place is in the Fabric of the Universe." Master Wu says to the young child, blonde hair alight.

Lloyd underestimated his words at the time, but feels them now. Whether it be anything, for Fire, Lightning, Earth, and Ice, or Golden Power, or Oni Power, or Energy, or ---

Now he underestimates it even more. As his power fights within him. Fights against him. Warns him.

Becoming the Conduit to the Dragons wasn't easy.

Lloyd has known his mortality, his human nature, and that source Dragon knew it too. But becoming what he thought would save the world and did, is something he underestimated so much, much to the point where he'd been in a hyperactive state of coma, much to everyone's horror.

He had known when he stepped into that room with the Source Dragon.

Like a pang at his chest, the buzzing even more pronounced more than anything.

And then he'd given into it, and what he thought, every transformation, every fight, everything had become so miniscule, obsolete, unasumming, because this power, this thing he channels like a battery, is more powerful than anything.

It burns but it also brings warmth-- it stresses but it also guides.

But it's starting to take over his life, it's starting to mess with him, his powers, his life. He knows that possibly sometime when he steps into it again, he might not step out. He might not wake up. It may claim his energy.

But he is but the fabric of the universe.

[sochawrites]

The eyes of the Boogeyman – SPOILERS

gender neutral reader first person pov reader is Michael's child scene rewrite canon-typical violence

"If I can't have her..." were the last words the guy on the ground mustered before he plunged a knife deep into his throat. What an amateur, I thought, still not understanding why the Boogeyman let him live and help him with the murders. 

I was standing in the shadows, out of Laurie's sight, silently laughing at how pathetic she looked after pulling the weapon out and then being screamed at by her granddaughter. They were all so stupid, so blind. 

She claimed that she saw the evil of Myers in Corey's eyes, that he hold the same dark gaze in them. Too bad she spent so many years obsessing over a locked-up man, rather than giving more thought to her surroundings. She might have had a chance to expect what was coming for her tonight.

My mother was a nurse in Smiths Grove Sanitarium, first meeting Michael while working under doctor Loomis, and falling for him at the first sight. While the same couldn't be said for Michael, he somehow certainly gained some sort of affection towards the nurse after a few years, opening up in his way, and allowing her to learn how to understand him in a way no doctor ever could. This 'relationship', after the doctor's death, lead to me being born, and although she never said anyone who my father was, it seemed like all the staff already knew, all of them except the doctors. I heard it all the time from other nurses every time mother took me with her, "You have your father's eyes!". I was allowed to enter his cell with mom when she was doing checkups on him, for that little family time, if one could call it that, just never when the doctors were around. She taught me how to read him too, preparing me for the time that had since already come.

Looking at the body on the ground I allowed my mind to wander to the memories of my sparse meetings with Corey. 

I was on the way to the basement of my house, fully prepared to scold my poker face of a father for bringing yet another victim inside, just to see that he let the guy live, and escape, almost ramming into me on his way out. But there was no need for me to question father about what just happened, the way he stood told me all I needed. He didn't know it either.

I kept my eyes on the guy, learning his name and the fact that he needed therapy, just like everybody else in Haddonfield. His meeting with Allyson Nelson was interesting information, but nothing father would know about. 

Disappointed, I returned home, just to be met with him presenting a cop as an offering to the Shape, hoping in becoming something of an apprentice. I scoffed at the sight, why would father ever give over his mantle to some random guy, someone so careless and incompetent, when I was right there, his own child? oh, how mistaken I was.

And the audacity he had for claiming the mask for himself...

I was actually quite sad that it wasn't me who took his life away. No matter, father was here, taking back what was rightfully his. While reaching for the knife, Corey's body began to shake violently. I tightened my gloved hold on my own blade, ready to strike and deal the final blow, just to be stopped by the Boogeyman's cold stare as he broke the boy's neck. Stay concentrated, be observant. 

The sound of a lock brought our focus to the kitchen, where the microwave was now turned on as well. Laurie Strode was on the move.

Father let me go first, it was clear as a day to me that she was hiding in the pantry, I motioned to my father to wait, while I walked to the so-obviously prepared distraction to turn it off. 

We both made our way, walking in sync to keep my presence a secret for a while longer. I stood to the side when the door flew open, the woman launching forward, knocking fathers blade out of his hand with an extinguisher. She was about to lend another hit, but I was quick to stab her side and twist the knife, making her drop the item and turn around while screaming in pain, backing right into the Boogeyman's arms, only then realizing her mistake. 

With her head being pulled back and hands held behind her, she looked into my eyes, it took her a second to figure out who I might be. She wasn't scared, more so just angry and in pain. Good. "Want me to hold her for you?" I asked, though he didn't need my help as he swiftly swapped his hand from Laurie's hair to her neck, to which she instinctively jerked her hands too. With a now free hand, father ripped my knife from her side, fast to slice deep into the older woman's unprotected middle, guts spilling out, and stabbing the knife into her ribcage a few times before pulling it out for the last time and dropping her body on the bloody floor. She was sure to bleed out now. 

"NO!" a sharp voice of protest pierced the air. Allyson has returned just a minute too late. Full of adrenaline, she mindlessly threw herself at the Shape, but I was more than happy to wrestle her off of him myself. 

She hit the ground hard enough to stun her for a while, so I reached for the knife father had previously dropped and cut open her throat, thick hot liquid coating our surroundings. I wanted to let her know this wasn't personal from my side, but what was the point, she was a dead girl walking now anyway. With that line of thought and the sound of police sirens in the background, I plunged the blade into her heart, ending her life there and then. 

It was time to go home.

[voltstone]

Enid: Hey We— Enid: Wednesday, what are you doing? Wednesday: I’m critiquing your stories. Enid: My… Wednesday: Word of advice, you can use the character’s names more often. There’s no need to constantly replace them with ‘the singer’ or 'the idol’. Enid: Wednesday. Where did you find these…? Wednesday: … Wednesday: You are registered to an archive as…pasteldogenjoyer. I was intrigued to see you have been working on your writing. It has gotten better. Enid: Really?!

[angustully]

hiiii wrote my first fic in 2 years <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/58692895

[virenkinnie]

what’s up guys i’m back at it with another epic awesome au!! on todays menu we have an au i literally forgot about for 2 years until today 👅👅

it’s a “what-if” type of thing where callum leaves without a word to study magic instead of rayla leaving to find viren, and rayla and ezran kinda tweak out and spend those two years looking for him. very fun! i will make an actual storyline soon but for now i’m just fucking around with some silly doodles

[flywolfwriting]

Throw Me in the Deep End

Charlie was proud to say she was not afraid of the dark. It certainly impressed the other seven-year-olds in her class, and her parents always told her how proud they were that she had conquered that fear so young. That she was so brave for sleeping without a night light. 

It was even mostly true. She could sleep in her own room, and could sneak about the manor in the middle of the night without her heart in her throat, but sometimes it still quickened, and if she looked out the windows her breath caught. She was still only seven, after all, and it was a big, scary world beyond the safety of the manor walls. 

It took her time to settle into their New Orleans holiday home. She learned the creaking of the walls and the whispering of the wind, grew accustomed to the way shadows cloaked her temporary bedroom. She kept the curtains open for just that small glimmer of moonlight and buried her head under her blankets to keep from looking outside. 

She didn't say anything to her parents, though, not even when her mom woke her before sunrise to take her on an early-morning walk. They drove for ages with Charlie napping in the backseat, until her mom pulled over and told her they'd arrived. Charlie hugged close to her, but put on a brave face when Lilith led her into the bayou. She protested only a little when directed to stay put for a moment, her plea cut off with a firm, "You're mommy's brave little girl, aren't you?" 

Charlie wanted so badly to be so she nodded and did as asked. She watched her mother disappear into the darkness and waited. 

And waited.

And kept waiting. 

The song of the bayou played around Charlie and her trembling fingers clutched the hem of her shirt tightly as she tried not to imagine glowing eyes creeping closer around her, silent tears streaking her cheeks. 

Finally she could take it no more and with a sob she raced back the way they'd come. 

"Mommy!"

—---------------------

Alastor loved nights like this, when the shadows clung to him like cobwebs and the crescent moon offered just enough light to avoid stepping into the alligator-infested waters. He could see the glint of their eyes watching as he dumped the duffle bag and opened it. They moved closer but didn't creep onto the small finger of land he stood on. They simply waited, and when he threw the first limb into the water they struck, the still bayou turning into churning bodies fighting for meat. 

Alastor threw the next piece, quietly humming as he watched them feed. This was almost the best part, second only to the moment blood welled under his fingers and his victim realized they were about to die. He kept the best cuts to himself, of course, but the gators seemed to appreciate his treats all the same. 

When he finished he loaded the bag with soil before tossing it in, tucked his gloves back into his pocket, and set off with a spring in his step. 

That was when he heard the sob.

Alastor froze, listening carefully. The bayou was full of strange sounds but he had learned them all, knew each creak of wood, the splash of an alligator sliding into the water, the hum of every insect. He slipped into the shadow between the trees and waited, his knife at the ready. They weren't truly deep within the bayou itself; he couldn't risk the noise of a boat. It was plausible someone had followed him. 

What came next was a greater shock: a child, a little girl, stumbling into view. 

No, they weren't deep, but dawn had yet to crack the sky and they weren't near any roads. 

Alastor resisted a sigh and tucked his knife back into its sheath against his thigh and stepped out. 

The girl let out a short scream and fled.

“Wait-” Alastor called, then took off after her. He couldn't see her anymore but he heard her footsteps, another short scream, and the expected splash as she fell into the water. 

And then a more familiar kind of splash.

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Next Part

[polaroid2-0]

7 minutes in heaven

── ryan ross x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol use, vulgar words (very few tbh) and slightly suggestive themes. the characters are 18+

word count: 3.4k

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Ryan knew full well you were an introvert and not too interested in partying, yet he insisted on dragging you to Brendon’s house, which was currently way too crowded in your opinion.

You thought about how you’d rather be at home bingeing crappy movies or just relaxing by yourself, sinking in the myriad of pillows that adorned your bed, when your eyes started wandering around the room. Maybe you were looking for an excuse to leave, or just maybe you were looking for the reason you were at this God forsaken party to begin with.

It’s not like you were mad Ryan dragged you here, what made you kind of annoyed was the fact that he was seemingly gone, while you’d hoped he would stay by your side. Instead you found yourself alone, looking for some peace and quiet in the kitchen, far away from the crowd. Yes, you were on your own, but this was somewhat more bearable than awkwardly standing against a wall amidst waves of dancing bodies, trying to push down the knot in your throat that formed as soon as you stepped in. You hadn’t even noticed Ryan disappearing, you just suddenly found yourself feeling colder, your limbs going frigid, looking around for your friend: it almost felt like your body felt the lack of his warm presence and signalled it to you through the shivers dancing up and down your spine.

Once you realised you were unable to locate him, you tried to navigate the crammed hallways towards a glimmer of quietness, shushing the gloominess muddling your thoughts.

You lowered your head, staring at the red cup in your hand, half full with a mixture of vodka and some kind of energy drink. Why were you thinking such stupid things all of a sudden? You’d known Ryan for years now, you had many classes together in high school and now that finals were done, ending your senior year, you were a bit worried you guys would just… drift apart. Maybe that’s why you hoped he would stay with you at this party, maybe that’s why you accepted to come to begin with. Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking. Yeah, that was definitely the reason.

You let out a soft – and perhaps slightly self deprecating – chuckle: it wasn’t the first time those thoughts came to your mind, but every time you deemed them too silly to pay them any mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to accept the fact that you would miss Ryan if you parted ways. You couldn't even begin to process the butterflies you felt in your stomach whenever his pretty face popped up in your head. The oh so perfect, poetic and dazzling Ryan Ross was definitely too out of your league. What use was it to try to make sense of it all, when you were so sure of the fact that these feelings were not reciprocated?

“What’s got you laughing?” a shadow loomed over you. You didn’t even hear the footsteps coming towards you, partly because they were hidden by the loud music that was making the walls vibrate, and also because you were so deep in thought that you drowned out every other stimulus.

You looked up, “Oh wow, I thought you had abandoned me and escaped or something,” you flashed Ryan a small smile. His cheeks were slightly red and flushed, probably because of the alcohol, seeing as he also held a red plastic cup just like yours, except his was empty.

“If you’re looking for something to drink, it should be in that cabinet,” you pointed to his left.

“Well, no, I guess I’ve had enough. Also, I wouldn’t abandon you: Brendon was just talking to some girls about our songs, you know… and he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“What a show off,” you giggled, jokingly. “What are you here for then?”

“Obviously I came looking for you.”

You felt blood rushing to your face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. We were thinking of playing some games or something,” Ryan immediately noticed your face going blank, “Listen, I know you’re not the biggest fan of parties and stuff, but I’d like if you tagged along, to be honest I’d like it better with you there…” he scratched the nape of his neck, was he… embarrassed?

That was so unlike the Ryan you knew, always somewhat cocky and annoying, hiding his kind and sweet side behind the slightly arrogant facade. It was kind of endearing to see him flustered, and you silently thanked the alcohol for making him this cute.

“Yeah, well, I guess I can tag along… but no truth or dare, you know I have no creativity whatsoever and I wouldn’t be able to come up with questions and that would be the actual worst,” you chuckled, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous and anxious you were.

“Okay okay, I won’t allow them to let you make a fool of yourself like that,” he mocked you.

This wasn’t your first party, but it definitely would be the first time you played party games, as you always avoided them like the plague.

Other than the nervousness, a slight pang of jealousy caught you by surprise. What were you even jealous of? Ryan? It’s not like he liked you back. And it’s not like you liked him to begin with. The butterflies that flapped violently against the walls of your stomach were just a natural reaction, who wouldn’t feel even the littlest bit of excitement when the most gorgeous man on Earth smiled at you so coyly?

Then why did you catch yourself staring at his nape while he was leading you out of the kitchen, the curve of his shoulders clumsily hidden by his shirt, and your eyes wandered down his back, while feeling a pit of sadness piercing through your stomach?

You caught yourself praying that he wouldn’t have to kiss any other girl, and maybe, just maybe, the bottle would land on you… but it’s not like you’d ever have the guts to confess your conflicted feelings, especially not when the thought of your friendship dying down from the distance college would put between you was all that occupied your mind for days now.

He turned to face you, “Are you coming or what?” he smiled.

You tried to regain some composure and nodded.

The whole house was packed with teens dancing to the loud music playing through the speakers. Ryan waited till you caught up with him and then let you walk ahead of him.

“I don’t want to bear the guilt of losing you in the crowd,” he snickered.

You walked past him and felt his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and comforting, you relished in the feeling, trying to quiet down your heartbeat. You couldn’t even tell if it was the nervousness of the imminent game or the warmth radiating from his hand making your heart skip one too many beats.

He led you all the way to Brendon’s bedroom, where a few other people were waiting.

“Here they are! Come sit here guys,” Brendon exclaimed cheerfully. “Allow me to explain what we’re gonna play.”

Brendon’s theatrical attitude made you chuckle, seemingly calming your furious heartbeat with the distraction he provided.

“So you all know 7 minutes in heaven right?” He glanced at you and you nodded in response. While you weren’t as close with Brendon as you were with Ryan, you guys did hang out more than a couple times and he knew you were kind of a shut-in hermit. Being a homebody didn’t mean you lived under a rock.

He continued, “Well that’s what we’re playing, but with a twist,” Brendon’s smile grew, you could catch a glimpse of benevolent malice hiding behind his pearly whites.

Some girls squealed excitedly, everyone wanted to know more.

“Okay, quiet down everybody,” Brendon shushed, gesturing with his hands.

“Hurry up Brendon,” Spencer laughed.

“So, to be honest I always thought 7 minutes in heaven was pretty boring. I mean you get to spend seven minutes stuck in a closet, isn’t it quite obvious you’re gonna fuck?” he started explaining. “So I’ve devised this variant. Basically we’re gonna split the guys from the girls and each group gets a room.”

People started giggling gleefully, thinking this was gonna get interesting.

“Each group gets to pick one person, like I don’t know, by spinning the bottle or something, and that’s the lucky one that gets to go in the closet. Blindfolded obviously. Cause the objective is guessing who the other person is, but no talking allowed. And no cum stains on my clothes cause we’re gonna use my closet, and I swear I’m gonna commit murder if any of y’all get them stained,” he shot daggers at the boys, who all laughed.

Ryan glanced at you as if to ask if you were okay, you gave a slight nod and a small smile. You didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night and be a bummer. Also it would be unlikely you’d get picked anyway, seeing as there were at least six or seven other girls.

“Oh also,” Brendon chimed again. “We’re going for multiple rounds!” Everyone cheered.

“Come on now, let’s get to our rooms,” Brendon ushered the girls out, pointing to the door opposite to his bedroom.

You sat down with the others, taking a second to look at them. You kind of knew some of them, from school, but not really enough to call them friends. Barely acquaintances even.

“Okay I guess spin the bottle would be the easiest way, right?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

You gulped nervously, you genuinely didn’t know if you wanted to be picked to get this over with or not.

One of the girls placed an empty soda bottle down in the middle of the circle you all made on the floor, and started spinning it.

When it landed on a pretty blonde, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. The pang of jealousy stabbed through your chest again though, and you found yourself hoping that Ryan wasn’t the one picked.

As you all got up and covered the girl’s eyes with the tie Brendon gave you as a makeshift blindfold, you started making your way out of the bedroom, while the chosen girl was being guided by her friend.

“Keep quiet or you’ll ruin the surprise!” you overheard one of the girls say, while giggling.

You opened the door to find the boys all ready with their chosen candidate.

You held back your sigh of relief when you noticed it was Spencer the one who was blindfolded.

Everyone stayed quiet as Brendon opened the closet and let Spencer and the girl inside. He then grabbed a timer, “Time starts… now!”

He hurried everyone to leave the bedroom.

Once you’re all out he laughed, “I don’t wanna hear them making out to be honest.” He flopped on the bed in the spare bedroom where you previously were with the girls. “Hasn’t Spencer been eyeing that girl up and down like, all night long?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies, his tone somewhat sheepish.

You felt warmth rush to your cheeks and ears, your breath hitched after noticing how close his voice sounded. Your head felt dizzy and you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look at him and face his gaze, that you felt burning through your skin.

You sank lower into the mattress, seeking comfort in the lavender coloured sheets.

Perhaps Ryan caught your nervousness, or maybe he was also feeling awkward — even though you struggled to picture that — but he didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes.

When you finally lifted your head to look at him, he gave you a small smile, his eyes hiding his flustered demeanour pretty well.

“How do you think they’re doing in there?” he breathed out.

Why was your heart even thumping now? You felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Oh, uh… I guess they’re having fun,” you spoke softly.

As the minutes went by you started making small talk and feeling a bit more comfortable. After all it was the alcohol’s fault you were feeling so lightheaded and your heart felt like it was running a marathon. Yes, it was surely that. Just hold on a bit more and you can leave, you kept telling yourself.

The ringing of the timer shook you out of your dizzy bliss, your heart giving you the fatal blow when it seemed about to jump out of your chest as Ryan’s shoulder brushed against yours when he rose from the bed.

“Time’s up, let’s go free the lovebirds,” Brendon laughed in a slightly sarcastic tone.

When he opened the closet door, the two of them were all over each other, hair ruffled and breathing laboured.

“Come on, get out. You can continue somewhere else,” Brendon winked, making everyone laugh. “Time for the second round.”

This time you were feeling a little more relaxed, the alcohol was starting to wear off and you were getting more comfortable. The game didn’t seem as scary anymore.

Until the bottle landed on you.

You knew this would happen eventually, yet you couldn’t help your head jerking up, trying to hide the panicked look you were sure was plastered on your face.

Thank God, or maybe unfortunately, the girls didn’t seem to notice and they hurried you on your feet, eager to blindfold you and start the round.

Shivers travelled up and down your spine as one of the girls held your hand to guide you to the room.

It was so eerily quiet, you couldn’t tell at all who was the guy who got picked.

You felt the girl’s hand on your shoulders as she pushed you into the cramped closet. You tucked your feet under your bottom, trying to find a comfortable enough position.

The air grew warmer as the other person joined in.

“Okay guys, time’s starting.” You hear a muffled voice, but you couldn’t distinguish who it was because of the layers of fabric and wood blocking out the sounds, “let’s go grab some more booze while we wait”.

Your view was completely black, your mouth agape, looking for some more air to fill up your lungs. You were almost shaking, trying to dry off your sweaty palms on your jeans.

You felt rustling coming from in front of you, he was probably trying to adjust himself in the tiniest amount of space so as to not disturb you. He couldn’t help but brush his legs against yours though, which let a small gasp escape from your lips.

“Uhm…” you started, before remembering the no-talking rule. You sighed in frustration. How could you even begin to guess who was the boy stuck in there with you if you couldn’t even talk to him?

Suddenly you felt puffs of warm hair hitting your face, signalling that he was getting closer. You instinctively raised your hands in front of you, as if you were trying to protect yourself or put some distance between the two of you, even though it would have been in vain, seeing as your back was against the wall.

What you didn’t expect was your hands hitting the soft cotton covering his chest. You froze, unable to react and remove them, mentally cursing the moment you decided to participate in this stupid game.

The fact that the boy took this as a sign that he could reciprocate your touch made everything even worse, your head started spinning faster than a carousel as his hands laid gently on your knees.

You could feel his warmth through the denim fabric, your heart started skipping beat after beat. This was driving you insane, it felt as if the time was as frozen as you were in that instant.

He hummed quietly as his hands made their way up your thighs, hesitating.

He stopped midway, seemingly unsure whether he had the green light or not.

For some reason you felt disappointment rush through your veins when he stopped, replacing the nervousness. As he was about to lift his hands, his fingertips barely grazing your legs, you moved your own hands higher up his chest, your feather touch barely caressing his collarbones under the lightweight shirt.

Thankfully he got the message. His hands latched back to your thighs, but didn’t stay there for long, he immediately moved them up to grab your hips.

You felt goosebumps when his thin fingers slid under the hem of your shirt and collided with the skin of your lower back.

It felt somehow familiar.

His fingers hooked in your Venus’ dimples and your ears felt devilishly hot when they caught the sigh he let escape.

The sound reverberated in your head, kicking out all other thoughts and that small spark of reason you were trying to keep alight.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, trying to focus on identifying the man who was making you feel all hot and bothered.

As your fingers travelled to the nape of his neck and tangled in his soft hair, his hands were occupied with exploring your back and waist, stopping to lay palms flat against your side, thumbs lightly pressing your stomach.

His face was inching closer and you could smell his cologne, faint but distinguishable.

The scent of hairspray, the softness of his shirt, it all made sense now.

“Ryan?” a whisper struggled to leave your lips.

“Y-yeah…” his breathing fanned against your earlobe. “You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you,” he sighed as his lips brushed against your skin.

A rush of hot blood made your veins pulse, you gulped down the awkwardness.

“I’m happy too…” your hands moved to his back, pulling him closer in a much needed hug.

When you felt his nose bump into yours, all sense and reason escaped you, as an eagerness you didn’t know you could have made its way through your dizzy head.

“Is it okay if…” his lips caressed your cheek as he whispered.

“Yes, please, Ryan, kiss–”, his lips didn’t let you finish the sentence as they immediately captured yours in a loving and chaste kiss.

“I’ve waited for this for so long,” he whined desperately in between sloppy kisses, stopping only to take your blindfolds off.

You hummed against his mouth, hoping he’d understand that you too had been dying to kiss him for God knows how long.

His hands started exploring your back, clashing against the clip of your bra and the hem of your jeans, before settling on the sides of your face. His thumbs traced small circles on your cheeks.

“I really really like you, (Y/N),” he panted.

“I like you too,” you replied before capturing his lips once again.

The make out session left you breathless as you laid your head on his shoulder, while he engulfed you in his tight embrace. It felt like he’d never let you go and you were totally fine with that.

“I think I would have actually cried if you ended up with some other jerk,” he chuckled.

“Were you jealous?” you teased, knowing full well you were thinking the same exact thing.

“Shut up. Wouldn’t you also be jealous if the girl you liked for years ended up making out with someone else?”

“Touché, Ross,” you chirped gleefully. He liked you. The prettiest and kindest and smartest person you’d ever laid eyes upon reciprocated your feelings. It felt unreal.

“Don’t you think time should be up by now?” he tilted his head.

“Oh fuck, you’re right. Did they forget us or what?”

“Not that I’m complaining if we accidentally end up staying here all night,” he teased sarcastically, “who knows what might happen.”

“Shut up!” you laughed.

The closet fell silent. You really should be looking for a way to get out.

Thankfully it seemed that Brendon read your minds, cause you suddenly felt frantic footsteps approaching hurriedly and a string of mumbled ‘fuck fuck fuck’s.

“We can continue this later, right?” Ryan whispered in your ear, as he moved just a couple inches back. You could literally feel the cocky smirk adorning his beautiful face.

You turned to look at him right as the closet door opened, “Fuck guys I’m so sorry, we went to grab some more vodka bottles and didn’t hear the timer go off I’m so sorry fuck,” Brendon’s hand was outstretched, offering you help to get out.

Thank God he didn’t seem to notice your tousled hair and laboured breath.

Your eyes went immediately looking for Ryan’s, his gaze making you melt.

“Don’t worry, we had fun,” he winked at you.

You rolled your eyes. He was back to his annoying usual self, which you couldn’t help but love all the same as the desperate whiny mess he was just a couple minutes ago.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

i highly hope there were no mistakes as english isn't my native language and this was my very first time writing a fanfic :)

[kulai]

REPOST! because i forgot to add tags since i was sleep deprived sawrry

based on ch.17 of chaos for the fly by @laylajeffany!! fed me wenclair for months and im still not halfway done. if you want a genuinely good long read, go check it out!! :DD (more under the cut)

[gauloiseblue]

I'm hungry for something else

Warning: mature content

If you could describe the man next to you, you'd say messy, chaotic, careless, and angelic. His tousled golden hair sprawled everywhere on the pillow, and the soft white bedcover of your bed failed to hide his bare torso. But even so, he's like the sleeping God in a Renaissance painting. 

A soft air of amusement escapes from your nose as you gently push his unraveled curls aside, and his brows furrow at the sudden touch. You pressed your lips on his forehead, before you carefully climbed out of the bed. He stirred in his sleep, but his eyes were still closed.  

When you turned your head towards the bed, you were once again greeted by the mess, yet also the perfect view of him. Some of the pillows fell from the mattress, and the tie he used before is peeking from the seams of the blanket. The paleness of the bed sheet contrasts with his rich skin tone, while his golden hair compliments the achromatic style of the room. You admire him for a moment, before you turn away from him. Your body feels sticky, and you need a good shower. 

You quickly snatched up the water bottle from the nightstand as you made your way to the bathroom. The double wide mirror reflects the whole room and your figure when you went inside, and your eyes widened when you saw the numerous marks on your neck. You frowned when you realized that you can't wear the halter dress for tonight. With a sigh, you began to make your way to the shower. 

The natural stone under your feet feels cold as you step into the small room, and you immediately turn the faucet. The water feels pleasantly warm against your skin, and the glass starts to fog as the temperature rises. You hummed as you begin to wash your body, while letting the water soak you thoroughly. 

As you wash the remaining shampoo from your hair, you hear a soft sound of footsteps coming from the room. A lazy smirk stretches on your lips as you feel your lover's hands wrapped around you, and he pulls you against his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he begins to pepper a few kisses along your neck. 

"When I woke up and didn't see you beside me, I thought of the worst." He murmurs as he holds you close, and you chuckle at the overstatement. 

"Oh you." You softly moan when he nips on your skin, "I swear, someday I'll get sick of your remarks."

"But you'll still love me, won't you amore?" 

You giggled before you turned your body to face him, "You know I can't deny that."

It didn't take a second before your lips found each other, and soon you were wrapped up in the kiss. His hand creeps from your shoulder then down to your waist, and you feel something wonderful pressed on your lower belly. 

He kisses you with the same passion as you, and you run your fingers into his hair. He pushed you against the wall, and trapped you with his body. Your stomach was heated up as it dawned on you  that both of you are unclothed, and the fact that nothing comes between the two of you makes it easier for him to take you right here and now. 

"Giorno—" You gasped when he slipped his hand between your thighs, and you gripped his hand to stop him, "We'll be late for dinner."

"We can always call the room service." He stated with a heavy breath, "I don't want to leave the room."

"But—" Kiss. "You already made a reservation—" Kiss. "And we have barely left the room since we first checked-in..." 

"Oh, amore..." He chuckled as you struggled to keep your face straight, "Don't you think it's better for us to stay?"

You gritted your teeth as he teased you, but you won't give in that easily, "You said we could have dinner at the hotel restaurant," You pout, "Just a short dinner, then we can go back to our room."

He paused as he searched into your eyes, but you showed nothing but resolve. He lets out an amused, but soft snort, "Alright, if that's what my bella wants."

You beamed as you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek, "I'll go and get changed."

You were surprised at how easy he let you go this time, and how he didn't try to change your mind. But in spite of that, you're glad that he agreed to come with you. As you wrap yourself in a towel, you pick up the hairdryer before heading to the dressing room. Once you sit at the dresser, you begin to dry your hair and spritze some perfume on your pulse points. 

As you finished putting on light makeup, you started to choose which dress you'd use for dinner. Your eyes fell to the turtleneck dress, and the red stilettos on the bottom shelf. They are a perfect match, and you immediately put them on. Your feet easily slip into the heels, but you struggle to zip up your dress. 

"Need a hand?" You turned your head to see your lover leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed, and a towel hanging loose around his hips. He smirked at you, and you blushed when you realized that you've been staring at the delicate skin under his toned abdomen, for a little longer than necessary. 

"Oh," You coughed as you looked away, "Yes, I could use some help."

He tilted his head before he walked closer, this time his steps were firmer, as if he emphasized every step. You gulped as you turned on your heels, and now with your back facing him, you couldn't possibly know what he'd do.

"(Y/N)." He spoke in a low tone, and you shivered when his knuckles brushed the delicate skin on your spine. His hand then slowly pulls the seam of the zipper toward the center, and you feel your dress fastened around your waist. "Diamonds and gold would complement your dress perfectly, don't you think?" 

You straightened your back as the slider reached the end point, "I think so too," You bit your lip when he sneaked his arms to hold you from behind, "Go get dressed, I'm famished."

He chuckled as he withdrew his hands from you, "Mia ragazza is very impatient tonight."

When Giorno left your side, you distracted yourself by opening your jewelry box. Pearls and diamonds proudly shine under the bright lamp, and some of them reflect a small patch of rainbow. The double necklace and the matching earrings quickly grab your attention, as well as the simple band ring and the Victorian "three stone" diamond ring. You certainly couldn't choose which one you should wear if Giorno didn't tell you the perfect pair for your dress. 

"Are you done yet, amore?" Your head turns toward the source of his voice, and you almost gasp when you see him in a loose white shirt. His clothes neatly tucked into his belted trousers, and the top three buttons of his shirt were left open. 

"Yes, I'll get my purse." You said with a little bit of hurry, and thankfully the thing you searched for is right on the sofa. You hurriedly went to grab it. 

"Hold on for a second, amore." He suddenly called, and you froze as it sounded more like a command. You stay unmoved as he touches the soft mount of your bum, and begins to fondle them. You bite back your moan when he pushes you flat against the door, while his hand roams onto your backside. 

But something felt wrong, as you could no longer feel the band of your underwear. Then, something's creeping up from your thighs, and that's when you spot a black scales creature, with a pale yellow underbelly. Your eyes widened as you screamed when you saw the snake slithered away, and up into his hand. 

"Shh, bella mia. She's as harmless as a dove." He let you go as he kissed the top of the serpent's head. Its tongue flicks out as it bumps its snout on his cheek, demanding his attention. He then scratches its chin lovingly before the scaly creature slips into his pocket. You watch him in disbelief as he opens the door for you, as if he hadn't done anything wrong, or hadn't just taken your underwear. And when he gives you the smirk that weakens your knees, you know you should've called the room service instead.

—

The dinner went quiet, and thanks to the shock that he gave you earlier, you no longer had the appetite. The feeling of sleek scales on your thigh has been lingering for a while, and it still stirred your gut up. 

But it's not the only thing that makes your stomach churned, 

"Ah, mia bella... You look ravishing tonight."

"How's the wine? Does it suit your taste? ... Or do you prefer another drink?"

"They were delicious, but I'm still hungry for something else."

You didn't know how many times you've bit your lip to keep yourself composed, and you were sure that he already knew how flushed you've become. The fact that he booked the whole restaurant for the two of you didn't help either, because he could tease you all he wanted without the disturbance of the curious eyes. 

There's no other people in this restaurant, and all the attendants of the restaurant have left the room as they were instructed to. Giorno told them that he wants some privacy, and of course, no one would be brave enough to deny such a request from the Don. 

"What's wrong, amore?" He looks at you with his chin resting on his hand, there's an unmistakable amusement from his tone when he sees you getting nervous. 

You forced a smile as you lifted your wine glass, "It's nothing, caro." You replied, "I'm waiting for the digestivo."

"Oh." His response was flat, but his lips curled upwards. "Why the rush? We still have wine to finish."

Of course, it's only half a bottle left, you thought sarcastically. 

He had ordered a bottle of 'Valpolicella Ripasso Classico' wine for apéritif, but by the fourth glass, you were beginning to feel tipsy. You were sure you'd end up drunk if you kept going, so you didn't pour the wine for the fifth round. Besides, you still have the after-meal liquor for later. The alcohol did calm your nerves, as you can feel the tension in your shoulders melted away. 

But something odd is going on, and you know you're not drunk enough to start hallucinating. At first, you felt that you were being watched, but there's no one in the restaurant except you and Giorno. Then, there's a soft, feathery touch on your hand, but it was brief, as if you were just imagining things. 

Except, you weren't. Because the second you felt a firm grip on your thigh, you finally understood what was happening. 

"Ah, it seems like GER couldn't wait to taste you." He smirked when your mouth fell open, "We shouldn't let him wait any longer, don't you think?"

"Gio!" You hissed as you tried to close your thighs, but his invisible stand easily pried them open. "Please, caro—" A squeak escaped your lips when a pair of strong hands pulled you to the edge of your seat. 

Giorno watched you with half-lidded eyes, while you gritted your teeth to bite back your moan. His stand had just pushed your legs apart before his hard, and cold lips were attached to your labia. You instantly grip the armrests of your chair when you feel a long unnatural tongue slip into your core, and it's so cold, so cold like a flexible metal. 

Your knuckles turned white when the elastic muscle was dragged to your little pearl, and Giorno sighed in pleasure when he could feel your heartbeat through his stand's tongue. You certainly didn't expect him to use his stand like this, it's pretty bizarre to think that his powerful ally—the thing that has accompanied him in every fierce battle, agreed to do such a debauched thing. If there's no tablecloth to cover your legs, you were sure your pussy would be on full display. 

The seam of your dress was pushed to your stomach, revealing your bare thighs to his eyes only. The sight of your skin and your private part drove him crazy, as he could feel himself growing tight in his pants. He sips his wine as his stand works on your pleasure, and you begin to feel the buildup to your release. 

Your feet curled when his finger slid into your sex, before he added another one without warning. Your wall clenched around his digits when he buried his fingers deeper, until he could touch the tender part of your core. It didn't take long before he began to caress the certain spot that sent you into spiralling bliss, and you silently moaned at the delicious friction. 

"Oh mia bella..." He chuckled when he saw your face twisted in pleasure, "Do you think I can make you come before they serve the amaro?"

You whined at his vulgar question, "Giorno." His name falls from your lips like a beg, as the idea of coming undone in this very situation excites you.

But you still have a little sense of judgement left, and you reminded yourself that you're still in the restaurant—a public place. And that's when you spotted a man, the waiter to be exact, just entered the room. He seems to be walking straight to the bar, and there's only one explanation for it, he's preparing for the digestivo. 

"Giorno, we shouldn't—" You draw a quivering breath, "We—ah! We should stop."

"Isn't it a little too late for that?" He grinned, clearly unaware, or even didn't care about the situation. But it's different in your case, you really need to stop him before the waiter approaches. 

You were beginning to panic as you saw the man finished pouring two shots of amaro, and placed them onto a tray. The distance between the bar and your table is only 8 tables away, you have to act fast. 

An idea, or more like a wild guess pops up in your mind as you push your stiletto off from one of your feet. Then you try to blindly feel his stand before your heel lands on a hard limb, which you instantly drag your foot towards the center of the stand's hip. His stand's movement ceases as his expression changes as he feels the sudden pressure on his crotch. It's not hard enough to induce pain, but it's just enough to make his cock throbs. You keep stroking his member as you put your best innocent face, 

"Mio amore," You called him with the most seductive tone you could muster. Which, unexpectedly, had an effect on him. He breathed out a low groan before he pressed his fist against his lips, trying to suppress his moan. 

You smile as you continue, "Do you like it when I do this to you, caro?"

He fell quiet as you gave his member the attention he craved, but his face darkened as he felt his control over you slipped away. You know he didn't like it when you tease him, but you'd rather have him punish you later than getting caught in public. 4 tables away, 3 tables away... 

You let out a relieved sigh as he calls his stand back, and his companion dematerializes in a second. You quickly straighten your dress before you adjust your sitting position, just in time to properly greet the waiter. 

"Two 'Don Bairo Elisir' Amaro Liqueur." The man smiles as he puts the crystal cordial glasses on your table. 

"Grazie."

"Do you need anything else?" He asked, but you shook your head. 

"No, that's all."

The waiter nodded before he bowed his head slightly to your lover, but upon seeing your lover's face, he turned pale. "Sir." He trembled as he excused himself from your table.

You gingerly bring the glass to your lips before you pretend to look somewhere else, anywhere but his face. But even with your effort to ignore him, you couldn't shake the heavy tension in the air. You begin to sweat as you feel his eyes burn on your skin, you know exactly what it means. 

"I'm," You gulped, "I'm going to the bathroom."

In haste, you push your chair before you stand. You hoped your trip to the restroom would soothe the tense atmosphere, or at least that was what you thought. But when you turn your body on him, a strong hand swiftly holds your wrist in a death grip, making you freeze in an instant. 

"Oh you're not going anywhere, (Y/N)."

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Good Morning, my Love: Vergil x G/N Reader

MINORS DNI

SERIOUSLY GO AWAY SMH

SUMMARY: Vergil wakes you up in a special way.

BEGINNING NOTES: Vergil x G/N Reader Smut CONSENTUAL Somnophilia (Fucking someone who is asleep; trigger warning..? I guess?). The reader is a heavier sleeper; otherwise, they would’ve woken up right away lmao (Short and to the point)

==

     A warm light peered through the curtains of the room onto the foot of the bed. The room was rather disheveled from the sensual night prior. Soft snores and mumbles were all that could be heard throughout the house, however, it was only from one of the two housemates. The second was wide awake. 

     Vergil stared down at you. Your back was pressed against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you even closer. The peaceful innocent smile that was tugging at the corner of your lips made the blue devil feel almost guilty over what he was about to do. Bit by bit, he slid down your underwear, stopping when he felt you were about to wake and only continuing when completely sure you were still slumbering. 

     Using his own fingers, he covered them in spit and began to very slowly finger you. He knew he had to be very careful how much he was moving around and how deep his fingers went; otherwise, you’d wake and it would ruin the surprise. 

     Admittedly, he would never have dreamed of doing something this perverted and rather taboo. However, he got told by a very drunk you that you’d wanted to try something like this with him; waking him up by having your mouth wrapped around his cock or riding him. Those ideas had festered in his mind long enough that he’d also become interested in trying something like that. 

     Growing impatient, he removed his fingers and released his morning wood from its confines. Very calmly, he ground himself against you for a moment before using more of his spit to slick his already twitching cock. With a bit to his lip, he lined up his cock with your hole and gradually pushed himself inside you. 

     He watched your brow twitch at the feeling of his tip penetrating your hole and felt your hips shift a bit. Vergil took a deep breath, doing his best to not rush things and shove himself violently inside you, fucking you as he did the night prior. Even if he had just woken up, Vergil was already wide awake and chomping at the bit to rail you. 

     After a painfully long minute, he was fully seated in you and buried his head into the crook of your neck. Then he wrapped his arms around your middle, took a slow inhale, and moved his hips gently against yours. Your brow twitched again as he continued to move himself in slow languid motions. 

     “V-Vergil..?” Your voice cracked as you turned to see him, only to let out a low groan at him thrusting a bit harder against you.

     Vergil moved to kiss your lips, enjoying the sloppy sleepy movements of your mouth. His speed picked up to a moderate pace; not too hard but not too soft, just a nice medium. You laid your head back onto his shoulder as you felt his hands move to your chest, grabbing greedy handfuls of your flesh. This also gave him access to your neck which he took full advantage of, kissing and biting over the already tender flesh that he had partaken in several hours ago. 

     With his arms re-wrapped tightly around your middle, his thrust became short and harsh; pushing as far up inside you as he could. You placed one hand over his and the other over your sex, playing with the aroused area. 

     It didn’t take long for the two of you to cum: Vergil spilling himself inside you as your body contorted from your orgasm. Wanting to enjoy the tightening of your body more, one of Vergil’s hands moved to your over-sensitized flesh, which you’d let go of in your ecstasy, and began to use his index finger to rub against it; causing your body to arch even harder against him. 

     Once he had his fill, he stopped and gently bunted the side of his head against the side of yours, “Good morning, my love…” he placed a kiss against your cheek. In his sleepy post-orgasm stupor he laughed softly against you, saying the words that he scarcely can bring himself to say, “I love you, so very much...” 

==

ENDING NOTES: Wrote this in like 45 minutes (which is fast for me) so it’s not perfect but whatever lol

==

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

TUMBLR DMC MASTERLIST

[remusbuzzcutt]

it’d take a lot to pry sunkiller/jarty away from my hands. they both struggled similarly but dealt with it in such different ways. my friend juli wrote about them in a group therapy setting and i absolutely fixated on it for months for some reason??

imagine barty with bpd AND npd. he used people’s emotions like it was second nature. he didn’t even think twice. with that being said, he had an avoidant attachment style. if he was showing raw emotion, it was probably for show. he wasn’t “vulnerable” without the intention to be.

imagine james with bpd, who fixated on people so much that it was all he could thing about. he was obsessive to an almost concerning degree, but that’s what barty wanted.

he wanted to be on james’s mind like that, to consume his every thought. he got off on the idea of someone thinking about him like that. barty noticed the little details, all the things that james liked so that he could use it to make james think he actually cared. it got to a point where barty was trying so hard to get james obsessed with him, he didn’t realise that the only thing he could think about was james. his mood depended on how james reacted to him, how james acted and even the tone he spoke in.

[voltstone]

they adopt a cat named floof (Wenclair One-Shot)

wednesday, for her girlfriend, gets a cat. she finds a way to bypass the “no pet” policy in order to do so. :)

(inspired by this post)

[1,268 Words] | [Last Edit: 11/12/2022] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why.

Hope you enjoy! :)

Enid has figured, months ago, that she might as well be dating an Eldritch horror.

At first, she thought that Wednesday is just an angsty little goth. Come to find, her aesthetic and snapped wit are the most outwardly charming things about her. Because, as much as Enid loves her, Wednesday is really, really fucked in the head. 

Fucked head or not, though, Wednesday has a heart. She does. Sure, it may be in her foot for all Enid knows, but watching how she plays along with Eugene’s bee-scapades, and how cordial she and Bianca have gotten, she knows there’s a heart of gold in Wednesday. (That or she’s color-blind and it’s not gold but rather, in fact, dirt.)

Not that it matters. After too long of a day, Enid is ready to collapse onto Wednesday’s bed and badger her until she stops her “hour of novel writing” in exchange for, uh, osculation. 

Some days the struggle is short-lived. Wednesday gets needy too. But other days, the “hour of novel writing” is extended to several, and a long, long pout-full sleep on her bed. Hopefully today is the former. Given the labs, and the lectures, and the other labs, Enid really just needs to scratch an itch. And by that, it’s really Wednesday scratching it, and then Enid taking a nap afterwards. With Wednesday. (They cuddle.)

The door is nudged open. A hinge creaks, and a floorboard groans. Her eyes find Wednesday immediately. By the window. Waiting for her. Mildly surprised, but, ultimately, glad. Enid smiles widely. “Wednesday! Your novel's…”

“Done for the day. I did it this morning.” She straightens as Enid closes the door. "Enid,“ Wednesday prompts, and though she catches a quirk down her lips, Enid can’t help but feel…cautious. A Wednesday with her hands behind her back is a Wednesday with too big of a trick up her sleeve. "I have a surprise for you." See?!

Wait.

Cautious or not, a wide smile flourishes. "A…surprise?”

“Yes.” A blink. (Surprisingly. Heh.) “You said that you wanted a pet to keep us and Thing in better company.”

If Enid could jump Wednesday’s cold, frigid bones, she would. But, alas, as much as she loves Thing, Enid isn’t sure if she’d appreciate two running around—as a hand, and then a paw. So she stands herself squarely and musters a curious face. “Yeah, I-I did… So…?" A grin is pressed. Oh fuck, she can’t bear holding herself together any longer. Her hands are clasped. The grin cracks glee. "What is the little one…?! A gerbil? A ferret? A—” Enid practically melts off the face of the earth. “A kitten?!”

Wednesday maintains her composure, but that quirk down her lips worms. “Not quite. Close your eyes.”

She does as told, and she hears Wednesday shift with the surprise in her arms. Her grin is wide with her tongue snagged between teeth.

“Enid. I got us a cat.”

There’s a hop, and a skip, and yip! before she has the chance to open her eyes. "O-M-G! Can we name it Floof—?!“ When Enid does open her eyes, she… U-Um. Well, um. She sees orange. And the cat is…staring at her. Except it’s disconcerting and not at all like Wednesday; rather than stare deep into her soul to lobotomize it, the cat is, like, staring…through…it?

Wednesday tilts her head. Another blink. "What?”

The—

The cat isn’t fucking moving. It just…isn’t. It's—

Oh my fuck, what the God did you do, Wednesday?! 

Enid stands in place, feet anchored to the ground, as she stares at the… The— M-Muppet. Dead muppet. There’s a swallow, and then, a squeaked, "…w-why does it look like that?“

Wednesday lobotomizes Enid’s soul (affectionately). "Like what? The child we shall raise? Together?” …that shouldn’t have flipped Enid’s heart over. It’s practically roasting on a skillet now.

Enid lurches a quite tentative step forward. She meets…Floof by its vacant stare. "Did you put googly-eyes on it?“

"Well it is taxidermy,” Wednesday confirms, bluntly. She gazes down at the cat’s face, and the black dots follow. “I felt you would have appreciated her eyes.”

“Instead of what?”

Wednesday stares back at her. “The eyes I found bludgeoned from her head.”

Where did she get this cat?! Enid follows Wednesday to her desk. …Floof is gently set down beside the typewriter, and as Wednesday fixes a bent whisker in place, Enid hears Thing scatter across the room and back under one of the beds. 

Judging from the multitude of blemishes across…her body, it’s clear that Floof spent all nine lives at once. Poor thing. Yet, she looks as alive as Enid supposed she was not months ago—googly-eyes discounted. She imagines Wednesday’s lithe fingers spindling to sew the worst of death, hide it away, and it’s a mellow thought, if morbid. Her coat looks soft, and her body, strong. Put back together, at least. "That's— That’s such a pretty pattern on Fl-Floof’s back,“ Enid comments.

"Goodyear, for a truck—winter coverage.”

…a-ah. Okay.

Wednesday lingers in place, with her eyes avoidant, and hands tied together. It takes a moment before she begins to ramble—a rarity, with Wednesday, and Enid feels her own heart pool to her foot: “You said you wanted a cat, but I told you—again—that we can’t because of the academy’s policy, but you looked like you wanted to kill yourself when I said that—”

“…Wednesday, I’m not…s-suicidal.”

“—so I went out searching for one, on the roads, and I found this one. She looks like a lot of your sweaters, which is disgusting, so I figured it’d work out. We wouldn’t have to pay for any of the necessities she needed alive, though I’m sure enough nail-paint and -remover will do the equivalent.”

Enid grimaces, though her eyes land on Floof’s white paws, and they snag each toe. “She does have nice nails.”

“I filed them.”

A hum down her mouth, because Enid can smell the anxiety off her neck—even from around the desk, despite whether or not Wednesday herself realizes it. But it's…funny, really. There’s a sort of beauty about it, how mental gymnasticshas become the sound way to understand Wednesday’s language:

Want a pet? Can’t have one because of rules. So, here’s a dead one. With pretty nails you can paint, and a head big enough for a bow.

Enid watches her quietly. Wednesday plays with her hands, spindles them together. Her lips are thin. She’s nervous. Her eyes are cast down. She anticipates.

“How long did this take…?”

Wednesday, slowly, murmurs, “Two weeks. I had to…help with the odor. You would’ve vomited or kissed the floor otherwise.” A pause, then, “…and broken your…pretty nose. Again.”

“That did hurt, yeah…” Enid breathes. (It’s still sore. She swears she’ll set Wednesday’s side of the room on fire, someday.) She rounds the desk’s corner, and Wednesday is swiftly tucked in her arms. There’s that initial frigid moment before Wednesday unwinds, and her body remembers that, yes, it’s Enid, and Enid has the permission. She nudges her pretty nose along Wednesday’s neck. “Thank-you…” is murmured.

“We’re going to reconsider the name." You’re welcome.

"No we’re not." No we’re not. 

Together, they eye Floof, and Floof…is staring at both the door and window simultaneously. With— 

Aww, her tongue is almost sticking out. What a cute touch, Wednesday… 

"You’re needy.”

“It’s almost a full moon…?”

Wednesday twists her head, and Enid seeks for treasure.

They osculate. And her lips feel like death, but they’re the most liveliest thing, all at once.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

[celosiaceo]

Taste of Normalcy (You Can Always Find Me)

Originally posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46189747, minor edits have been made here

Tags: MC/reader’s gender unspecified, fluff, mild hurt, a lot of comfort, handholding, crying, hugging, overwhelmed MC/reader, first person POV, slight divergence from Leander’s red choice branch

Word count: ~2100

Fire.

A power so fascinating that it makes the head spin. The element that flickers with madness, waiting to spill destruction the second it can leave its bounds, but also one that offers comfort and solace, protection, and security. Does a moth know when it drifts toward a cozy lamp, and when it reaches deadly flames? Does it feel safe while hopelessly fluttering towards an open flame, fascinated with the radiating light and warmth seconds away from being devoured by it?

Where you decide that, despite being so overwhelmed by something small, you want too much of a good thing, regardless of your own reaction.

A hand was offered to me, holding out something I’ve always longed for, something I’ve wanted more than anything my entire life. Normalcy . The ability to free me from my bandage-made prison, to not hide away, to not feel like a flame about to burst onto dry branches with a single touch. Never could I have thought that my wretched, all-wrecking hands could ever feel the softness of another’s skin.

Even though I’d already felt Leander’s hand once prior, seeing him reach out once more made me dizzy, my chest tightening with a mix of exhilaration and anxiety at the memory of the first time this happened. My hand hovered over his own, now in disbelief and hesitation, before resting in his palm. Leander’s tender gaze fixed on my hand as he carefully unwinded the bandages. The glowing gold cracks on the soot-dark skin of my arm slowly came into view and got wrapped up by the warm air of the bar. The green eyes occasionally darted up to check on me, and Leander paused every such moment. A nervousness crept up my mind, but all of it disappeared with the sight of a soft smile and the feeling of a gentle squeeze over my monstrous hand.

“No one will notice”

For a moment Leander separated to tug his glove off with his teeth, and once again he held his hand out to me. “There you go. Hand holding on demand.” His lips curved upwards into a soft grin. “Whatever you want.” Leander’s next words soon followed in a whisper.

Perhaps it was because of the gin, but it was hard to focus. What do I want..? For a moment I stared down at my lap, thinking. But as I glanced up into the tender, slightly tired, and alcohol-softened emerald eyes I could barely stop my hand from reaching up to rest against Leander’s face instead. My arm trembled in the air, I felt my chest ache with a quickened heartbreak and my face heat up. “Can I touch your face..?” Despite not having a reason to, I felt a fear of having a knife stick into my back, the inviting light of the bar, the almost drowned-out lively chatter, Leander leaning in and reaching out for me so invitingly — it all felt too good to be real. But with the fear, there was undeniably desperation. A desperation for it to be true, and Leander probably saw it too.

Despite there being no reason for that, it was unexpected to me that he allowed me to go on. I hesitated, it felt like my hand was about to break an invisible barrier before would faintly graze Leander’s jaw. I still couldn’t let myself fully indulge in my own request, and it seems he noticed that also.

“That tickles. It’s fine, you can just…” Leander chuckled, eyes closing for a moment as he beamed. Instead of moving my hand away, he covered it with his own, angling it to press his cheek into my palm. I saw red dusting across his face, matching me now. The warmth surrounding my cursed hand, the kindness in the green gaze fixated on my face... A shiver ran down my spine, I felt a lump of emotions pressing at my throat, the tactility was so new, so pleasant, so addicting, but ever overwhelming…

Against the cold of my hand, his face was warm, even softer than his hand, but a fraction felt… different. Rougher, colder — the darker scar which trailed down from his cheek, to the side of his neck, to hiding under the collar of his clothes. As a blush pricked at my face all over, my fingers brushed Leander’s cheek in small circles. My lips quickly curved upwards into a smile, I saw that he was returning a reassuring dimpled smile of his own. Cautiously, I ran a finger down the rough scar. Leander shuddered, making me feel a momentary pinch of panic, and his earring jingled against my knuckles.

“You’re getting awfully bold...” Leander teased with a quiet laugh, his eyes darting away momentarily before returning to looking at my face with a lidded gaze. My pulse thumped in my ears, and my heart raced. It got harder to breathe, my head spun with jarring excitement as an almost suffocating warmth spread through me. My fingertips weren’t cold anymore, on the contrary, they were now warmer than usual. Leander slowly ran his fingers along my hand, both soothing and overwhelming me. By now I forgot we weren’t really alone, the chatter and the music in the Wick were completely drowned out by my pulse echoing in my ears. Despite my head spinning, despite feeling too hot in my own skin, I wanted to be even closer.

Even though I felt overcome by craving more, I pulled my hand back, as the hammering of my heart became too much to take. Almost instantly Leander’s smile fell to an expression of concern. I could barely hear anything through the pulsing pounding in my ears, but I could somehow make out Leander asking if I was alright, to which I mustered a nod. Without really thinking, I said something about being dizzy.

Just as quickly as before, Leander went back to giving me a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling before closing for a moment into a bright smile once again. “You’ve had a long day. You deserve some rest. Luckily, your room is just upstairs. Want me to walk you back?” As always, Leander’s first instinct was to offer me help, just like he always has done today. Again it started feeling like it was too good to be true, just now I was a moth that got burnt by a fire but still had a chance to move away to a safe distance.

And, just like a moth would, I hovered right back in to be consumed by the addicting light entirely.

With a hum of consideration, I slightly narrowed my eyes while bandaging my hand back up. As I got to catch my breath, the thumping subsided and my mind cleared up moment by moment. Looking back up at Leander with gratitude, hesitation, and a pinch of desperation , I gave a faint nod. “I… I’d be very grateful.. thank you.”

“Your wish is my command!” With a hearty laugh, Leander tucked his glove over his belt and hopped out of the booth to hold his hand out to me, which I gladly took while getting up myself. It’s not even that I felt that weak, not anymore, but the extra contact was something I couldn’t refuse.

As we walked up the creaky stairs, Leader held an arm around my shoulder, just in case, and matched my walking pace. While going up the steps I figured that I underestimated my fatigue, still, a pinch of guilt and embarrassment washed over me for having to slow the two of us down that much.

Soon enough we reached what was going to be my room for an uncertain amount of time. I turned the key in the lock, the wooden door creaked open to reveal a dark room. It was a relatively small room, but it had everything essential — a bed, closet, desk, bedside drawer, and door to what was probably an adjacent bathroom.

“There you are.” Leander patted my shoulder before pulling his arm away from my shoulder, and running it across my back. It dawned on me that I still haven’t thanked him for everything, most importantly for being this willing to help me find my cure, to be my solace. With a sigh I let my eyes fall closed, and the sensation of my heart racing came back again. I gathered my courage to turn to Leander and open my arms to initiate an embrace, and before I knew it I was surrounded by the now-familiar warmth once more.

I held my breath, and shortly I felt my whole body heat up, not just from the hug itself. I nestled my face in the crook of Leander’s neck as my now trembling arms wrapped around him in return. My eyes slowly fell closed as I tried to quietly breathe, keeping my racing heart at bay. I could feel the calming, slightly faster rhythm of Leander’s heart, despite its effect only more blood rushed to my cheeks to paint them red.

“Are you comfortable? We can stay like this as long as you’d like.” Leander’s gentle voice came out in a honey-sweet whisper. I nodded, but soon drifted into thought, as hard as that was. I’d like to stay like this for way longer than I could, as being surrounded by the welcoming warmth felt like my heart would burst out of my chest. I felt safe, I could tell that Leander was strong, but right now it felt guarding and secure instead of crushing and betraying.

Suddenly, tears pricked at my eyes. I squeezed them shut, my lip began to tremble as small drops squeezed through my eyes. I couldn’t possibly let Leander see me like that, so I hid my face, cheek pressed against his chest while my grip on his coat subconsciously tightened. His attempts to calm me down rang through my ears, but their effects were significantly smaller than I’d liked.

All hope I may have had to calm down disappeared like the green lilies earlier today when Leander’s hands slowly rubbed my back in circles to further lull me but ended up doing just the opposite. Though it was not from causing me any pain.

Why am I crying? I can’t show myself like this!

Despite my best efforts to keep the overwhelming happiness at bay, I felt dizzy again, a lump quickly forming in my throat. An evident tremble came through, I bit my quivering lip as a warm streak of tears streamed down my hot cheeks, soaking into the fabric of Leander’s clothes. My knees felt like they’d give out any moment, I barely noticed how Leander’s heart sped up a little before he pulled back to look at my face. His expression was painted with concern once again, he slightly leaned down to see me as I looked down at the floor, hands covering my face once we separated.

“There there, I’m right here for you, there’s nothing to worry about,” Leander reassured, his tone still quiet and soothing as he gently moved my hands away from my face. Closer to me than ever, I could see the details of the crinkles of his tired-looking lidded eyes, the dimples of his small smile, and the blush that still hasn’t left his face. With a sniffle and a shaky breath I nodded, trying to calm down, yet another pair of betraying tears slipped from my eyes.

My eyes only cracked open when I felt two bigger hands cup my face, thumbs brushing off my tears. I pushed a weak smile back, faintly leaning into the hands before sighing out, my breath still shaky. “Thank you… for everything.” I whispered; using a voice any louder would make it crack mid-word.

With an airy chuckle, Leanded reached one of his hands to pat my head. “There’s no need. I did say I’d do what I can to help, and I keep my word.” I finally managed to start calming down while Leander affectionately carded his hand through my hair, his expression welcoming and patient. He waited until I looked back up at him, giving a small nod before separating. Leander’s warmth lingered all over, it was indescribably comforting.

“I… I should get going, I need some rest after all…”

“Yes, I won’t disturb you, then. If anything troubles you, you know where to find me.”

“Good night, Leander.”

“Good night!”

Even as I went to my room and turned to close the door behind me, I could see Leander smiling with his eyes closed, waving me farewell for today. My heart soared as if we never parted in the first place.

[kakanoonoo]

Original Luo Binghe/Shen Yuan

Summary:

When the Qing Jing ship is pulled into a siren lair, Luo Binghe is left without any of the protection afforded to the rest of the crew. As he wanders through the mist, he encounters a strange creature with a beatiful voice. - Shen Yuan, who transmigrated into a siren in Proud Immortal Pirate Way (or whatever ridiculous title Airplane came up with) thinks he has a GREAT idea on how to rescue Luo Binghe from Shen Qingqiu!

[undercoverbastard]

“Don’t believe me?” he asked, a bit haughtily, lips becoming pursed. “Hmm… did your supposed, imaginary cat sound anything like… this?”

Stilinski proceeded to meow long and loud, making Derek clamp down and bite at his lips to hold in the laughter. The guy wasn’t too bad, his imitation of a yowling cat was pretty spot on actually. But, still, there was something undeniably hilarious about a shirtless college student with pillow creases still marring their face throwing their head back and yowling at the top of their lungs like a distressed cat. Matt on the other hand looked none too pleased.

“No, actually, it didn’t,” he huffed.

“Oh? Hm - maybe this?” Stilinski asked, making several shorter, higher-pitched sounds, imitating a chittering cat. Derek was now raising his eyebrows, eyeing the guy. Even from his placement behind Matt, he could see red splotches crawling up the RA’s neck and speckling his skin, showing just how frustrated he was becoming. Stilisnki remained undeterred.

+.+.+

OR: another writers block + 15 WIPs + tumblr prompt = something involving cats that is meant to make you feel good. that's it. that's the fic.