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potatoplace · 1 month ago

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the 1

Elriel, Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Alternate Endings: Gone | betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: All you had ever wanted to be was plain. And now, as a plain-faced High Fae, you want more. You want your mate.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, self-loathing, suicide

Words: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I'm sorry. (I told you guys I've been having a rough week...) Apparently my brain is saying 'fuck Kinktober!' Even tho like. I WANT to write those... smut just doesn't feel in the cards for me today 😩 so have some tasty tasty angst instead. (I'm also watching an Eras Tour live so I'm hella cheered up now lol)

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Self loathing grew in your gut as you watched your family around you.

All of them were happy, reveling in the togetherness that they shared.

And your mate- your mate- was ignoring you. He was speaking to one of your sisters, absolutely enamored with her. And you couldn’t blame him.

Elain had always been the pretty one of the four of you, a shining diamond even in the filth of poverty.

Nesta was the one with regal beauty, her sharp eyes and the way she carried herself not letting anyone think otherwise.

Your twin, Feyre, was stunning, even if she herself had never seen it, the cleverness in her eyes and quiet grace drawing people’s gaze to her.

And then there was you.

You were… the ugly one. Your mother had said so, even though you were only a child when she passed. Your father had quietly agreed with her. Nesta had mocked your looks when she had had a bad day, which was nearly every day while you had been living in the run down hut after your family lost their fortune. Elain said nothing, but shot pitying looks at you when no suitor asked for a dance while you had still been human, even when it had been a ball thrown in your honor for your birthday. Feyre has been the kindest to you, reminding you that it’s what on the inside that counts…

But that didn’t appear to be so.

Even with a mating bond that you knew should draw Azriel’s attention, his eyes were still glued to Elain. He seemed to be able to breathe only when in her presence, taking in the same air as her.

And in your presence? He couldn’t seem to get away fast enough.

Being dumped into the Cauldron had made both of your sisters even prettier, and Feyre was no exception either after being turned High Fae.

For you, it had made you plain. No longer ugly, unless you counted the still crooked teeth and too small nose and thin mouth.

Just plain.

As a human, you had begged to whatever higher power there was that you could just be plain.

But now that you were, you knew it would never be enough.

Because while Feyre was right, your personality mattered more in a long term relationship than your looks, being pretty drew people in.

Being plain only made you fade into the background.

Azriel laughed at something Elain had said, the sound sending warmth through your body.

It should be you making him laugh, not Elain.

Elain, with her beauty and poise and perfect personality and her ridiculously handsome mate who wanted nothing but her time.

Elain, who seemed to want no one and no thing but your mate.

Your Azriel.

You tore your gaze away from the couple, who you already knew were in a relationship. Elain had confessed it to you a month ago, gushing about how their fifth date had gone and how she thought he was the one. She had told you first, knowing that you wouldn’t tell anyone.

After all, who would you tell?

It’s not like you had any friends in Velaris- or in the human lands, for that matter- and your other two sisters were so preoccupied with their mates and growing personal circles that they hardly had the time to look at you, let alone talk to you.

No. You were alone. You were a lockbox for all of her secrets.

Including that she was planning to officially reject the mating bond once Azriel offered a proposal of marriage.

That had made you sick to your stomach, but you had hidden it deep, deep down in your heart as you congratulated her and faked happiness, asking her when she thought he would propose.

“Any day now, I suspect. Azriel told me that he was planning for the future, and wanted to know if I would like to be a part of it,” she had sighed dreamily. “We just need to tell the family, I know that… Rhys was worried about what us being together would mean for court relations. But he’s just being dramatic, don’t you think?” Her chocolate eyes landed on you, so filled with hope that you couldn’t tell her that he was your mate.

“Yes, he’s just worried, ‘Lain. I’m sure everything will be fine,” you managed to say, and relatively normal at that.

That was last night, and while your eyes had drifted to the carpeting, they shot back upwards at the sound of clinking metal on glass.

Your mate, standing with a flute of sparkling wine in his hand and a knife in his other, had his arm locked with Elain’s.

He cleared his throat once he had everyone’s attention, his eyes passing over everyone-

But you. His eyes skipped over you, even now, with the bond flaring in your chest.

“Elain and I have something to announce, though Rhys already knows what it is.” You heard a hand slap against an arm, Rhys’s faked moan of pain, and Nesta scolding her mate. Azriel smiled at their antics, such a rarity on his face that your heart skipped several beats, leaving you lightheaded.

It most certainly wasn’t because of what they were announcing.

“Elain and I have been dating for the past two months, and we would like to make it official with you all now. In fact, the two of us will be moving into a cottage in town later in the month, and we would like to invite you all to join us for a housewarming party in two weeks.”

The inner circle broke into cheers around you, Cassian immediately encasing his brother in his arms and clapping him on the back.

“Congratulations, brother! I know you’ve waited a long time to find love.”

You remained seated where you were, offering a smile to the happy couple but staying put.

If you stood, you were sure to faint. Or be sick. Or both.

Nesta was the only other person who remained where they were, a skeptical look on her face.

“I hate to be the person to bring the party down…” She started, her voice weary. “But what of your mates? Haven’t you wanted one for your whole life, Azriel? What will happen when you find her?”

“If I find her, I will reject the bond, Nesta. My love for Elain eclipses that of what I thought possible, even with a mating bond. Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister,” Azriel answered, which seemed to be enough to have Nesta’s approval, as she stood and made her way to the couple.

“Then I’m happy for the both of you. But if you ever hurt my sister, you will deal with me,” Nesta warned, ice in her tone.

You didn’t stick around to hear what came next.

Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister.

And of course, he was right. How could you compare to Elain?

She was beautiful, yes, but she was also a perfect match for Azriel. Kind and caring, always ready to help people, not to mention she would be a wonderful mother.

And then there was you. Plain. Boring. Nothing special.

Even the Cauldron hadn’t thought anything of you, leaving you with a High Fae body but no magic to speak of.

You couldn’t even fathom why you had been made Azriel’s mate when Elain was such a wonderful pairing to him, and had the magical abilities to match.

You stumbled your way to the town house, where you had taken up residence once Feyre and Rhys had finished the river house. Once inside you quickly made it to your room and shucked off your clothes after locking the door.

Bare, you stood before the mirror and assessed yourself. It was a habit you had picked up once your family had regained their fortune after Feyre had been stolen away.

One that brought you no comfort, but you needed to do.

Your physique was fine, you had filled out in the past year of being fae.

But there was nothing… special about you. You were medium height. Your chest was a bit smaller than average. Your legs were on the shorter side, making your torso look too long.

And your legs… they were covered in small white scars.

Another habit that you had picked up, this time after turning fae.

And tonight would be no different.

You suppose the one saving grace of being turned fae was your quick healing, letting you destroy your body without anyone knowing.

And no one ever would, seeing as your mate was on his way to being married to your sister.

A sigh left your lips as you turned to your bed, fishing the small blade you kept underneath out from below the mattress.

Tonight would be no different.

Except now you knew that even if you confessed your bond to Azriel, your heart would be torn to shreds no matter what.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

It was two months later, during Starfall, that your world crumbled further.

You had donned a plain dress in a midnight blue, with long flowing sleeves and reaching your feet. You had opted for flats, seeing as no one would pay you enough attention to notice if you were in heels or not.

No, no one would notice you at all.

Because Azriel had a ring in his pocket.

One that you had given him advice on, to choose something Elain would love.

A glutton for punishment, that’s what you were as you gazed at the beautiful couple, clad in matching blue outfits and beaming at one another.

You had attempted to stay home that night, only for Azriel himself to personally fly you up to the House of Wind, insisting that you needed to be there for Starfall.

You knew he meant their engagement, though.

He hadn’t even glanced your way once last Starfall, so you knew it wasn’t that you would be missed by him.

Still, you stood on one of the balconies, watching them. Waiting for the moment that your life would be forever altered, never to have a great love.

Because truly, your one chance at a great love was a mating bond. You knew that no one would choose you to spend their life with, not when you were so plain and boring with nothing to draw people in, to get to know you.

They were dancing together, so wrapped up in each other that it was painful to watch.

And then your feet were moving, leading you straight to them. You met them right as the song finished, the two of them just inches apart.

It stung.

“Azriel, may I speak to you for a moment?” You asked without realizing the words had left your mouth. “Alone, please? It will just be a moment, I promise.”

You cringed at yourself.

What were you doing?

Azriel glanced down at Elain, who nodded with a smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss to Elain’s lips before following you back into the House, away from the commotion.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” Azriel asked in a clipped tone once you were alone, anxiously glancing back to where you had left Elain.

“I…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Are you really going to tell him?

“Well?” He asked impatiently, his shadows swirling around him.

“I… I’m your mate,” you said, the words rushing out all at once, and your tore your eyes away from his face and to the floor.

“You’re… You’re joking, right?” Azriel asked incredulously.

A dagger of ice to the heart, crafted of your own yearning and longing for him, for your mate.

“No, I… It’s true, Azriel. I am your mate.” Your eyes flicked back up to his face after you said it again, but you wished you hadn’t.

Anything would be better than seeing the horror in his eyes, the disgust twisting his features.

The dagger, forced in further by a hand smacking the hilt.

“You?” Azriel laughed. “Why would the Cauldron make you my mate?”

Twisting, bleeding, shredding your soul apart even as you felt the bond flare to life on his end, the very slightest stumble as he regarded you.

“I… I don’t know…” You whispered, barely audible.

“You’re not my mate,” Azriel said, stepping away from you. “You were never going to be my mate. You’re a fine enough person, sure, but how could you compare to Elain?” He shook his head, snickering to himself. “I suppose these five hundred years of waiting were for nothing. I’ll tell Cassian or Rhys take you back to the town house. Just…” He sighed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me, hmm?”

And with that, the bond between the two of you was shredded, a wounded cry leaving your lips as you sank to the ground, clutching your chest where it used to reside, glowing brightly and giving you a reason to go on.

“I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out of anything. Goodbye, Y/N.”

You barely heard him walk away, so overwhelmed with pain.

Why me?

Why was I his mate?

Why didn’t I just drown in the Cauldron?

With a great deal of trying, you managed to hoist yourself back onto your feet, stumbling your way to one of the unoccupied balconies, still clutching your chest.

Your gaping, empty chest.

Because Azriel still had your heart. He had shredded it, mangled it beyond believe but it still resided with him, leaving you with nothing but a hole where it used to be.

Your legs crashed into the edge of the balcony, your hands flying to the stone to steady you.

But it didn’t help, everything was still spinning, blood rushing in your ears as your heart kept beating somehow, somehow still physically intact even as you felt it was being ripped from your chest over and over and over.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t live.

The very fact that Elain was so casual, so blasé about shredding a bond to bits had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your sister.

How could she condemn someone to this existence?

Because already, you weren’t living.

This couldn’t be living.

It couldn’t be.

You risked a peak over the edge, spying the sharp, jagged rocks below.

If you weren’t living now…

Before you could second guess your choice, you lifted yourself onto the balcony, letting your legs dangle for a moment.

Then you swung them over the stone, to the side that had nothing to catch you.

Well, nothing but the cold embrace of death.

Which at this point would be a welcome reprieve from the fiery hot grief flooding through you, grief at the bond that was never given a chance, a moment to be considered.

But perhaps that was all the consideration you needed. To know that you would only have been a burden of mate to the male you had fallen for.

You took one last, jagged breath into your lungs before you slid off the smooth stone, air rushing past you and-

This must be what it feels like to fly.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

#the 1 #Azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #elriel #archeron!reader #az x reader #Az x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar #acotar fic #angst #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #mating bond #tato writes

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belphegorey · 7 months ago

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⌜sapphires, mammon⌟ his little human looked so pretty in gold ships ⎯⎯ mammon x fem!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, blushing mammon, dick piercing, scenting, size kink, praise, marking, pact marks, lots of greed

Gold. It dropped down your skin in silken cloth, caressing your body in the thin layer and making you shimmer. Necklaces and bracelets glittered like the finest of treasure on your body. Earrings dangled with more carats than anyone could afford.

The tantalising speck in your eye reflected the same ore. Your wicked smirk taunted him in more and more of the golden decadence you were encased in. The finest of prizes. The treasure all pirates would hunt for, the gift all people would die for, the only thing Mammon would kill for.

Rings hung on your fingers. Rubies, emeralds and diamonds galore. The jewel within the golden earrings, he realised, were perfect sapphires. His chest grew tight as they glittered under the chandeliers. “ Your eyes ,” you had whispered them on your first day in the Devildom, just after Mammon had given you his completely grand tour of the House of Lamentation, “ they’re so blue .”

Mammon could still recall his scoff. You had been so strange. Sure, he had only listened to you for an hour by that point, but he had decided you were not worth his valuable time. Most of his mind had been occupied by whether or not his stocks had lowered during the day. “ They are not blue ,” it had felt like an insult to him at the time. He hadn’t even acknowledged the sheer intrigue upon your beautifully shining face — whereas it was all Mammon could think of now, “ they are like… sapphires. Sapphires and gold. ”

You had nodded with a faint little smile. It was the first smile he had seen of yours. Mammon could describe each expression on your face, and the variety of your grins in great detail, but that one was the most valuable in his mind. Rare, special, and one you had shown him first. “ Sapphires and gold .” Yet again, his mind was occupied with profit, including whether or not he could find a way to sell you as an experiment to Solomon, but even then Mammon had felt pride seeing your soft expression just for him. The first time he had felt something positive toward you, a blissful premonition of your shared future. “ A beautiful combination .”

His tongue tied into knots. It was the worst torture he could have ever endured. Any punishment from Lucifer paled in comparison as he watched you descend into the room with the same small smile on your face. His skin burned hot and the rings around his fingers, one of which you had given him as a gift, did nothing to cool his fire. All his brothers stood around him, watching and praising your every movement, he was sure that Beelzebub had slipped drool onto the floor beneath them. Mammon scrunched his nose to ignore the stabbing in his spine.

His. It was what fuelled him. Greed was what flowed in his veins and blossomed in his throat. You were his. You dressed up in the finest of materials for him . You wore sapphire earrings for him . The little smile on your face was only for him . His brothers were not who you were looking for. They were not the ones who protected you and listened to your every story.

“You look darling, my love,” Asmo moved forward in a movement similar to that of a dance. His steps were delicate and smooth as he whisked you away from Mammon’s eyes. You had gone with him like a true ballerina, performing with your typical delicateness and respect. Mammon was sure that he could hear the growing orchestra of the human ballet play out in his head. Did that make him Hilarion to your Gisele? His fingers twitched as he noticed Diavolo and Barabatos greet you with smiles.

Everyone was watching you. Had you been anyone else Mammon would say it was because of the scarcity in your outfit. He knew better. You were the treasure that sparkled in eyes. No jewel, no car, not even his precious Goldie, were comparable to you. You were his human. He was your demon. Your first demon.

Mammon would not allow himself to just watch you be flaunted by his brother. He jumped to action, the orchestra in his mind crescendoed to a glorious triumph, and Mammon made his way across the room. Your golden dress and the sparkling smile guided him forward, the itching in his back of wins that threatened to burst through fuelled him further. Your eyes, lit brighter than the chandeliers above you, found him and your smile returned. Big, toothy, mischevious. The hand weighed down in glorious rings ran softly against your hip, the jewels catching the light gloriously.

Temptress. You were no worse than one of Asmodeus’ succubi. Mammon loved it. Your tantalising gaze licked at his greedy veins and pressed him to act further. To let loose. To properly remind everyone who you were meant for.

“I’m glad you could make it, Mammon!” Diavolo’s regular grin greeted him while Barbotos stood to his left, arms folded in the usual servant manner. Both of them stared into his body, Mammon could feel the eyes as they fell to the flood of green surging off his soulless body. He attempted a smile to placate the royal before him, but your sparkling person kept poking at the corner of his eye. It felt just wrong to look away from you, especially when the hungry gaze of all the higher demons in the Devildom were staring right at you. “Lucifer had said you would be working tonight.”

He had never been so lucky in his life. It was his own curse to step with misfortune haunting his shadow. His modelling job would always run overtime and Mammon would be left hanging from the roof tied in electric cables as punishment for his tardiness. But not that day. Not only did it finish early, a feat in itself, but Mammon was allowed to witness you in all golden glory. “I was gonna, yeah, but we finished early so i’m able to come and celebrate ya.”

He felt your hand before he properly realised you had moved to stand right beside him. Your touch was feathery, slowly running across his back to tug on the belt loop along his hip. The fire beneath his skin was red hot, your touch was the ice he needed to cool down. A shudder ran down Mammon’s spine as you leaned into him, he felt the fire rise on his cheeks at the stance. So blatant, so obvious, it showed that he was dangled on your arm. Him. No one else.

“But,” you sighed and finished your demonus with a low gaze on the floor. One of the fingers you had caught around his belt loop reached for his hand, linking his finger to yours. His lips were sealed tight as the blushed tortured his physique, “it is a shame but I need to steal Mammon for the night. You won’t mind if we leave a bit early, right?”

Diavolo waved off your worry with a hearty grin, moving with your lie though Mammon (and he was sure you as well) knew that he caught your lie easily. “So long as you come over for afternoon tea with Barbatos and I this week, it will be fine.”

“Of course,” you grinned with a wickedness he could only compared to Satan, though that in itself was like a cat. Your chest pressed into his arm as your grin only grew further. “Should I bring over some cakes?”

It was Barbatos who answered the question; with only a simple shake of his head. “That is unnecessary. I will make sure to prepare both yours and the Young Lord’s favourites for our tea.”

“Delightful! I’ll see you both then,” you bid them both a sweet goodbye with a wave of your fingers. Mammon felt himself stuck in a frozen manner as you pulled him away to the door of the castle. All he could register was the cooling touch of your hand holding his own and the sparkling treasure gracing your body.

Mammon was not one for sharing. He never shared his favourite meals. He never shared his time with you. And he certainly did not share his possessions. The gold bars he kept hidden in his safe, the necklaces and bracelets he never intended to wear and Goldie herself were only meant for him. Yet, he needed to see you dressed in his finest possessions.

It sounded glorious. His bed covered in cash and jewels, with his most important treasure laid in the centre, covered in the jewellery he hoarded and nothing else. Just waiting for him to touch. Begging for him. Needing him.

Your visage for the night’s gala was just a little treat for the reality of his dream.

“Where are ya takin’ me?” He tugged on your joined hands in resistance and grimaced as the collar of his suit choked on him. Mammon wanted nothing more than to follow your every step, but his own attitude had to intervene. The door of the castle opened and granted Mammon a warm breeze through the Devildom night. The moons were tall in the dark sky, shining bright enough to make your jewellery glitter. “Lucifer is gonna punish us. Nah, he is gonna punish me and then say I took ya myself.”

You giggled and he felt his tongue tie together. He loved that noise, more than when the slots would make that fantastic winning chime. “I just had a thought,” you stopped walking and turned around to smile at him. His hand was still caught in yours, and you pulled him in so that your chest pressed together. “Everyone is with Diavolo, so we have the house to ourselves…”

Evil temptress. You were pure evil! Mammon groaned and hid behind his free hand, the blush burning red on his cheeks. “You can’t say that kinda stuff,” he whined into his palm, and your resounding giggle only made him whine louder. It was wicked and you knew it! Maybe you really were part succubi. “It’ll gimme ideas.”

You moved his hand from his face, lips dangerously close to touching him. Mammon was frozen once again. Does he do it. Does he grant himself the kiss he had dreamed of? He needed it, more than he needed the newest 666 Lexura (on Lucifer’s dime) but he couldn’t if you weren’t wanting it. Mammon would wait for an eternity for you. “And if I want you to have those ideas?”

From then on, it was Mammon who led you to the House of Lamentation. The searing burn of his skin was nothing to the icy touch you offered, he needed it all over his body. Your hand was tightly gripped in the veiny grasp of his fist, but you no made no cries.

There was only gleeful laughter as you ran along beside him. Mammon didn’t allow himself the pleasure of moaning over your beautiful laugh, not when he knew what was awaiting him inside the large doors it the house. As much as he did love your laugh, he was just dying to hear your moans instead.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look so determined,” you whispered it into his ears as he fumbled with the handles of the front door. Stupid faulty lock. Stupid prank from Belphegor to annoy Lucifer. Your lips were inches from his ear, more teasing speech sounding like the song of sirens to lure him in, “want me that bad?”

No speaking. If he spoke Mammon knew he would mess everything up and wake up from the dream he had to have been having. Instead he successfully pushed the front door open and whisked you away to his bedroom. Where you belonged.

It all just felt so right having you inside his space. Your scent has gotten so faint over the days it had been since your movie night together. The aura you held, so mischevious in its purity, tainted by his pact. He could see the black blemish along your soul all around you, burned by the mark along your sternum.

And yet, it just fuelled him so much more. It was all his. You were his. You were dressed up all for him, ready to be coated in his treasure, and smiling at him in wait for his next step. You stood in front of his bed, fingers trailing down the golden dress you tortured him with. It would be so easy to push you back onto the mattress and ravage you as he had desired for far too long.

Mammon was sure that his breathing was ragged and shallow, he must have resembled a monster. His hair was messed from his own awkward hands as he tried to stay calm and the tingling of his wings still taunted his back in wait. One more step and the control over himself would combust.

He was always weak when it came to you.

“Mammon,” you whispered his name like it were a crime. So soft spoken, not wanting to break the bubble. Your mischief, the teasing, it had gone. All that stood left before him was the radiating greed from your form, drowning his mind in the finest of liquor, “I need you.”

Snap . He heard the crack of his wings hitting the air before Mammon properly felt them extend from his back. They tore through the suit he wore as he pounced on you, your back falling to the mattress under his body.

You were so small. He was not the largest demon, but there was something in the sheer difference in your frames. Your face was cast in his shadow, your alluring eyes large as you stared up at him. There was no fear when his claw tore through the front of your dress.

Instead, there was a bright smile, the one he loved, when you realised what he was doing. “Yours, Mammon,” your hands found his hair and the horns protruding from them, pushing your chest closer to his face. The torn gold along your chest had revealed your glorious body to him, but most importantly, the mark that made you his.

“Mine,” the word was like a growl on his tongue as he watched the mark. It glowed in his presence, even more of the glorious gold that he loved. “Had to watch ya be shown off. I felt sick watchin’ but I couldn’t look away from ya, Treasure.”

You lifted a leg around his hips to press yourself against his erection. Mammon felt his cheeks go red from the shame but your shaky moan at the touch melted it away. His greedy little human, it felt amazing to know he was not the only one desperate. “Did I look pretty for you?”

“So so pretty,” he pushed up the skirt of your dress, letting the long material bunch at your waist. He wouldn’t let you take it off, maybe not for a long time. His colour was just too beautiful on you. “Gonna need you to wear this every day.”

You shuddered against him as Mammon ran a long finger along your cunt. No underwear. He had always heard Asmo talk about how you couldn’t wear panties with some clothes, but he just thought it was a lie. And yet, you were on display for him just like that. “That may be hard since you tore the front,”

“Ain’t no one else seeing you in this.” No. No, he couldn’t be having that. Even if you were in an outfit that covered all your skin under hundreds of layers, Mammon would still prefer it for his eyes alone. The wet heat on his fingers made his head spin in horny glee, the sweet smell of you making his eyes roll. “Just for me from now on. Got it? Me.”

You pushed against his seeking hand, rubbing more of your slick onto his palm. His erection throbbed in his pants. He needed to feel you. Feel all of you. “I sound like a doll then.”

His wings flapped and Mammon bit his lip. Doll. That worked. He rather liked it. “My doll, though, not my brothers,” he dug his head into the crook of your neck. Your smell was so strong, it streamed from every pore in your skin, he felt intoxicated. The growing lust, the overwhelming greed, even the licks of pride that often made his face scrunch were delicious from you. “Need ya really bad, human.”

You stroked his hair and rolled your hips against him. “Then, have me,”

The soft words had spurred action within you both. Mammon had gone into his back while you adjusted yourself to straddle him, his erection flush against his toned chest and leanings beads of white. Your eyes never strayed from his dick, he felt like glowing under your approving gaze.

“You have piercings?” Mammon nodded with a smirk, shining from the wetness he could feel growing on his thighs. You liked it. He should have known you would.

Your hand gently went to grasp his cock, thumb running along the golden piercing beneath the head. His moaned through his teeth at your curious touch. You did it again, gauging his reaction and milking another bead of precum from his slit.

Mammon noticed the bite of your lip, the slow grinding of your hips and the flooding lust in the air. He wanted to show off for you, tease you, and simultaneously ask if you wanted him to get more. “I really like it,” you eventually said, rubbing your palm against him as you lifted yourself into the air.

He dug his fingers into the mattress beneath him. It was happening. The thing he had craved. Something Mammon would have sold all his belongings for. You. He got to have you!

You aligned his dick with your entrance, whimpering as he entered. Your golden dress had fallen down and hid the act from his eyes, which may be a good thing because Mammon knew he would never be able to tear his eyes from it. He groaned as you slid down the shaft, taking more and more of him in such a slow movement that it felt torturous.

Until, he was completely in you, pushing you and stretching you out. He could feel your cunt tight and warm around him, throbbing in need for only his touch. Your face was scrunched in desire as your lip wobbled. His little human. All full.

“Doing so well, Treasure,” he moaned the praise into the air, his hand right on your hip. The glow of his pact mark fuelled the flames inside his body, only triumphed as your tits slipped from the torn dress. Mammon couldn’t help himself. “My human. Lookin’ all pretty for me,” he continued to whispered all the praise he had ever thought of when it came to you, moving himself up and closer to your chest.

When his mouth kissed the skin around your breast, your body shook as you moaned. He graced his fangs to see your reaction — it was just as needy as the last. You began to move on his dick, bouncing up and down while you pulled on his hair.

More marks. He wanted to leave enough marks on you that no one would dare go near you. Mammon squeezed his hand in your waist as he bit gently on your chest, and to his surprise you giggled through your shaky moan. “Am I your property now, Mammon?”

“Not property,” he was quick to dismiss that. You were his, but not an object. You were his favourite treasure, someone to worship. “You’re mine though. Don’t ya forget that or else.”

Your movements were that of a succubi. You’d managed to get him nice and deep inside you, threatening his control over just filling you up with his cum each time, then pulling him out so just his tip would kiss your opening.

And yet, your face was angelic and oh so sweet. Mammon was enamoured. “I won’t ever forget,” he couldn’t help but nuzzle into your neck again. It felt so safe. Mammon kissed your neck as he moved his other hand to your hip, moving your body with your bouncing, adding just the slightest bit more speed.

His favourite doll. His sapphire and his gold. His.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me! mammon #om! mammon #shall we date mammon #obey me smut #obey me! smut #obey me! shall we date smut #obey me! mammon smut #mammon smut #mammon obey me #mammon obey me smut #om!swd smut #om!swd mammon #om! smut #om! mammon smut #⌜writing⌟

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mara-and-its-the-same · 4 months ago

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let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit.

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?”

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents. Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed.

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures?

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle.

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin.

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you.

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door.

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch.

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh.

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question.

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other.

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this.

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice.

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours.

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you.

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires.

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold.

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you.

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch.

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso.

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor.

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips.

#danny lyon x reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #mara's fics #danny x reader #mike faist x reader #the bikeriders smut

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carnivore-voyeur · 5 months ago

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A Lengthy List of Per Eriksson Facts for Future Reference

(Based on the Live he did on Instagram. I rewatched it and made a list so you don't have to)

He's a t-shirt collector and he (allegedly) has more t-shirts than Jutty Taylor.

He says he barely paid attention in school b/c he was too busy playing guitar.

His favorite tattoo is the one on his chest. It was his first tattoo.

The back tattoo took several sessions and 30+ hours. It was very painful.

His stomach tattoo hurt the most. It's his least favorite and he wants to get it removed.

He took out his lip piercing b/c it was uncomfortable to eat with. He kept biting it.

He likes playing realistic first person shooter games. He's a PC and Xbox gamer.

His favorite guitar is the Fender Stratocaster. It's the one he uses in Ghost.

He was invited to see Rite Here Rite Now in LA.

He saw Ghost for the first time in 2011 when he was in Katatonia.

He started out as a touring guitar tech and worked for Opeth, Meshuggah, Dark Funeral, Katatonia, and more.

He's been playing guitar for 35 years and he thinks he's a mediocre guitar player.

Per started out learning how to play drums b/c his older brother was a drummer.

He had his necklace custom made in 1999/2000. He rarely takes it off.

He says his Finnish is not good.

He doesn't speak Spanish very well either. He understands more than he can speak.

He's a Snoopy fan b/c his mom got him a Snoopy plushie when he was two. He still has it.

His favorite horror movie is The Shining. He prefers the movie to the book.

His favorite Katatonia song is Sweet Nurse.

He loves animals.

He does enjoy black metal.

He thinks his hair sucks.

His favorite horror game is Silent Hill II.

He had an apartment in Barcelona, but he no longer lives there.

He was in a band called Genocrush Ferox that he says was a technical death metal band.

His favorite food is tacos.

His favorite band is Macabre.

His favorite colors are black, red, and purple.

He's seen Metallica live many times. It was his favorite band when he was a kid.

He says the hardest part of touring is traveling and boredom.

He loves true crime and he studied serial killers. He doesn't support them, just interested in their psychology.

He'd love to play with King Diamond some day.

He prefers still water to bubbly water.

He's seen SOAD live a couple times.

Toto was one of the first bands he saw live.

He's played Dead by Daylight but it gave him motion sickness.

He gets nervous playing live.

He loves good drummers.

He plays guitar, bass, and drums. He likes to sing too but says he's not great at it.

He says he had a bad experience meeting one of his heroes.

He's seen Rammstein and loves them.

He loves the word dong because they use it in his favorite show, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

He doesn't understand why he has fans.

He says he will never do anything with Bloodbath ever again.

He hates social media.

He absolutely loves his baphomet plushies.

He prefers dark evil horror than gore.

He likes it when people call him babygirl.

He doesn't like anime.

#per eriksson

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zipora666 · 9 months ago

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something I need to share with you guys..its been on my mind for months ..I HAD WH O’’C BUT NEVER SHARE IT AND NOW IM DONE WITH IT SO :>

Meet.. BUDDY MONKEY!

Do you feel like your pocket got empty a bit? You want adventures and do silly pranks? BUDDY MONKEY ITS JUST FOR YOU!

So the story is buddy monkey is a character show on the summer episodes and whenever there is adventures and danger! He’s a pirate lives in a ship and he always like to find shiny stuff and treasure! he will treat you like as your big brother! He like to be sneaky and if you find your wallet missing you won’t be surprised it’s from him but dw he will return it to you (eventually) he like to do silly pranks and make others smile (but remember! He will never go far with his pranks or do on. People that are more sensitive) he is a gentleman and good “mama’s boy you can say!

some stuff they never knew: where he came from who was his family or his real name and if you look closely at the episodes at first he was ok with wally darling but with the time you can see he barely talk to him...something is off ..BUT ANYWAY LETS CONTINUE!

Ship design

More lore to know yes he do have a rare bird..the story behind it he say like this:

buddy moneky: I find the bird when I travel to a land full of birds that was going to be doomed or destroyed when I got there and I saw all the creatures panic and the birds flew off but i hear someone was in danger I run and cut the trees with my swords to make my path easier and found a majestic unknown bird..not from this world look like and was injured on the wing then I look up saw a tree will fell on them I immediately grab the bird and go to the ship Idk what happend there ..but right when I was on the ship looking behind me ...the land got destroyed.

monkey buddy took her as his new travel partner he realize it’s a female bird called her “dimly diamond” Bc the moment the sun hit her feathers they shine like 1000 of diamonds

(The design)

dimly diamond is a rare bird and may be the last one..they can live many years and buddy monkey like to spoil her with jewels and everything she needs so this bird very close to him and will protect him in any danger!

Now Bc I like to spoil my fav artists so..here ya go!

(@cloudy-dreams,@sketchquill,@sketchy-tour,@xx-sketchy-xx,@qep0ermint)

WAIT THERES HUMAN VERSION TOO!?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH *ahem* excuse me ☝️

(Damn it’s been long time I did anime guys-)

Hope you all enjoy I had this character for idk..2-3 months or more lol

Forgot to mention he can stretch his body very long!

#my art #welcome home #art #fanart #welcome home au #Buddy monkey!#buddy monkey WH #buddy monkey welcome home #Ms honee #vince vineyard #original oc #WH o”c

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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 08)

Soap/Reader — MDNI 18+

Sorry for the wait as usual. Hope y’all can forgive me!

/:/:/:/:/:/:/

FEBRUARY — FRIDAY: 7 days until the wedding

In the month or so after Christmas, your relationship with Johnny had progressed considerably. He was on a particularly challenging tour, but you only heard about his work in sparse mentions. Most of his conversations were centered around your relationship “after we tell Pidge”.

It was all he wanted to talk about.

“After we tell Pidge, we can look for a place together in Glasgow. What do you say, lass?”

“After we tell Pidge, we can take trips with them. Always wanted to see Iceland.”

“After we tell Pidge…”

And on and on and on. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited to be with him. You adored him, and he seemed to feel the same way about you. But, telling Pidge was scaring you out of your damn mind. In the worst case scenario, you’d be losing your best friend and the man that you…

Careful, that dark voice was back in your head , don’t want to say the word, huh?

The man that you… liked a considerable amount. Not love. Love was a commitment. You were not in love.

The dark voice cackled. You ignored it.

You were going to see him this weekend for the combination stag and hen party, and you could think of little else. But, you had plenty to work on. As the maid of honor, this was your time to shine. You needed to prepare for more than just seeing Johnny. In fact, you were about to have six girls at your tiny apartment for a slumber party tomorrow night. The whole 600 square feet of your place was decorated in gold glitter and streamers. There were big B-R-I-D-E letters above your bed, and a giant inflatable diamond ring was propped up on your futon. You’d already sprayed Marlowe twice with the water bottle for threatening it with her claws.

Tonight, though, you were alone. You had asked Johnny if he would fly in early, but he hadn’t been able to confirm. So, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your phone, dressed only in his shirt, praying for some miracle.

You stayed up as late as you could, but still no call.

SATURDAY — Early morning: 6 days until the wedding

Your phone buzzed where it lay against your chest. You slowly awoke, and it was still dark outside. Bleary and only semi-conscious, you picked it up without looking at the screen,

“Hello?” You croaked.

“Mo mèirleach,” he whispered, “Open the door, hen. It’s fuckin’ frigid.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. Johnny was outside? You looked at the clock. It was 0311.

“I’m downstairs! Buzz me up.”

You did, and then you waited, waking up more and more as you stood in the kitchen, drinking some water to clear your dry throat.

He knocked softly, and you let him in. Immediately, and without so much as dropping his rucksack, he pulled you into his arms. You smelled his sweat, a strong hint of fire or smoke, and something you couldn’t quite place. It was almost like gasoline, but not quite. He’d come straight from the field.

“Hey,” he pressed his forehead to yours and kissed you gently, smelling your skin and nuzzling into your hair.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, hugging him a little tighter.

Having him back was making you feel like no time had passed at all. He held you just as he did when he told you goodbye in December, and now, all of January felt like some wasted dream.

You looked behind him,

“Where are the others? I thought you said they’d be coming to the party this weekend.”

“Put them up at a wee hotel. The Indigo, just a few blocks away. But, I’ve been sleepin’ on the fuckin’ floor too many nights, now. And I wanna be in my woman’s arms instead.”

His woman. Your heart clenched in your chest. He noticed your emotional response to his words; always the observant one. His smile felt so good, even though he had caught you in his snare,

“Aye. You’re my woman, aren’t you?”

Huge, rough hands warmed your skin as they snaked underneath your shirt, reaching up across your belly, finding your hanging breasts and squeezing them ever so gently.

“Shower with me, lass. I’m right filthy.”

“Alright,” you nodded, and he pulled your shirt off the rest of the way, discovering the nothing you were wearing underneath.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Johnny lamented, holding you at arm’s length to study your skin and curves with a deep admiration, “Look at you, mèirleach. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dreamin’.”

You led him to the bathroom, which you doubted was big enough for the both of you, and he stripped off all of his dirty clothes. You helped him, peeling him apart, layer by layer, discovering him in pieces.

His broad chest filled your vision in the tiny washroom, and you latched onto his nipple, tasting the salt from his sweat as you did and listening to him moan. He laughed from the sudden sensation of it,

“It’s sensitive, lass. Easy…”

Your eyes found his, showing him that you knew what it felt like, and you did not relent. You enjoyed watching him squirm beneath you, his hands resting on the side of your neck, threatening to pull you away when he became overwhelmed.

You gave him a break, kissing across his tattooed ribs and over his belly. He lifted your face up to his, pressing you against the bathroom counter, growling in whispers at you,

“Careful, thief. Don’t go givin’ me ideas.”

“What kind of ideas, Johnny?” You teased, dragging his boxers down over his plump ass to squeeze his cheeks in your hands.

“Ideas about what I’d like to put in that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

He grabbed your hand and shoved it onto his hard cock, still covered by his boxer briefs, the fabric askew and taut, ready to come off.

“See what you fuckin’ do to me, thief?”

You smiled, staring down at the evidence of what you had done to him. You took his hand and slowly moved it between your legs, letting him curl and experimental finger up just far enough to dip into your wetness.

“See what you do to me?”

He shuddered, his body falling forward, and he caught himself with his free hand on the countertop, pinning you beneath him. He was playing inside of you with his fingertip, as achingly slowly and gently as could be, barely moving it, basking in your warmth. His face contorted into a twisted grimace, and he grunted,

“Fuckin’ hell, mèirleach. Get in the damn shower, or I’ll have you right here, lass.”

The shower curtain rings hissed across their metal rod as he followed you inside. You washed your hair, and you used your soapy hands to wash his. The soap turned brown with dirt and sand, and you made a face, laughing,

“Johnny! You are filthy.”

“Yeah, we ran into some trouble at the end of our mission. Lost contact with base. Had to camp in the wee mountains for a few nights, tryin’ not to freeze to death.”

“Holy shit…”

You pitied him, using your vanilla scented soap to scrub down his body for him, letting him be treated to your sudsy massage.

“Knowin’ I was comin’ back to you kept me goin’. I dreamt about this wee shower, hen. Even Ghost was surprised that I was able to keep my whingin’ to a minimum. But, I knew you were here and I wasnae gonna let anythin’ stop me from comin’ home to you.”

He bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back, letting the water wash over you both, bathing you in the heat of each other. He pulled away, grinning like he’d won something, and you felt the blush rise into your cheeks.

You made the hand signal for him to turn around and he spun, giving you his wide back, planting both of his hands on the wall like you were going to search him.

You started at his neck, washing away days of dirt and grime, feeling his swollen muscles pull and push against his bones. He had a new tattoo on his spine. It was a little Gaelic word that you couldn’t read.

With your fingertip, you traced over the black ink, softly rubbing over the raised skin, healed but fresh. He stilled, realizing you’d noticed it.

“Gealladh. It means ‘promise’.”

You wiped it clear of soap and lay your lips to it, kissing it softly, making him tremble beneath you. You tried to pronounce it, whispering it against his skin.

The rest of the shower went quickly, and by the time you were clean, he was ready to get dirty again, fondling you and rubbing across his curved length hungrily.

He wrapped you in your towel and watched you braid your hair, kissing your neck and sharing your toothbrush. You tried not to be grossed out by it, but you made a face and he rolled his eyes, spitting out the paste into your sink and trying to kiss you with his messy lips. You giggled, leaving him in the bathroom to finish up.

The cool air in your apartment made you clamber to get under the covers, eager to warm up and anxious for him to join you. He sauntered out of the bathroom looking like some Greek god, wet and tanned, tattooed and scarred, fresh from the bonds of war.

He threw his towel down with yours and climbed into bed next to you, curling you up in his arms, sighing with the most delighted contentment. His big jaw pressed into the side of your neck, looking for purchase, and he began to suck and lick at your skin, traveling down your shoulder to your nape, sending shivers down your arms.

“Did you miss me, mo mèirleach?” His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him.

“I did, mo chridhe,” you whispered back, turning your body to face him.

He took both of your hands in both of his and kissed your forehead. All of his sexual overtones and lurid advances in the shower had somehow been washed away, and as the orange blush of dawn came through your window, he looked changed. His hair was soft, the mohawk all grown out and curling at the tips, his eyes glassy and full of something that looked suspiciously like hope.

“I know this has been hard on you, lass. I’ve been more than just a wee bit selfish, and I want you to know I’ll make it right. I promise you that. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, pressing your cheek to his chest, inching closer to him. He wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you too close.

Did you believe him? Would everything work out for the best? Or were you continuing down a path that would lead to ruin? How easy it was for him to convince you of the opposite. He could lead you like a lamb to the slaughter, and you’d go willingly, bleating up at him with all your love and affection as he pushed you into the chute.

His arm became heavy, and you heard his breaths lengthen in his chest, and you knew he was asleep. You had an alarm set, so you curled up in his warmth, letting him doze, allowing yourself to sink into the murky blackness of sleep along with him.

SATURDAY — Lunchtime: 6 days until the wedding

Johnny had changed into something clean and left you in bed, kissing your face and promising all sorts of filthy things to you after the bar crawl tonight. He begged you to dance with him when you wound up at the club, washing away your worries about Pidge, claiming she’d be too drunk to notice. You rushed him out, warning him she’d be here for lunch, and washed your sheets.

Sure enough, your phone rang and Pidge was outside your apartment, screaming with six other girls to be buzzed up not an hour after Johnny left, and you breathed a sigh of relief they’d missed each other coming and going.

You had the whole day planned out. Lunch was at a little cafe near the river, perfect for a photo op or two. Then, you’d booked a nail salon for mani-pedis for the whole squad. After that, it was back to the apartment to put on your faces before going “out-out”.

For the most part, the day had been a wild success. Pidge was already a little tipsy from the non-stop mimosas, and even though your bank account had seen better days, it wasn’t that bad. Now, you were in the middle of the evening ferality. Someone had ordered a pizza and there was hairspray in places you didn’t think hairspray could go. Marlowe was hiding in her cubby under your bed, and you were already done getting ready.

You’d told everyone it was black and white themed. Ham and Pidge would be in white, with all of you in black, and the goal at the end of the night was for them to find each other by hopping from bar to bar. The stag would chase the hen through downtown Glasgow, and you’d planned to have them all end up at The Berkeley Suite.

There were girls everywhere. It was like a bomb had gone off in your apartment, and there wasn’t really a space for privacy except for the bathroom (as long as you shooed everyone out of it first).

“I’ll just be a second!” You shouted over the thumping music, closing the door behind them.

You took care of business and spent a brief minute checking your phone. You had two texts from Johnny, and when you opened them, your breath caught in your throat.

Mo Chridhe: open this when youre alone thief

Mo Chridhe: blacksuit.jpg

Johnny had sent you a mirror selfie of his outfit, and he looked stunning. You couldn’t believe it was him. You’d never seen him so dressed up. His hair was shaven on the sides, the mohawk back to its full potential, and his suit was a gorgeous black with velvet lapels and a gold chain between the button holes. He wore no tie, instead letting the first two buttons hang open rakishly, showing off his tanned chest.

You texted him back:

You: you are still so damn hot lol

Mo Chridhe: show me you

You obeyed, taking a racy selfie in the bathroom mirror just like he had done. You showed off your cleavage , and the short, high cut of the dress as it hugged your ass. You tried your best to be pouty, just like all the Instagram models, but you weren’t sure if you succeeded.

Mo Chridhe: i might be the luckiest cunt alive or im dreamin

You: lol ;)

Mo Chridhe: ham might be chasin pidge all night but ill be chasin you

You smiled down at your phone before closing the app and returning to the fray.

Glittered, glammed, and ready for a night of debauchery, you took your phone off its charger and made your way out into the cold evening air. Pidge had brought a jacket, but Cherise had decided to go without, claiming that hot girls didn’t get cold. You were definitely cold, so you wondered what that implied.

The first stop was The Variety Bar. You had texted Johnny and told him to warn you before their first bar choice so that you could pay the tab and bolt before Hamish could put his hands on Pidge. But, it didn’t really work out like that. You had all ended up as one big group, and spent most of the time jokingly keeping them from kissing each other. Price held up a wet coaster between their mouths which sent Pidge coughing and spitting, causing enough of a ruckus that you decided to move to the next spot.

Johnny sat with you at the bar while you paid, trying his best to keep his hands off of you.

“Lookin’ like a right goddess tonight, you are.”

“Stop it,” you smiled, “No flirting allowed while your sister is literally right behind us.”

“Och,” he shook his head, “She’s in her own wee world. Where to next, lass?”

You slid the check back to the bartender and thanked him, turning to Johnny and smirking triumphantly, knowing he still needed to pay before he could follow you,

“Don’t you hunt people for a living? Come and get me.”

You left him at the bar, frozen with a delightful look of surprise on his face. You found Pidge and the other girls outside.

“Alright,” you smiled, “Onward. Let’s head over to Max’s.”

“Oh, God,” Anjali sighed, “You really want her to blackout, huh?”

“Fuck it! Max’s it is, ladies!” Pidge screamed.

Everyone cheered and marched on after her. She cuddled into your arm as you walked,

“Thank you so much for this, babes. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, you know that?”

“You are, too,” you kissed her on her temple and squeezed her arm a bit tighter.

By the time you’d had two drinks at Max’s, Hamish’s clan found you again. Gaz was the one who spotted you through the window, holding his hands up to the glass and pointing you out.

“Uh oh,” you smiled, “Last call, girls.”

Cherise laughed,

“I don’t know why we’re running. Might as well just party with them.”

“It’s tradition, right?” Bekah rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Pidge shrugged, “You all can wait here then, if you prefer the boys to me.”

“No! Pidge, that’s not it, babe,” Cherise protested.

Pidge drunkenly waved her off,

“It’s fine, no worries. See you at Berkeley’s. How about that?”

Pidge stormed off out the door, and you followed behind trying to get her to calm down. She eventually did, drinking the water you had bought for her. But, that was how the group got split. Half the boys ended up with you and Pidge and Anjali, and the other half waited at Max’s until the happy hour rounds were over.

You’d gotten all settled in at Berkeley, listening to the loud club music, letting the high of your buzz wash over you, trying not to think about how nice it would be to have Johnny here, dancing with you like he promised.

Then, Pidge realized she forgot her jacket, so she sent you back to the other bar. You left her with Gaz and Ghost, and Price wandered out into the street with you.

“‘Bout time Hamish finally caught his hen anyway,” you speculated as you walked with him.

“Aye,” he agreed, “And maybe your stag as well.”

Your eyes darted up to him and then checked over your shoulder, just to make sure Pidge wasn’t behind you.

Price continued,

“Are you sure keepin’ him a secret is the right thing? He’s dyin’ to tell her. Fuck, he was tellin’ people he didn’t even know about you.”

You smiled,

“Yeah, I know. I just want the wedding to be about her. Nothing is ever about her, you know? She deserves to have a day where she doesn’t need to consider other people’s feelings for once.”

“What about your feelings?” Price asked.

You didn’t answer him. You just shrugged and kept walking. Suddenly, you heard screaming behind you,

“Wait! Wait up!”

Pidge and the rest of the crew rushed over to you and Price.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“We’re gonna surprise Hamish this time,” Pidge smiled, pulling out a big confetti popper from her purse.

“Oh, God,” you grinned, looping your arm through hers and dragging her along.

Nothing was going according to plan that night, but you were so tired that it was hard for you to care. You weren’t even sure if Hamish’s group was still at the other bar, and you hadn’t heard a thing from Bekah or Cherise.

Finally, you made it back to Max’s. Just as you were about to open the door, it burst open and out poured Johnny, tangled in Bekah’s arms. She was giggling and kissing his cheek, leaving streaks of purple lipstick all over his freshly shaven skin. He was holding her close to him, his fingers digging into her side so tightly.

You knew what that felt like.

You gasped, stepping back, stunned. He looked right into your eyes and stopped. The whole world came to a grinding halt. All of the time that you had spent together seemed to lay out in front of you, prostrating itself, and being found unworthy. You felt nothing. Just a creeping numbness that leaked into your core, a fire burning without kindling, unable to be extinguished.

“Och, Jesus and all the fuckin’ saints,” Pidge threw her hands up, “Couldnae even wait until after the party to get your hands into one of my mates, could you? Arsehole. Get outta the way.”

“No, tha’s not it, Pidge!” He frowned, “Bekah doesnae —”

“Bekah, what?” Pidge spat in his face, “Bekah doesnae care that you’ll turn up next month or next year or next week in a box with the wee Scottish flag draped over it? Okay. Now, move yourself from the door, Jonathan.”

Bekah was sort of octopusing herself around him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, sucking on his earlobe, caring very little about the Scottish flag no matter where it was draped.

Johnny was trying to fight her off now, suddenly angry at Pidge,

“What did you just say to me, Brigette?”

“Oh, shut up! You’re just like your da, and you’ll end up dead like him, too. See?” Pidge turned to you suddenly, eyes wild with fury, “This is why I warned you, Johnny MacTavish is a fuckin’ widowmaker. And that’s all he’ll ever be.”

She finally made it around her brother and wrenched the door open, disappearing into the club. Johnny still had Bekah in his arms, and you couldn’t be there anymore. You turned and walked in the direction of your apartment, miles away but hell-bent on getting back there.

“Hey! Wait! Thief, please. This isn’t what it looks like,” his voice was cold and distant. You didn’t turn around to listen. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you didn’t need to see it to know how it felt.

Johnny could have Bekah. He was allowed to have her. He was not allowed to have you, and you couldn’t have him. That much was clear now. You should’ve listened to your friend. You’d known all along, hadn’t you?

“Wait, mèirleach!”

You spun on him like a snake, striking out sure and true,

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He could see in your eyes that you were serious, venomous as you were in your delivery. His eyes looked desperate, like a kicked dog, but he didn’t let her go. She smiled and waved at you, looking drunker than you’d ever seen anyone look. You tasted the bile in your mouth from your disgust.

Price jogged to keep up with you, and he grabbed your arm,

“Wait, girl. Just wait a second.”

You jerked your hand away and hailed a cab that was pulled over on your side of the street. You climbed in and shut the door, begging the cabbie to drive quickly, and he did. You stared out the window, watching all of the lights blind you as they seared into your eyes, burning the images you’d seen that night brightly into your memory.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 09

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harlowsbby · 1 year ago

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Late Nights In

Requested, being laid up with Jack and the two of you just spending some much needed time alone together.

“Shit that shit hurts babe.” Jack groaned.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you just learned how to keep straight! Whenever you move I end up plucking your skin instead.” You told him and leaned his head back.

Jack was soon regretting his decision on staying in tonight instead of going on with the boys. Since Jack had just gotten back from tour all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

But he didn’t know spending time with you would lead to you plucking his eyebrow and placing a bunch of pimple patches to pimples that he didn’t even know he had.

“You were the one that was curious to know what it felt like so I’m showing you.” You told him as you concentrated on his eyebrows.

“Alright I love you but that’s enough.” He whined and pushed your hands away from his face gently. You stiffed a laugh but nonetheless sat up.

Jack’s hand were on either side of your waist as you sat on top of him. “So what do you wanna do now?”

“What do you usually do on your little self care nights when I’m not here?” He asked.

“Well I order in some food, I put a few pimple patches on my face, drink lots of lemon water.” He grimaced at the mention of lemon water.

“Okay so we won’t do the lemon water.” You laughed. “Ooo let’s do face mask and after I’ll apply the little pimple patches to you face, then we can make some food?”

“Sounds good babe.” He smiled and the two of you made your way into the bathroom.

Jack stood there as you got all of your products out, his eyebrows scrunched together when you went to place a pink headband on his head that pushed back his curls.

He didn’t mind it but it was the big pink bow on top of it that threw him off. “What is this for?” He asked.

“You use it to push your hair back whenever you do your skincare so stuff doesn’t get into your hair.” You told him. “Which mask do you wanna use?”

You held up two mask one was a aloe mask used to make your skin shine and glow and the other was a clay mask that was used to clean pores that were deep in the skin.

“Hmm let’s do the clay on last time you had me looking like a shiny diamond with the other mask.” You huffed but nonetheless placed the mask on his face.

The two of you sat there for about fifteen minutes to let the mask do it’s work. You sat on the counter while Jack stood between your legs.

“Let’s play a little game while these dry?” He suggested. “Okay what’s the game.” He grinned.

“It’s called what’s my biggest ick, we both tell one another what our biggest ick’s about each other are.”

You squinted your eyes at Jack slightly. “And what makes you think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think it’s a good idea but come on I know I don’t have any bad ick’s.” You laughed.

“Okay so my biggest ick about you is the fact that you take hours to get ready.” Jack said with a smirk on his face.

“And? I’m a woman I’m gonna take hours to get ready.” You told him. “You can’t get mad they said this is good therapy for couples.” Jack said quickly.

“Okay Jack since this is good therapy.” You stated with a bitter tone.

“My biggest ick about you is the fact that you treasure those damn Pokémon cards more than me.” He gasped and covered his mouth with his hands.

“No you didn’t.” He said in disbelief.

“Did I lie? I mean come on I love Pokémon too but you literally dust off every single page everyday, you won’t even go to bed until you’ve counted each card and cleaned each card.”

You weren’t lying Jack treated his Pokémon collection like it was gold.

One night the two of you were in the bed just kissing and loving on each other when he suddenly remembered he had to go clean them.

“You know what I don’t think I wanna play this game anymore.” He mumbled making you laugh.

“Oh don’t act like that now when you just stated you can’t get mad now.” You mimicked his voice.

“But come on it’s time to take these off.” You told him and removed his mask along with your face, after you took them off you washed your face and Jack washed his.

You placed a few flower themed pimple patches on the red spots on his face and the two of you made your way downstairs.

“What are we making?” You looked through the fridge trying to find something that looked good but nothing seemed to pop out to you.

“You wanna order in some wings and fries?” Jack nodded his head and took out his wallet. “Sounds good baby.”

While the two of you waited for the food to arrive you both laid on the couch together trying to find something to watch before the food got there.

“What do you feel like watching? Something scary or something cute.”

You asked Jack as you scrolled through all the different types of movies on Netflix but Jack wasn’t paying attention though, he was focused on you.

Jack appreciated nights like this he loved how you didn’t care to spend a night in with him and that you weren’t all about the going out and being seen type vibe.

He was lucky he had someone who was understanding of his lifestyle, someone who understood him and loved him for him.

He knew nobody was perfect but you on the other hand you were perfect in his eyes at least.

“Jack?!” The sound of your voice brought him out of his little trance. There you sat with a worried look on your face. “Yeah babe?”

“I’ve been calling you name for the past five minutes are you okay?” You asked him. He smiled and nodded.

“I’m okay I’m just admiring my girl.” He grinned when you looked away but he knew you had a small smile on your face.

“Why you hiding? Lemme see that face.” He leaned up a bit on his spot from the couch and grabbed your chin and turned your face to meet his.

“You know I don’t like when you hide from me.” He said. “I know.” You mumbled.

“So why are you hiding?” You shrugged your shoulders. “You just make me nervous but in a good way.” You told him and Jack chuckled.

“I love you.” He whispered softly. “I love you too Jack but hurry up and kiss me.”

He chuckled but nonetheless pulled you into his and pressed his lips against your lips.

You felt his grip on you tighten as he moved his lips passionately against yours.

The show the two of you put on was long forgotten about now, the only thing that mattered was being wrapped up in Jack’s arms and giving him endless kisses.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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swiftieinbrazil · 4 months ago

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What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine!

Taylor Swift performing Bejeweled at The Eras Tour on June 2nd, 2024 in Lyon, France

#taylor swift #tswiftedit #the eras tour #taylor swift gifs #tstheerastour #tswiftgif #tswift gif #tswiftgifs #bejeweled #midnights #midnights era #midnights album #the eras tour taylor swift #lyontstheerastour

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 5 months ago

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Missing Moments in Canon/Canon Compliant Fics Masterlist (2)

Part 1 /

Created: June 6th, 2024

Last Checked: ---

grow together-Abagail_Snow (ao3) Summary: Canon-compliant drabbles posted over the years. Here is the Place Where I Love You-DandelionSunset (ao3) Summary: A story about growing up as the daughter of Katniss and Peeta, years after the war - the ups and downs, the ugly and the beautiful. Some things can only be fully appreciated with time, knowledge, and understanding. If We Met Up at Midnight-c_r_roberts (ao3) Summary: There aren’t many reasons to celebrate in District 12. Even as a Victor. But the arrival of the New Year is one of them. Canon, pre-Victory Tour. Intimate Bystander-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss said it was just for the cameras. Gale believed her until he discovered she screams for Peeta in the night. In the days before the Quarter Quell, Gale finds out there’s more to Katniss’s relationship with Peeta than she’s led him to believe. In-Panem, mostly Canon. Everlark Fic Exchange, Springtime Edition, Prompt 1 – Gale walks in on/eavesdrops/overhears Everlark being intimate. Later…-chele20035 (ao3) Summary: Happy New Year!!! I know, its late, but I wrote this little thing for "Winter in Panem". What happens when Peeta tries to help out hours before company is supposed to be there? Let Me Down Gently-Abagail_Snow (ao3) Summary: After learning that their romance was all a game, Peeta and Katniss struggle to keep the lie alive for the cameras. (Post-THG, Pre-CF) Let the Moment Seize You-Abagail_Snow (ao3) Summary: Peeta's adolescence told through a series of vignettes. Not One Moment-c_r_roberts (ao3) Summary: I wonder if he knows. Does he know how grateful I am to have him–the real him–back in my life? He tempers my temper. He makes me laugh, even when I don’t want to. He makes me feel safe, even when the entire world feels dangerous. And most importantly, he makes me feel good again. Alive, even. With Peeta, I want to keep living. Growing together. Canon-compliant. Remorse and Absolution-Alliswell (ao3) Summary: Peeta is struggling with the guilt of hurting Katniss while hijacked, so he tries to show her how much he regrets his actions, as tenderly as he can. Shine On You Crazy Diamond-Abagail_Snow (ao3) Summary: After assassinating Coin, Katniss finds she’s not the only prisoner being held to await trial. (Very slight canon divergence)

#canoncompliant #thg fanfiction #everlark fanfiction #thg #everlark #masterlist #missingmoments

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hide-in-imagination · 5 months ago

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Paris & a Promise | Simbar Oneshot

The studio was pristine and cozy, with bright colors on the walls, white leather chairs, one in front of the other, and a big screen between them on the far wall so that the people in the audience, and of course, the host and guest occupying the two chairs, could see pictures and videos of the topic that was being discussed.

Behind the three cameras pointing at the studio (one on the guest, one on the host, and one holding a general view of everything), the floor manager, a woman in her thirties with a headset to hear and communicate the director’s orders, made a signal to the host, a charismatic man on his forties with black hair, wearing a suit and tie. In the guest chair in front of him, the blonde young woman, wearing a tasteful long-sleeve blouse and a mini skirt, listened to the countdown overhead until the ‘On Air’ sign lighted up anew, followed by a short rendition of the show’s theme song, and applause from the audience on their seats.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! We are here live with Ámbar Smith,” the host resumed the show with a big smile, facing the camera and then focusing on his guest. “Ámbar, once again, thank you so much for coming to our show. I hope you’re having as good a time as we are, but if not, do not worry, your torment is almost over now.”

Ámbar laughed along with the audience.

“Noo, don’t say that, of course I’m having a good time, I’m always happy to be here.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Now,” the host leaned forward, “I’m sorry for deviating from your achievements but, we simply can not let you leave without talking about—” he pointed at her with his hand, “that huge rock weighing on your finger right now.” The audience started screaming. “Poor thing, she can’t even move her hand— Look how she keeps it on the armrest! Unbelievable!”

The audience whooped and laughed while Ámbar giggled, her right hand coming up to try and hide her grin and blushing cheeks.

“Ámbar, my sincerest congratulations on your engagement,” the host said now in earnest as the audience quieted down.

“Thank you so much.” The audience cheered again, stealing another giddy smile from her.

“Now, I know everyone already knows this, but in case anyone’s been living under a rock these last few years, you’ve been dating the Roller Band’s guitarist and vocalist Simón Álvarez for quite a few years now.” A picture of the couple posing together at a red carpet appeared on the big screen of the studio.

“Six years, yeah,” Ámbar said with a smile.

“Six whole years, and he finally proposed two weeks ago, as we can see in this picture you two posted on Instagram, showing off the ring.”

A screenshot of their Instagram post showed on the screen. The photo depicted their hands together, Ámbar’s hand over Simón’s turned-up palm, the thick diamond ring front and center, shining on her finger, while the background showed an orange and red sky, with the Eiffel Tower blurry but visible in the distance.

The audience cheered and a warm smile curled Ámbar’s lips at the photo.

The host looked at her again. “Tell me, Ámbar, did you see it coming? Did you know he was going to do it or did it take you by surprise?”

Ámbar made a complicated face. “Um, I kind of saw it coming, but no, not really,” she broke off with a laugh.

The host looked at her with intrigue. “What do you mean? Like, you did and then you didn’t? What’s the story?”

“Well. We were in Europe because the Roller Band was touring there, and they had stops in different cities, and Simón was like ‘You should come with me, you could visit Paris’ blah blah blah, so I joined them. He knows that Paris is my favorite city in the world, I’ve always loved it— In fact, I spent some months there when I was in university, as part of an exchange program for six months, and I just have very good memories of the city in general. So anyway, that got me thinking, you know… We’re going to be in Paris…” She started hinting. “He invited me to join… We’ve been dating for 6 years… So, on that front, I did have my suspicions, but I just— The timing didn’t make sense to me,” she said. “That was the problem, that’s what threw me off.”

“How so?”

“Because we were only staying in Paris for one day,” she emphasized. “The guys were scheduled to arrive in the morning at the hotel, then they had their soundcheck in the afternoon, and then their concert, and that same night we had to go to Italy because they had their concert there the next day. So I was like… Yeah, no. No way.” She laughed. “Like, it was a lot in less than 24 hours. How could he even find the time for it? It’s insane.”

“He totally got you then.”

“He did. It took me completely by surprise, it was so sweet.”

“It was like in some sort of balcony, right?” The host checked. “I mean, I remember from the photos you two posted— Those ones.”

New photos appeared on the screen. It was two selfies of the two of them standing close together on a black iron balcony with a view of the sunset, the city of Paris, and the Eiffel Tower. They were taken by Simón, one of his arms around Ámbar while the other extended beyond the frame, holding the phone. In one of them, they were both grinning brightly at the camera, Ámbar showing off the ring, her eyes glistening with emotion. The second was very similar to the first, probably taken seconds apart from each other, except in that one Simón wasn’t looking at the camera but kissing Ámbar’s cheek with his eyes closed. Ámbar was still grinning and showing off the ring like in the first picture, but she had her eyes closed in that one too, basking in the love.

“Yeah, that’s the balcony of the hotel room we were staying at,” Ámbar answered, pointing at the screen. “Simón specifically looked for one that had a view of the Eiffel Tower for us.”

“He had it all planned out,” the host said, impressed.

“Everything,” Ámbar confirmed. “From the very first second. Cause— Look. This is how it all went down.” She leaned forward in her seat, entering story-telling mode, and the host leaned forward as well, giving her all of his attention. “We arrived at around 11 am in Spain. The first thing we did was sleep because we were all dead on our feet, and then around two, Simón asked me if I wanted to go out to eat, and I was like ‘Yeah, sure’, so we went to this restaurant I recommended to him, I knew it from my many trips to Paris, and we just, you know, had our meal, talked, walked around the city for a little bit after— Very normal stuff. Then, Simón had to go to his soundcheck, so he left, and I just kept walking around ‘cause, you know, I was like ‘I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back, better make the best of it now.’”

“Of course.”

“And that was all I was planning to do for the rest of the day really, but then, like an hour or so later, I get a call from Simón like ‘Hey, I’m done with the soundcheck, I’m going back to the hotel now, let’s meet up there’, and I was like… Why didn’t he just stay in the arena?” She said, bemused. “His concert was like in two hours, it would’ve made more sense. But anyway. I got back to the hotel, and I asked him how the soundcheck went, and he was like ‘Well, very well, everything good’— Which was a complete and total lie, by the way,” she pointed out, looking at the audience.

“What do you mean ‘lie’?” The host asked with surprise.

“He never went to the soundcheck,” Ámbar said. “I only found out about it later. The guys went to the soundcheck by themselves, Simón never joined them.”

“Then what was he doing?”

“I’m getting there,” she said. “So, we met at the hotel, and Simón was like ‘Hey, so, I only have like an hour and a half before I need to leave but, what do say if we order room service and eat a little something before I leave?’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, that sounds nice.’ So we sat at a little table there on the balcony, and we were just, you know, having like a regular dinner, when suddenly he says: ‘My love. I didn’t want to tell you before, but I have a surprise for you.’ And I was like.” Ámbar made a face of curiosity. “‘What?’ And the very instant— I have this so ingrained in my mind— the very instant the sun started setting, he got down on one knee.”

“Oh my god.” The audience cheered and clapped, joining the host’s excitement. “That’s crazy! So, he had it all timed down to the second.”

“He did! He totally did. I couldn’t believe it. And then he, you know, started saying all these beautifulthings, and once the shock wore off, I just started crying,” she laughed a little bit. “And just, you know, I said yes, obviously.”

The audience screamed. Ámbar laughed, radiantly happy, the camera capturing the emotion in her eyes. “Then we hugged and it was very sweet. I really couldn’t have imagined it a better way; it was perfect.”

“And then you two went to celebrate, right? We’ve got some pictures of you on a rooftop.”

“Yeah! That was the craziest part! We had just gotten engaged and Simón was like ‘I’ve got another surprise for you’ and he led me to the hotel’s rooftop, and the whole time I’m thinking, ‘What now?!’ Like, what else had this guy planned? Fireworks? I genuinely couldn’t put it past him by this point. And then we got to the rooftop, and my whole family was there.” The audience went aww. “With our closest friends too; it was like fifteen people up there. And I was like— ‘What are you all doing here?!’” The audience laughed. “‘When did you get here?!’ It was insane!”

“Simón got them all there without you knowing?” The host expressed with awe.

“No one told me anything! I genuinely don’t know how they managed to keep it from me,” Ámbar said with disbelief. “And the rooftop was decorated with balloons, flowers, there was food— Well, you’ve got the photos there.” She pointed to the screen where the pictures from her Instagram were displaying. “So, like, it was amazing. It was truly amazing, and so beautiful. And our friends started hugging us and giving us their congratulations, and… What got to me the most was that, well, my mom couldn’t go,” she started explaining. “I don’t speak about her a lot publicly but, basically, she’s got a certain degree of blindness, so it’s complicated for her to move around on her own, she has to be accompanied— And honestly, good for her that she didn’t go, I would’ve felt terrible if she had made that huge trip just for me. But she did send me a video congratulating me. I watched it on a tablet. And I just… Well, if I had already cried, that was the moment I finished ruining my makeup.” The audience laughed with her. “But it was sweet. It was all very sweet and moving and just amazing. I had a very good time there with my friends and family until we had to leave.”

“Sounds wonderful.” The host had a sweet smile on his face. “I bet it was a very treasured moment for you two, for your family, your friends—I have a question though,” he said, more serious now, “that I imagine all of us are wondering as well— What about the concert?”

Ámbar nodded like she knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah, you see, that’s the funniest part! Cause like— Just imagine: Simón organized this whole thing— When he was supposed to be at the soundcheck, by the way; he never did that, he was on the rooftop with everyone else getting everything ready— and in the end, he just like, stayed for half an hour and then he left.” The audience laughed. “Because he had his concert! You know?” She said over the noise. “So like. It was crazy. It was really crazy, he totally rushed to the arena. He must’ve put on his outfit and the microphone in record time, the poor thing. But he always tells me that it was worth it. So.” Ámbar shrugged with a little smile.

The audience went aww again.

A mischievous glint appeared in the host’s eyes. “Yeah, he looked very excited the night of the concert. There was even this video that went viral— You saw it, right?”

“I’ve seen many,” she deadpanned, nodding her head.

“Well, here we’ve got the one that made the most headlines on the internet; a little video posted by a fan.” A video of Simón taking the stage started playing on the studio’s big screen on mute. It was a vertical video, filmed from up close, maybe from the fifth row, or maybe using a lot of zoom. “This is the same night you were telling us about, when the Roller Band was playing at the arena.”

The volume went up and the screams of the crowd could be heard as Simón walked up to the front of the stage where a microphone stand was waiting. He had his guitar hanging from his shoulder, ready to play. For everyone watching at home, the video took the whole screen of the TV, replacing the image of the studio.

“Paris, how are you doing tonight?!”

The crowd went wild in response to Simón.

Simón laughed a little and started talking again, so the crowd went quiet to be able to hear him. “You know, I’m the exact same way as you, guys, like, exactly. Because this next song,” he started leisurely playing the guitar as he talked, not a melody but just a simple, soft up and down of his hand on the strings, “is one I wrote about a very special someone to me, many years ago now. And since then, I’ve had the fortune, the pleasure, the utter privilege of having this gorgeous, amazing woman by my side. And this night is very special, Paris, because… This very, very night…” He started laughing and had to take a step back, unable to contain his joy. The crowd was screaming. Simón walked up to the microphone again and yelled out ecstatically.

“SHE SAID ‘YES’!!!!”

Simón began strumming the guitar as the rest of the band joined in, playing together the intro of ‘Tiempo de Amor.’

The studio came back on screen and the video continued rolling in a lower volume as Simón started singing the song, eventually going mute, and then pausing altogether. The audience in the studio was screaming excitedly.

“You do realize that because of this 15 thousand people knew about it before many of our relatives and acquaintances, right?” Ámbar told the host, making everyone laugh again.

“I can just picture them seeing this on Twitter or Tiktok and calling you up like ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?’” The host acted out.

“It happened with more than one person,” Ámbar declared. The audience laughed.

“Alright but, putting all of that aside, the important thing is that you two had this magical moment and now you’re going to take this next step together,” the host moved the narrative along. “Tell me, have you set a date yet for the ceremony?”

“We don’t have an exact date yet, but the idea is to have a Spring wedding next year.”

“Love that. So, that means you’ve got plenty of time to plan for the event then. I imagine you’ll need it. Are you planning for a big party?”

“We’ll see,” Ámbar replied. “We’re still deciding whether we wanna do this biiig, over the top wedding or just a small ceremony with our closest friends and family. But, whatever we end up choosing, I think the most important thing is just, our promise to always be together. So,” a serene smile graced her lips, “the rest is just a complement to that and we’ll figure it out as we go.”

“That’s beautiful,” the host said. “Seriously, I’m so happy for you two, congratulations— Give it up for Ámbar Smith, ladies and gentlemen!”

The audience went wild.

“Thank you so much for being here with us today, Ámbar,” the host told her, starting to wrap up.

“Thank you for having me, it was lovely,” she replied with a smile.

The host turned to face the camera and the shot focused on him. “And to everyone watching us at home, you’ll want to stick around because our next guest is an artist who’s been trending all over social media, not only in Spain but in all parts of the world. We’ll be right back!”

…

. * ⋆ . · 　.╰──────༺♡༻──────╯. * * . 　 *

Okay so, originally, I had this idea in the context of my Actress!Ámbar x Musician!Simón AU. It was going to be, like, a second chapter where I mixed different interviews, some of Simón, some of Ámbar, as a way to tell how their relationship developed after the ending of chapter one. But then I thought—Why limit it to just that one context? I really loved the idea I came up with for this proposal, so I wanted it to fit as many different worlds as possible, especially canon for those who aren’t such big fans of AUs, so— Here it is! I really hope you liked it. It’s very different from everything I’ve written before in terms of format, but that’s precisely why it was so much fun to write. What would you even call this type of POV? Second Person or something? Sdfkjn. I don’t know, I don’t remember much of my high school lessons; it’s been too many years.

And speaking of years. It's been 6 years now since the show ended and this proposal took place 6 years into their relationship, so I think it would be sweet to imagine that Simón and Ámbar are engaged right now as we speak and that they’ll be getting married next year in 2025 <3

Our babies have grown up, and so have we.

See you all next time. – C

#simbar #simbar fic #simbar fanfic #soy luna fanfiction #soy luna #My Writing #short writings #Gif divider by anitalenia!

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evermoredeluxe · 6 months ago

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What’s a girl gonna do? A diamond’s gotta shine

- The Eras Tour in Paris (N4) on May 12, 2024 (x)

#eras tour paris 4 #eras tour #taylor swift

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hummingbee-o0o · 2 months ago

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Diamonds are a boy's best friend

(In which Daniel and Armand break into a billionaire's mansion, eat him, set some art on fire, and proceed to Have A Good Time TM)

Daniel gets word of a painting featuring Armand squirrelled away in some Swiss billionaire’s mansion, and Armand has been in the mood for mountains lately, so they go.

It’s a thing Daniel does now, in between their travels around the world: tracking down Armand pieces and liberating them, giving Armand back the agency over who sees his body, looks at his past. Armand gets to decide what happens to each piece; some he allows to remain, others he destroys. Weirdly, it’s probably even more cathartic for Daniel than Armand himself. Call it overcompensating for not being able to go back in time and play knight in shining armour or whatever other bullshit Daniel’s egotistical subconscious probably fancies.

So Switzerland it is.

They start with a couple weeks to take in the sights — won’t be wise to hang around in the country after they eat a resident billionaire.

It’s winter, so the nights are long. They walk around picturesque little towns full of twinkling lights nestled in mountain valleys; Armand gives Daniel an art tour of Zurich; Daniel drags Armand hiking (they negotiate and settle on two trips instead of five, and joke’s on Armand, because Daniel fully went into this with the intention of only doing two); they spend a night hanging around a ski resort, sipping on tourists with grappa and Toblerone chocolate sloshing about in their veins.

Daniel also makes Armand pose for a thousand selfies and other pictures. He doesn’t have social media any more, because he’s pretending to be dead of old age, but he sends one or two to Louis and Lestat.

Finally, the day comes, and they rent a car to drive up to the billionaire’s Alpine mansion — Armand behind the wheel, Daniel browsing the file he’s compiled on their mark.

“This guy’s the total package, babe,” Daniel says, flipping through the pages.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, right up our alley. Grandad ran a Swiss bank during World War Two, the whole neutrality thing, you know…”

Armand hums, and Daniel decides to assume he does know. Armand’s knowledge of recent-ish historical events is an insane ping-pong match between knowing everything and knowing nothing — couple years ago, he asked Daniel, with a completely straight face, who was this Archduke Ferdinand Daniel was speaking about.

“Yeah, so we’ve got blood money already. Daddy inherited the bank… business ties to mystery people in Argentina, because of-fucking-course…”

“Put your seatbelt on, beloved.”

“I’m already dead and there’s no cops on this road. Anyway, then our guy inherits his share of the bank, proceeds to invest in real estate and art as a tax dodge—”

“Seatbelt, Daniel. You may already be dead, but if you fly through the windscreen on impact, you will most certainly not have a good time.”

“Oh, my god, fine. There. See? Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

Read the full thing on AO3

#IwtV #armandaniel #IwtV fic #armandaniel fic #o0o writes

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myfriendofmiseryyy · 14 days ago

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Wish you were here

A tribute to Cliff burton ⚒️🎵

Chapter one,shine on you crazy diamond

February 10th 1985,cliffs birthday.

Waking up bright and early,I sneak out of bed to do the last preparations for cliffs birthday,we’ve been together for around a year and we moved in together around a month ago,it’s been nothing but bliss.

I begin to hum a tune “so,so you think you can tell,heaven from hell,blue skies from pain” wish you here by pink Floyd,although the nature of the song,its always reminded me of Cliff,one of our favourite things to do is play it on guitar together. And when he’s on tour,I often find myself singing it softly to him over the phone,while he plays it on guitar.

I’ve brought him the vinyl for his birthday,although he already has it,it’s scratched from years of playing.

I make him breakfast,his favourite,pancakes with extra syrup,as I feel him wrap his big arms around my back. “Where you go” he mumbles into my ear in that groggy morning voice that sends chills down my spine in the best way.

“Making you breakfast in bed,but since you’re already up” i chuckle kissing his bare shoulderblade

“Mhm thankyou sweets” Cliff mumbles sitting down and patting the seat next to him motioning me to sit next to him.

“Damn you went all out huh?” Cliff chuckles as he sees the presents on the table

“Just a little something for my favourite boy” I kiss his forehead sitting down.

“Just you is enough babe,you know that” Cliff kisses me deeply,tasting like the pancakes he’s just eaten. “Can’t get enough of you” he whispers softly

“Open your presents first mr” i chuckle

“Okay bossy boots,but just so you know,im most definitely saving the best present till last…and that is being between your legs for at least 2 hours” he winks

“Clifford!” I laugh and smack his shoulder playfully

“Ow” he playfully pouts,”you’re gonna have to kiss it better now”

I kiss his shoulder and bite it playfully “there! Big baby” I laugh

“All better” Cliff smirks and kisses my lips playfully.

“Which one first?” Cliff says looking at the presents

“It’s your birthday babe,your choice!” I chuckle

“Okay okay” Cliff takes a present from the pile,choosing the gift closet to him. He unwraps the paper carefully “omg no way!”

“Figured you haven’t got the latest release yet” I giggle

“I haven’t actually,this is awesome,thankyou sweetheart,you know me too well”. He says flipping through the pages of the first of many horror magazines I got him.

“This will take up all my time on tour” he chuckles kissing me softly on my cheek.

“Can I open another one” he asks

“You’re not a child Cliff,of course you can” I laugh

Cliff opens another present “a new Walkman! Thankyou baby!” Cliff hugs me from the side “I’ve wanted one for ages” he mumbles into my neck “I know” i chuckle and kiss his hairline “I love you so much” he says into my ear. “Love you too sweetheart”

Cliff proceeds to open another present, he gasps when he opens the small box,it’s a necklace,with a silver pendant in the shape of his signature bass guitar,engraved on the back is the words “we’re just to lost souls,swimming in a fish bowl,year after year” Cliff looks over at me with tears in his eyes

“This is the most beautiful present I’ve ever received baby girl,seriously”

“You deserve everything and more” I cuddle Cliff as he wipes a few tears from both our eyes “you’re my girl. Forever and always” Cliff whispers and kisses me deeply.

“Forever” I whisper back

“Got you something else too” I say softly

“Oh baby you are really spoiling me” Cliff chuckles as stand up to find the vinyl I got him

“Here,I know it’s only small but yours doesn’t even play anymore because of how scratched it is” I chuckle

“No way! Thankyou babe,I’ll put it on right now! Cliff pads across the living room to put the vinyl on.

As the first notes to “shine on you crazy diamond” comes through the speakers Cliff takes me in his arms “I love you more than anything,you are my entire existence baby,I love you more than the band,music…my bass,everything” he whispers in my ear as we slowly sway to the sound of pink Floyd echoing through the house.

“Imma fucking marry you some day” he whispers “ just you wait”

After a while of holding each other,we sit down on the couch again,”wanna play our song? Birthday treat” Cliff grins

“Birthday treat.” I agree as Cliff gets our guitars out.

“You better sing too,it’s my birthday in the end” Cliff winks playfully

“Considering it’s your birthday,I guess I could sing it…” I chuckle as I play the opening riff

“You’re so beautiful” Cliff whispers as he waits for the lead part to kick in.

I take a deep breath and play the opening chords,it almost being second nature to me at this point,after two run throughs Cliff joins in too.

“So,so you think you can tell

Heaven from hell,blue skies from pain?…

Can you tell a green field,from a cold steel rail…

A smile from a veil?do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade,your heroes for ghosts

Hot ashes for trees,hot air for a cool breeze.

Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange

A walk-on part in the war,for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish,how I wish you were here,

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,year after year.

Running over the same old ground,and how we found the old fears,wish you were here…

We finish the song with tears in our eyes,looking at each other with ever lasting love,and compassion for each other,”we always compliment each other so well” Cliff says emotionally,”I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend my life with” he puts his guitar down and the same time as me and we meet in a passion but love filled kiss,his arms wrapping around me as he takes me to bed,the love and desire he has for me so raw and clear to see.

I couldn’t imagine a life without him,and I don’t want ever lose what we have. And yeah,I’m making sure I become his wife some day.

If you made it this far,thankyou🥲 this my first long fic in a longggg time,and I’m making a part two (will be very very sad) I just love Cliff and pink Floyd so much,so I decided to combine the two,came up with this listening to wish you were here and I shed a few tears writing it,hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

#cliff burton #Cliff burton fic #cliff burton fluff #metallica #metallica x reader #self indulgent #part 2?#definitely cried

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