#the dance is so intense (and allowed to be intense) because they fall for each other by recognizing the good in each other

[deesseshesca]

PAC : First time feeling *that* chemistry with him. (Dual POV)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~2 )

My soul craves some slow love song...

PILE 1

Is actually not going to be the first time you feel this chemistry.

You always felt it but always find a away to resist. Fighting the connection on both side.

His mom died. Maybe one of he challenges you will be facing together before you both commit to surrender to this love after months of playing cat and mouse is the death of his mother.

Both of you have a fear of being vulnerable which dramatically slowed this relationship.

Her POV The air was thick with the scent of roses, heady and intoxicating, blooming wildly around the edges of the garden. Evening had settled, painting the sky in dusky shades of lavender and gold, and the world felt quieter here softer. I stood by the fountain, my fingertips brushing the cool marble edge as I stared at the rippling water. Reflections danced on the surface, fractured and shifting, much like the emotions stirring inside me.

<<I didn’t expect to feel this.>>

Not after everything. Not after the walls I built so carefully, protecting the parts of me that once gave too much and received too little. I had walked away from him before more than once not because I didn’t care, but because I needed to know who I was without him. I needed to find the version of myself that wouldn’t settle for half-hearted promises and restless nights filled with questions.

But I wasn’t that woman anymore.

<<I see it now — he’s different.>>

His edges have softened, the fire that once burned too hot, tempered now with something richer, something steadier. His ego no longer fills the space between us, and I know deep in my bones that he’s ready. His family knows it too. I see it in their eyes when they look at me. Acceptance. Warmth. They see me as his future, even before I’ve fully allowed myself to step into that role.

But the truth was I had been fighting this. Fighting us.

<<And I’m so tired of running.>>

The moon hung low in the sky, her quiet light washing over the garden, whispering secrets only I could hear. I wasn’t afraid anymore. The unknown didn’t scare me the way it once had. Because this time, I wasn’t standing on shaky ground. I was standing on the edge of something solid.

And when I turned to look at him, standing a few feet away, watching me with that quiet intensity I had come to know so well…

<<I knew it was time to stop fighting.>>

His Mother’s POV The evening air carried the faintest breeze, enough to rustle the leaves but not disturb the peace that had settled over the garden. I stood near the patio, half-listening to the murmured conversations behind me, but my eyes were fixed on them.

My son. And her.

<<I’ve seen this look before.>>

Not on him. Never on him. But I’ve seen it in the eyes of men who have found something rare something worth holding onto.

He’s watching her like he’s afraid to blink, like she might disappear if he does. But it’s not desperation in his eyes. It’s reverence.

<<My boy learned the hard way.>>

I remember how stubborn he used to be so caught up in his pride, in proving himself. He didn’t know how to bend, and love requires a man who can bend without breaking. But something changed. I see it in the way his shoulders aren’t as rigid, in how he stands beside her, not in front of her.

He’s quiet now. Not because he’s holding back, but because he’s listening.

And her?

<<She’s not running anymore.>>

I’ve watched her for a long time, watched the way her guard would rise and fall depending on his mood. But tonight? I don’t see the woman who once held herself apart, protecting what was left of her heart. I see a woman who’s ready. Her eyes don’t hold doubt anymore. There’s only knowing.

She’s fought this love. I could feel it every time she stepped back, every time she hesitated, weighing her heart against her fears. But now…

<<She’s choosing him.>>

And he knows it.

The way they move unconsciously mirroring each other, as if their souls had already learned the steps to a dance they hadn’t even realized they were performing it’s breathtaking.

He’s ready to give her everything. And for once, he’s not afraid to show it.

<<This is love.>>

Not the easy kind. The kind forged through fire and time. The kind that bends but never breaks.

And as I watched them standing in the glow of a fading sun, their future stretched out before them I knew.

<<They’ve found their way.>>

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PILE 2

Her POV The air smelled of jasmine and warm spice, the kind that lingers long after the sun dips beneath the horizon. The soft hum of conversation filled the courtyard, where fairy lights twisted through ivy-covered trellises, casting a golden glow on the polished stone beneath my heels. I felt the heat of the summer night cling to my skin, a sensual reminder that life was ripe and full of promise.

I stood with ease, spine straight, head high but not from pride. I was light in a way that only comes after shedding burdens I once thought were stitched into my bones. I was whole now, and love no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like home waiting to be built. And as my eyes landed on him, across the crowded space, something shifted.

<<I see him before he notices me a presence that pulses against the noise, commanding without trying.>> He looked unsure, though. A flicker of tension in the line of his jaw, a restless energy in the way his fingers grazed the edge of his glass. I could feel it that uncertainty, that hesitation and it only made me more aware of how steady I had become.

When his eyes finally found mine, I didn’t look away. I let him see. All of it. The woman who had rebuilt herself. The woman who no longer needed to be saved but was ready to be chosen. His gaze sharpened, and I felt the heat coil low in my belly.

<<I know he feels it too.>> The spark. The unspoken question hanging between us, thick and sweet as the summer air. I took a step forward, feeling a quiet power hum through me.

I was ready.

His POV The night was too still. Too perfect. The kind of night where everything feels suspended in time where decisions can’t be undone once made. The courtyard was a masterpiece of intimacy, tucked away from the noise of the city. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, throwing patterns across the stone floor, but my focus was caught elsewhere.

<<I see her.>> And the world narrows.

She moved like certainty, her presence cutting through the crowd like silk through air. I had been restless all night, the weight of everything I carried pressing against my ribs, but when her gaze caught mine I forgot how to breathe.

She was unreadable, and that terrified me. I could feel the space she had carved for herself, the freedom she had fought for. I had laid everything out, no walls, no illusions. Just me. Wanting her.

<<I know she has choices.>> I had seen it in her eyes, the quiet acknowledgment that she wasn’t bound by anyone’s expectations. She could walk away and not look back. But damn, I didn’t want her to.

My heart pounded, each beat a plea I couldn’t voice. The fear gnawed at me, but beneath it was something else. Something stronger.

<<I would give her everything.>> And I wasn’t sure if that would be enough.

But as she stepped toward me, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. She wasn’t walking away. She was walking toward me. And in that moment, I knew...

I was ready to risk it all.

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PILE 3

Her POV The night was alive, pulsing with an undercurrent of something electric. Music drifted through the crowded rooftop bar, a low bass that thrummed beneath my skin. City lights stretched out around us, glittering like promises that never quite delivered. But I wasn’t thinking about promises.

<<I was thinking about him.>>

He stood across the room, effortlessly charming as always, his laughter spilling into the air like a melody I couldn’t escape. My pulse quickened not with nerves, but with something far more dangerous. Obsession.

<<And I wasn’t even trying to hide it.>>

My eyes found him without meaning to, drawn like a magnet, and I knew he felt it. Felt me. Even when he wasn’t looking, he knew. It was in the way his body angled slightly toward mine, like gravity itself was conspiring to pull us together. But beneath all that wanting, there was a quiet war raging in me.

I didn’t trust this feeling.

<<I’ve played this game before.>>

The spark. The pull. The endless chase that left me burned when I finally caught what I thought I wanted. He was different, though. Too different. And that scared me more than anything. Because if I let myself believe he was the one, I’d be giving him a power I swore I’d never hand over again.

But damn…

<<He makes it so easy to forget my own rules.>>

Every glance, every touch, every low murmur of my name lured me deeper into this mess I swore I wouldn’t make. And yet here I was. Caught in the web. The worst part?

<<I didn’t even want to escape.>>

His POV The night stretched out like a canvas, painted with the warm glow of city lights and the buzz of possibility. Laughter echoed around us, but my world had narrowed to one point of focus.

Her.

<<I could feel her eyes on me.>>

Even when she thought she was subtle, her gaze was a weight I carried like a secret. And I liked it. No I loved it. There was no hiding how she felt. The way her lips parted slightly when she looked at me. The way her body leaned in, even when her mind tried to pull her back.

<<She was obsessed, and I knew it.>>

But she was fighting it. Fighting me. And I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t some polished dream I was chaos wrapped in charm, adventure wrapped in uncertainty. And she… she liked control.

But love? Love didn’t play by her rules.

<<I wasn’t here to play it safe.>>

I wasn’t looking for guarantees or carefully laid plans. I wanted the ride the messy, unpredictable, breathtaking ride that came with loving a woman who didn’t know how to surrender. And damn, was she worth the risk.

Her fear didn’t scare me. If anything, it made me want her more. She was standing at the edge, and I could feel her heart pounding just as loudly as mine. She was so close to giving in, to letting go of all the walls she’d built around herself.

<<And I wasn’t going to push her.>>

No. I was going to let her come to me.

Because I knew, deep down, she couldn’t resist this.

<<Not me.>>

I wasn’t a destination. I was the journey. And I could feel her soul even if her mind was fighting it ready to take that leap.

So, I stood there, steady and sure, letting her chase her own thoughts, knowing they’d always lead back to me.

<<This wasn’t about winning.>>

It was about us. About feeling every twist and turn, every high and low. I wasn’t offering her a perfect ending. I was offering her a story worth living.

And when her eyes met mine again wide, hungry, and just a little afraid I knew.

<<She was already falling.>>

And I was ready to catch her.

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[azzibuckets]

drunken confessions [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: azzi’s appearance in this is heavily inspired by her sexy ass damelio fit .. also i feel like this is very similar to my wisdom teeth blurb lol…anyways my mind is so fucked rn like i’m about to fall asleep and the ending makes no sense wyf

summary: azzi drinks just a bit too much and confesses things to paige that neither of them are ready to hear yet

word count: 1.7k

part 2 | masterlist

Paige knew she had no right to be jealous over Azzi. Azzi was her best friend, had been her best friend since they were little twerps in high school. They’d both dated other guys and girls, had changed in front of each other, did all the typical shit that normal best friends did. But this fiery pit at the bottom of her stomach, stoked from seeing Azzi grind on a random stranger that had bought her a drink earlier that night, had started to become an achingly familiar feeling over the last few months.

As soon as the sickeningly bright orange sex on the beach had landed in front of Azzi, the bartender nodding his head at the pretty blonde unashamedly staring from across the bar, Paige had retreated into her shell, brooding in the corner of the room and rejecting all her teammates’ invitations to sing karaoke or play pool, things she normally did with glee. And when she saw the blonde approach Azzi, brushing her hand against her best friend’s shoulder and guiding her to the dance floor where she held her hips as they danced, the pit in her stomach had become a furious tornado.

Paige swished the last few drops of beer in her glass around, trying to look at anything but her best friend. But she made the mistake of looking up for one more glance, and locked eyes with Azzi, who smirked as if she knew, and started making her way over.

“Babe,” Azzi slurred. As she got closer, Paige saw the glazed over look in her eyes, the sway in her step, and the red flush in her cheeks, undoubtedly due to the copious amounts of tequila that she’d downed that night. “Babe,” Azzi repeated when she got closer. “What’s got you all grouchy over here?”

Paige looked away, unable to control the fury expanding in her chest from seeing Azzi casually getting so intimidate with another woman. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Why don’t you go back to your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend?” Azzi reached for Paige, who brought a hand up to steady her. But before she knew it, Azzi was leaning even closer, overwhelming the blonde with the scent of her vanilla perfume combined with the sour odor of alcohol. Azzi hooked her leg around Paige’s and oh. She was now fully sitting on her lap, her hips straddling Paige’s, looking down at her with an intensity that Paige didn’t recognize.

“Az,” Paige said lowly. “What are you doing?” She didn’t make a move to change their positions though, instead placing her hands on Azzi’s waist.

In the recent months, their dynamic had shifted, and both of them knew it. They’d gradually allowed themselves to touch each other in ways that were dangerously far from platonic, but they’d had a silent agreement, a tension binding them together to not show this intimacy to anyone else, to not let anyone else see it because this, whatever this was, was only for themselves.

But now Azzi was breaking this silent pact, was all over Paige’s lap in front of throngs of college students, looking at Paige in a way that electrified her entire body.

“What?” Azzi challenged. She rolled her hips for a moment, allowing herself to grind down on the blonde. “You want me to leave?”

“Fuck,” Paige hissed, looking up at her with half lidded eyes. Azzi had never looked sexier, her hair in long braids falling down her back, a light sheen of sweat covering her neck, her lips plump and pouting. “Don’t you dare fucking leave. I’m jus’ saying, we shouldn’t be doing this right now.” Paige might’ve had a beer, but she was still acutely aware of the looks they were gathering from their teammates, who could sense the sexually charged air between them as Azzi grinded down again on Paige’s lap, eliciting a soft moan from the blonde.

“You don’t want me?” Azzi’s voice was hard. Her hands found her way to the ends of Paige’s shirt, grabbing and scrunching the cotton as she brought her face closer to Paige’s, breathing heavily.

Paige groaned as she let her hands travel over her best friend’s body. Azzi was wearing a crop top that barely covered her boobs, showing the sharp lines of her abdomen. Paige traced her fingers down Azzi’s stomach, relishing the way Azzi’s muscles flexed and hardened under her touch. The blonde bit her lip as she caught sight of the younger girl’s shiny belly piercing. She sent a quick prayer of thanks to the gods for whoever invented such a sexy piece of jewelry. “Azzi, you’re making this so hard for me right now,” she breathed.

Azzi stiffened, her expression now cold and distant. “Fine,” she said calmly. “I’ll just go back and dance with some other girl.” She got up to move, but Paige’s hands gripped her waist even tighter and firmly pulled her down, until every inch of their bodies was connected, their hips fitted together like perfect puzzle pieces.

“No,” Paige said roughly. “You’re going home now. With me.”

Azzi squirmed, trying to get out of Paige’s grasp. “You can’t control me,” she said threateningly. “I’m having a good time. Stop being such a party pooper.”

“I’m cutting you off,” Paige said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re wasted as shit and you’re gonna feel like hell during practice tomorrow. You should be thanking me.” She stood up, lifting Azzi off her lap.

Azzi, clearly annoyed, moved to turn around and return to the dance floor, but Paige grabbed her wrist. “Azzi Fudd,” she gritted through her teeth. “Stop making a scene.”

“Paige,” the younger girl whined, stomping her foot like a little child. When Paige fixed her with an icy glare, Azzi finally relented, allowing herself to be pulled through the crowd until they exited the stuffy bar, the frigid Connecticut air hitting their faces.

Paige led Azzi to the car. She helped her into the passenger seat, reaching over her to buckle her seatbelt. As the lap belt clicked into the buckle, Azzi leaned in, putting her mouth against her ear. “I love it when you do that.”

Paige shivered at the feeling of Azzi’s breath tickling her cheek, her lips gently brushing her earlobe. “Do what?”

“Take care of me.” Azzi bit her lip sensually, so drunk she was unaware of the effects she was having on the older girl. “No one does it like you.”

“I’d hope so,” Paige chuckled dryly. “I’m your best friend.”

Azzi’s eyes glinted, her smile sharp. “We both know we aren’t just that.”

Paige recoiled, her mouth slightly dropped at Azzi’s acknowledgement of the tension between the two of them. They’d been dancing around each other for so long, both of them refusing to explicitly mention the fact their dynamic hadn’t been the same for a while. It was almost comforting, this middle ground where neither of them was obligated to make a move and they could just go with the flow. But with just a few words, Azzi had let all of the pretenses come crashing down. “Let’s just go home,” Paige said finally, shutting the passenger door resolutely.

Azzi leaned her head against the window, hoping to absorb some of the coolness of the glass and relieve her pounding headache. She looked at Paige, who was staring straight ahead as she drove, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were turning white.

“You’re really fucking great.”

Paige’s expression remained stony, but the muscle in her jaw flickered. “Mhm.”

“And you’re so gorgeous. And I know you know that, cos all the girls online are all over you. But none of them can see how beautiful you really are. None of them know you like I do.” Azzi paused. “I think about you all the time, and whenever I do I get this warm fucking feeling in my chest that won’t go away no matter how hard I try and-,”

“Stop.” Paige hit the brake pedal a little bit too hard, and the car jolted. “Stop it, Azzi. We’re not gonna talk about your feelings until you’re sober, alright?”

“No, I need you to know. I’ve been keeping this to myself for so long and it hurts so fucking bad not being able to kiss you.” They were at the apartments now, and Paige aggressively put the car in park before rubbing her face with her hands.

“You should stop talking before you wake up tomorrow and regret everything you say,” Paige warned, helping her best friend out of the car and into their home.

Azzi swiveled, pushing Paige against the wall. “I won’t,” she said defiantly. “I won’t regret it.”

Paige looked at her with such soft eyes, and Azzi bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, trying to keep the tears from leaking out. Paige brought her thumb up, softly stroking it against Azzi’s cheek. “You’re too special,” Paige said breathily. “You’re too special to me for us to have this conversation while you’re wasted like this.”

Azzi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can I at least kiss you?”

The blonde laughed at that, gently pushing Azzi away to create more space between them. “Not like this.”

Azzi pouted then, and Paige had to put her hand over her mouth to physically stop from laughing, an action she knew would upset Azzi even more. “How ‘bout tomorrow?” the dark haired girl suggested, a dopey smile on her face. “We can kiss then? I’ll be sober, I swear.”

Paige’s smile faltered, and she crossed her arms, as if to restrain herself from reaching out to Azzi again. “I don’t know if you’ll wanna do that, Az,” Paige said, her voice gentle.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Azzi’s hands were on her hips, a questioning look on her face.

“Because we both know you’re not ready to address whatever the fuck we are.” Paige looked away. “If you were ready, you wouldn’t be telling me all this while you were wasted. You’d have the guts to be mature and tell me sober.”

“That’s not fair.” Azzi sounded choked. “This isn’t easy, Paige. We’ve been friends for so long. How am I supposed to be okay with the fact that we can never go back to what we were before?”

“That’s why when we wake up in the morning, I know you’re gonna ignore me and pretend like this never happened.” Paige brushed hair out of Azzi’s eyes, letting her fingertips linger as they touched her temple. “I know you, Azzi. You run away from your problems. This won’t be any different.”

Azzi’s arms fell to her side. “Maybe if you stopped making assumptions then this wouldn’t be so difficult.”

A tired smile formed on Paige’s lips. “It’s late, Azzi. We’re both exhausted and grumpy. Can we just go to sleep and figure it out in the morning?”

Azzi opened her mouth to argue, but realized that the older girl wouldn’t budge. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Whatever.” She stormed off into her room, making sure to slam the door loudly behind her. She knew she was being immature, but she hated how stubbornly cynical Paige was being, acting as if there was no chance that they could work out.

Azzi laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling until she was in that half asleep state, mind hazy with the beginnings of dreams but still slightly conscious. She almost thought it was a dream when Paige slipped into her room, standing over her with a pensive expression on her face. She thought it was a dream when Paige bent down, planting a kiss to her forehead and stroking her braids. “P?” She murmured, rolling to her side.

“Whatever happens between us, just know that I love you.”

“Nothing bad will happen.” Azzi yawned, still unsure of whether she was asleep or not. She buried her face in Paige’s shirt, and Paige wordlessly climbed into her bed, joining her under the cover and wrapping herself around the younger girl, resting her chin onto her head.

[cece693]

You Call That Love? (Damon Salvatore x Male Reader)

Because I don't see many Damon Salvatore x male reader posts, I decided to write one myself. You can't convince me that Damon hasn't had male lovers before.

Summary: Elena tries to get with Damon but soon realizes he has moved on—with m/n of all people.

Their lips moved in a frenzied dance, hands tearing at each other's clothes in a passionate embrace when the gasp of a familiar, bothersome human interrupted their intense makeout session. Looking up at Elena with an annoyed expression, m/n rolled his eyes before sitting upright, allowing Damon to hastily put his shirt back on.

"Why?" she whispered pathetically, her brown eyes tearing up while looking at Damon as if he had just killed her parents. "I thought we had something—"

Unable to contain his laughter, m/n released a hearty chuckle. "Why, Miss Elena?" he mocked "I distinctly remember you bragging about your relationship with Stefan not even a week ago. What happened? Trouble in paradise?" Feeling Damon's arms wrap around his middle, m/n cuddled against Damon's front, allowing the vampire to take what he needed.

M/n wasn't naive to the fact that Damon still harbored some feelings for Elena, although the nature of said feelings had changed. So, just for him, m/n would step back and allow things to run their course.

"You don't know anything," Elena hissed, her eyes narrowing at m/n with utter hatred. Ever since he stepped foot into Mystic Falls, her life changed for the worse: Bonnie and Caroline finally stood their ground and told Elena they didn't want to be involved in her problems.

Recently, Stefan and she broke up; Stefan, noticing the eerie similarities between Katherine and Elena as of late, decided to break the cycle and began dating Caroline.

But, worst of all, when Elena finally (or rather knew she had no other option) admitted she loved Damon, the vampire disregarded her confession, telling her he'd moved on—with m/n of all people.

"Elena," Damon's stern tone caused the girl to break eye contact and look expectantly at the vampire. A part of her still hoped Damon would realize the mistake he was making, but as the vampire continued talking, hope vanished.

"I don't love you. M/n made me realize that what we had was toxic and borderline obsessive. Being with Stefan, then me, Matt—that isn't love."

"Don't try to tell me how I feel," Elena exclaimed. "I'm sorry it took me such a long time to realize my feelings, but you can't tell me what I feel for you isn't valid."

Feeling bold, Elena stepped forward, about to touch Damon and reel him back into her web of manipulation, when m/n had enough and pinned the human to the wall, his hand on her throat. Uncaring if she could breathe, m/n felt this was sufficient punishment for Elena, thinking she could touch what was his. 

Elena gasped for breath as m/n's grip tightened, her eyes widening with fear. "You thought you could have it all, didn't you?" he sneered, his cold e/c eyes piercing into hers.

"Stefan, Damon, and whoever else caught your fleeting attention. You don't care about anyone other than yourself. Where was this love when Damon was begging you to choose him? Your exact words were nobody could love a monster like you. And now you want to rewrite history? He's with me now, and I suggest you come to terms with that."

With a final, disdainful glance, m/n released his grip on Elena's throat. "You're twisting everything!" she exclaimed after regaining composure, her voice strained. "You don't know the whole story. What Damon and I have is real."

As Elena struggled to defend herself, Damon's expression shifted with each word she uttered. At first, her claim to have loved him drew a flicker of skepticism in his eyes. However, as she delved into the reasons for denying his love, a mix of hurt and anger played across his features. "I loved him, but he was too caught up in his own darkness to see it."

Damon's jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with a wounded expression. "People change, m/n. Damon could have changed for me." The pair of vampires now stared in disbelief. How had Elena managed to turn herself into a victim in this situation?

"Change? Is that what you call it?" Damon's retort cut through the air like a cold gust of wind, his voice edged with bitterness. His eyes, once clouded with hurt, now blazed with a fiery resolve. "You left, Elena. You chose someone else. You choose Stefan."

M/n, standing beside Damon, could sense the raw emotion emanating from the vampire, a poignant mixture of anger and hurt.

"M/n accepted me for who I am. He didn't demand that I change, mold myself into someone more palatable to fit your version of love. You can't rewrite history just because you don't like the ending."  

Frustration etched across Elena's face. "Fine, have it your way," she spat, casting one last resentful glance at Damon and m/n before storming out of the house, the door slamming shut behind her. Even as the sound of Elena's car drew farther away from the boarding house, Damon's eyes lingered on the closed door. 

M/n turned to Damon, his gaze softening as he assessed his lover beside him. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah," Damon replied, "Thanks for handling that."

M/n nodded, his expression conveying understanding. "You know I've got your back, always." Damon's eyes softened, a subtle warmth replacing the tension that had gripped him moments before. He didn't need grand gestures or elaborate confessions; the simplicity of m/n's words told him everything he needed to know.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[just-null]

PET AU?????!!!! Oh mighty cult leader please give us, your greatful pitful annons, your divine words and opinions (I would cuddle the heck out of all of themm!!!)

As you wish, my beloved cult member!!

this is more of an explanation of the universe than headcanons. Those will be next, but I hope it's still interesting!! This will be tagged under "null kny pet au" to not be confused with anyone else's version

Long story short— reincarnation is a thing here! Bad people turn into animals and go through an endless cycle over and over until they've truly repented for their misdeeds.

To make things interesting, I bent the rules of how things usually work! This is my version of a pet au, and of course, is still yandere because your cult leader is an addict. I'M SORRY IF YOU WERE EXPECTING FLUFF.... THATS LATER. TRUST!!!!!!!!!

[CW! dark themes, alluding to past trauma and "self exit," self destructive behaviors(?), sedation and drugs, dehumanization(?), yandere obsessive goodness]

The pet aspect of this au!

Demons are hybrids who're likely to restart their cycle, giving them their nickname of lost souls. Human characters are hybrids at the pinnacle of rehabilitation, referred to as guiding souls. And you, who's nearby their hybrid shelter. Either working in it or being in its vicinity.

Guiding souls are allowed to be housed by responsible candidates, but it's unlikely for lost souls. Either way the problem is they turn everyone away except you.

Both guiding souls and lost souls have a deep rooted affection towards you. You definitely don't remember it, but they've been with you for many, many, MANY life times, always restarting and eagerly awaiting for stage three and four of the cycle to find you again.

Lower and Upper moons + Muzan have reincarnated more times than you can fathom, yet they can remember most of them. Their psyche is fragile and incredibly hostile towards almost anybody. Not recommended for new staff or housing candidates.

Slayers + Ubuyashiki reincarnated more than average. They committed sins they're ashamed of and show great promise for change. They're practically regular model citizens, except for the occasional outburst. Very well liked by staff and potential housing candidates!!

Guiding souls and lost souls are separated in the shelter but are occasionally allowed to roam and interact with each other. They bicker at best and get into full fist fights at worst. It's highly recommended to be gentle but firm with both. Only guiding and lost souls have both seen and experienced the worst of what life can offer, and staff don't want to cause a frenzy by startling them.

———

They're not always transparent with their thoughts. It's more than likely that they don't tell you about their experiences as most would rather focus on their life now rather than how it used to be or what's coming next. Some will tell you if asked, others will dance around it, and others initially refuse.

Still, they'll go through the agony and pain of life after miserable life again and again if it meant being blessed by your light in one of them.

If they're able to have feelings this intense for one being, lost souls refuse to see themselves in the wrong. Feelings like this should be praised. They should be considered good in the eyes of the divine, shouldn't it? What if the universe is wrong for once, huh?! They've lied, cheated, stole, hurt, even killed all to be able to get to you sooner. To feel you again! Their feelings for you are so pure, there's no way it could possibly be another reason to restart!! Even if it was, does it really matter?! What the universe dictates is irrelevant anyway, you're their choice and always will be. So long as you have a soul that continues to shine brightly, they'll find their way towards you when the cycle restarts. Guiding souls are.. anxious. They want to do good by you, want to be seen with love like they've achieved before, want to get to know every version of you and fall in love with every iteration. The finish line is RIGHT there, they know this, it's always been so close, and they'll be able to live by your side as equals.. But they know if they complete the cycle, complete stage four, become fully reborn, they won't remember you. After so many horrible lives lived, they finally understood what it meant to be remorseful about what led them into this mess. Saying that, they can't bring themselves to let go of you. What's the point in living a peaceful existence when there will always be a part of them missing? That's why they "personally restart" their cycle, uncaring that they're so close to forgiveness.

Not every life was kind on them. Silver lining, at least they know they have a new body without the physical scars of their experiences anymore, and of course, you! Though.. even you were harsh sometimes, but they'd rather pull all their teeth out than leave your side. Preferably, they hope you'll throw them a bone and be cordial at least, but if you want to beat, scream, or drive them away, they'll always come back. No matter what you do, they'll forever be loyal to you and you only.

If this is what it takes, they'll love you over and over in this never ending torturous loop until time ends, so until then, spare them a glance, yeah? You don't know how much they've missed you..

—————

Unnecessarily detailed lore:

SHORT STORY LONG, reincarnation is real here, and it's commonly known that when bad people die, their soul is reborn into an animal. Bad meaning murder, assault, ruining someone's life, intense crimes like that. It can be avoided if the soul had no other choice or feels deep remorse prior to their human life ending.

Failure to meet those requirements begins "the cycle." Each lifetime is a show of dedication to turn back into a full human. A step towards forgiveness from the world they wronged. Souls will retain the excruciating memory of their lives before, only given the mercy of forgetting and keeping the wisdom they earned once they're reborn into a full blooded human.

Animals who're just animals exist, but it's extremely difficult to tell who's a soul under trial and who's not.

It starts off simple, an insect. Depending on how bad the soul was, they'll be something that has a difficult life, like those moths that starve to death upon entering adulthood. Souls will always progress to the next stage after this one, temporarily forgetting about their previous lives.

The next life is exactly the same, but souls regain the ability to remember all their past lives again.

Next is a land mammal or aquatic creature, something easier than before, but still not strong enough to cause havoc. They have a little more intelligence than before.

Then souls become half human, half animal, or more commonly known, hybrids. They might as well be human with animal characteristics, but due to societal interference and their history, they're regarded as subhuman. Like pets.

Lastly, they are fully human, where they get to keep their appreciation for life and forget the past.

The real test is during stage four. If the soul proves to have learned nothing from their previous lives, they'll restart the cycle from the beginning and try again. Ending their life will not count and only restart the cycle. They must die of natural causes.

Extra notes:

There are souls who've restarted numerous times that when they reach stage four again, they're very fragile or aggressive. Due to this, humans adapted to shelter them and help give them another chance at life. It's not uncommon for these souls to try and use their memories to give themselves an upper hand in their next life, forcing humans to give them less autonomy. The more aggressive a soul the more humans will have to use force to keep them down such as sedation, muzzling, restraints. It's often used for lost and guiding souls out of any other type of hybrid but used as a last resort. Risks like these are one of the main reason why hybrids aren't allowed on the streets without supervision or an owner. Souls under trial can get attached to one another, familial wise, platonically, or romantically. As a twisted sense of both mercy and punishment, the world allows them to be reborn together. The cruel part comes when the older of the pair is the first to be reborn, leaving the younger to follow when it's their time. At least they know that the world will allow them to find each other once again in the next life. Sometimes, souls under trial try finding the human soul they've grown attached to in stages three and four, in this case, you. Because of the never ending cycle of punishment, they crave your hold, your care, your love. You. They want to get back to you as soon as possible, and if that means coming to you as a small animal first, then so be it. Some have probably done that numerous times before.

Truly, reincarnated souls who've grown attached to someone are dangerous both to others and themselves. They'll do anything for their human and let their human do anything them.

The current life cycle where this au takes place is one of the best life times they've all had. So yes, cuddling them is like winning the jackpot!

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 6

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: joel finally let him make a woman out of you, as you both now in this together, just you and him.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 6

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 5

next | chapter 7

Another week had begun its slow, inevitable march toward Sunday, the day of the dance troupe’s performance, and every day felt more intense than the last. You were drowning in rehearsals, schoolwork, and the looming graduation that was just weeks away. Every minute of your day seemed spoken for, filled with the weight of responsibility and expectation. But even in the midst of all this, you and Joel found ways to be together.

Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, you’d sneak out of your window and meet him in the truck parked a few blocks away. Or he’d call you, his voice a low, comforting murmur as you curled up in bed, the house quieter without your father’s overbearing presence. Your mother, wrapped up in her own world, turned a blind eye to your late nights, allowing you more freedom as long as you kept up appearances during the day. It was in these stolen moments, with the world asleep, that you felt the pull between you and Joel growing stronger.

Being with him was like finding refuge from a storm. His presence calmed you, his voice soothed you, and his touch—those rare, fleeting moments when your hands brushed or when he held you close—ignited something deep inside you. You were falling for him, and you knew it. It wasn’t just infatuation or some fleeting crush. It was the kind of love that snuck up on you slowly, like a vine wrapping around your heart, binding you to him with every passing day.

Joel felt it too, though he struggled to name it. He’d never intended to fall in love again, especially not with you, so young and full of life. But there it was, this fierce protectiveness that had morphed into something much deeper. It was in the way he thought about you constantly, the way his heart twisted when he saw you smile, the way he ached for you in ways that scared him. Love had a way of finding him, even when he thought he’d shut the door on it for good.

Yet, neither of you spoke of it. The word “love” hung in the air, unspoken, because saying it out loud would change everything. So you let it linger, allowing the unspoken bond to grow, rich with possibilities and fears.

At the church, rehearsals were growing more intense with each passing day. Jemima was absent, ill with the flu, and it had spread like wildfire that she and Ben were expecting their first child. The news sent waves of excitement through the troupe, but it also left Ben in charge, his presence more pronounced now that Jemima wasn’t there to temper him.

You began to notice things about Ben that made your skin crawl. He wasn’t just watching you; he was watching all of the younger girls too, his eyes lingering just a little too long. He was full of compliments and encouragements, and while the other girls seemed to lap it up, something about it felt wrong to you. It was subtle—just a hint of something dark lurking beneath his charming exterior. But you could sense it, like the distant rumble of thunder on a clear day.

After rehearsal, you decided to stay behind in the church, needing a moment to yourself. The soft strains of gospel music echoed through the empty hall, and you let it wash over you, trying to clear your mind. Emma was there too, chatting away about the upcoming performance, and to your surprise, Ellie had stayed as well, snapping pictures on her phone.

“These are for the behind-the-scenes album I’m putting together,” she said with a grin, her camera clicking away as she captured the stained glass windows, the pews, the half-empty stage. Ellie had a sharp eye, always finding beauty in the mundane.

Just as you were starting to relax, the heavy oak door creaked open, and Ben walked in, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. “Afternoon, girls,” he greeted, his voice smooth as ever.

“Afternoon, Ben,” you, Emma, and Ellie chorused in return, each in your own tone. Emma’s voice was bright and eager, yours polite but reserved, and Ellie’s—Ellie’s had a slight edge to it.

“You’re all doing great,” Ben continued, his gaze sweeping over you. “The routine is really coming together. I’m impressed. Just a few more adjustments, and you’ll be perfect for Sunday.”

Emma giggled, clearly pleased with his praise. “Thanks, Ben. We’ve been working hard.”

Ben smiled at her, and then his eyes settled on you, and you felt that uncomfortable prickle again. “And you, you’ve really found your rhythm. It’s good to see,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer, more personal.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Ben. Just trying to keep up.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Oh, you’re doing more than keeping up. You’re leading the pack. Really standing out.” His compliment was laced with something that made you want to shrink back, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see your discomfort.

Ellie, who had been quietly observing from behind her camera, stepped forward. “You know, Ben, the girls have been working really hard. Maybe you should give them a break and let them have some fun,” she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

Ben’s smile faltered just a fraction. “Fun is important too, Ellie,” he said smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice now. He turned his attention back to you. “Anyway, keep it up. I'll see you girls tomorrow for another practice," You and Emma nodded and say goodbye to him.

He lingered a moment longer, his eyes flicking between you and Ellie, before finally walking away, leaving the three of you in a heavy silence.

Ellie waited until he was out of earshot before turning to you and Emma. “Is it just me or something's off with that new Pastor?"

Emma frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Ben’s great. He’s just being supportive.”

Ellie shook her head, her expression serious. “Supportive, sure. But there’s something else. I don’t know, he just… he gives me the creeps.”

You chuckled softly as you bent down, cooling down your sore leg muscles after the intense rehearsal. “He’s just being nice, Ellie,” you said, glancing up at her with a small smile. “He’s new in town, and Jemima just got back here after years. Maybe he’s still adjusting.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “Yeah, but still, something’s off. Have you noticed how he barely interacts with Jemima? It’s like they’re not even married.”

Emma, sitting nearby and stretching her arms, shrugged. “That’s not so unusual. They got married really young, and Jemima’s father pretty much arranged the whole thing. Sometimes that kind of marriage starts off with all the passion in the world, but then, over time, it fades. You get bored. What was once exciting becomes mundane, especially if you’re not with the right person. I just hope that doesn’t happen with Jim and me.”

Emma’s words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself lost in thought. You and Joel were in that heated, intoxicating phase where every touch felt electric, every glance held a thousand unspoken promises. But what if it didn’t last? What if the fire between you eventually died down, leaving only ashes of what once was? Could Joel grow tired of you, the way Ben seemed to have grown distant from Jemima?

Ellie noticed your distraction and nudged you gently. “Hey, you okay? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Emma turned her attention to you as well, her eyes curious. “Yeah, you’re awfully quiet. What about you and this new boy you’ve been spending time with? Have you tried, you know… to please him?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head quickly. “No, I haven’t. He said he doesn’t want to rush things if I’m not ready.”

Emma smiled warmly, her eyes soft with understanding. “Aw, he sounds sweet. Taking things slow is good.”

Ellie, however, wasn’t about to let the conversation end there. “Wait, who’s this boy? Jamie?” The mention of his name made your heart tighten, a pang of discomfort cutting through you.

Emma was quick to correct her. “No, not Jamie. She broke up with him. This one’s new.” Emma leaned in closer, a mischievous grin on her face. “She said she wants to please him, and you know… blow him.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose, half in disgust and half in amusement. “Gross! But seriously, who is this guy? You’re being so mysterious about him.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone sinking in deep water. There was no way you could tell them the truth—not about Joel, not about the intense, forbidden love that had blossomed between you two in the shadows. Instead, you kept your tone light, trying to mask the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“So,” you began cautiously, your voice a little shaky, “what if there’s someone… someone who makes you feel everything at once? Like, when I’m with him, it’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and it’s terrifying, but it’s also exhilarating, like I could just… fly.”

Emma, who was a little older and more experienced in these matters, tilted her head thoughtfully. “That sounds intense. But in a good way, right? Like, you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before?”

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. “Yeah, exactly. But it’s also scary, you know? Like, what if I’m the only one feeling this way? What if… what if he doesn’t feel the same, or he’s just—”

Ellie, who was the youngest but no less insightful, cut in. “Boys are confusing. I don’t understand them half the time. But if he’s making you feel like that, it sounds like he’s important to you. Have you talked to him about it? Like, really talked?”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “Not really. It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure if I’m even making sense to myself. It’s like… when I’m with him, everything else fades away, and it’s just us. But then I start thinking—what if I’m just dreaming? What if he’s not really into me the way I’m into him? What if… what if I’m not enough?”

Emma leaned forward, her gaze steady and warm. “Love is a gamble, always. It’s putting your heart out there, knowing it might get hurt. But from what you’re saying, it sounds like you care about him a lot. And that’s not something to take lightly. The fact that he makes you feel like you’re flying… that’s something special. Don’t be afraid of it.”

Ellie, despite her inexperience, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe I don’t get boys, but I do know that if someone makes you feel that way, you’ve got to go for it. But also… protect yourself. Make sure he’s worth it.”

You took a deep breath, their words comforting but not fully easing the uncertainty gnawing at you. “It’s just… I’m falling for him, I think. Really falling. But I keep wondering—what if he doesn’t catch me? What if I just… crash?”

Emma nodded thoughtfully, her eyes soft with understanding. "If he’s showing you that he cares, even in small ways, that’s a good sign. Maybe he does have feelings for you, but sometimes guys—especially older guys—are more complicated. They’ve been through stuff, you know? Past relationships, heartbreaks, things that might make them scared to fall again.”

You froze for a moment, realizing your slip-up, but quickly tried to cover it. "Wait, how do you know he's older than me? I never said that."

Emma smirked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn’t have to. The way you describe him—how he’s cautious, how he’s been through stuff—it’s not hard to guess. Sounds like he’s probably some college guy you met at a party or something.”

You bit your lip, Emma’s words hitting closer to home than she knew. Joel had his scars, that much you could tell. You’d seen the way he sometimes looked at you, as if he wanted to reach out but something held him back. The fear of history repeating itself, perhaps, of loving and losing all over again.

“But if he’s giving you mixed signals,” Emma continued gently, “it might be worth talking to him about it. Slowly, of course. Just… open up the conversation. Let him know how you’re feeling. Sometimes they just need a little nudge to be honest about what’s going on in their head.”

You sighed, thinking of Joel’s careful distance, the way he always seemed to pull back just when things got too intense. “I’m just scared, you know? We were talking about Ben and Jemima earlier, how things can start off so strong, and then… fade away. What if that happens to us? What if we’re so in love now, but then he gets bored, or… or realizes he doesn’t actually want me?”

Emma reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “That’s a valid fear, especially with what we see around us. But relationships are built on more than just the initial spark. It’s about growing together, working through the ups and downs. If you’re both willing to put in the effort, to communicate and be honest with each other, there’s no reason it has to fade. But you have to trust each other too.”

You nodded slowly, taking in her words. Trust. That was the foundation of everything, wasn’t it? And while you knew you trusted Joel with your life, trusting him with your heart was a different matter entirely. The idea of opening up that conversation with him, of laying your feelings bare, was terrifying—but maybe it was the only way to move forward.

“Just… take it one step at a time,” Emma added softly. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just be honest with yourself and with him, and see where it leads.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little. 

Ellie leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity. "He’s older? Just tell me who it is, c’monnn!"

You felt your heart race, a mix of panic and amusement bubbling up inside you. If only they knew who you were actually talking about. You shot Ellie a look, half-joking, half-serious. “Oh, if you found out who I’m talking about, you’d… you’d probably kill me.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Now you have to tell me. Who is this mystery guy? Don’t leave me hanging!”

You shook your head, laughing nervously as you tried to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it was headed into. “Nope, not happening. But trust me, he’s… someone who cares a lot about me. And that’s what matters, right?”

Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly, clearly amused by your evasiveness. “Alright, keep your secrets. But just know, we’re here for you, okay? If you ever need to talk… or if you just want to gush about how amazing he is.”

Ellie gave you a teasing nudge. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, if he’s treating you right, that’s all that matters. If not, we'll kick his senior ass,"

You chuckled at Ellie’s playful threat, though the thought of her actually kicking Joel’s ass was beyond ironic. If only she knew the truth—she’d be horrified, not to mention utterly confused.

As the three of you wrapped up your conversation and began gathering your things to head home, you felt a mix of relief and longing. Joel had promised to take you to the night fair in Houston tomorrow, a rare escape from your daily routine, and the idea of spending the night at his Houston house afterward made your heart race. You’d already told your mom another carefully crafted lie, saying you’d be staying at Ellie’s for the night. Your mom never doubted you, never checked. She believed in the goodness of her preacher’s daughter, convinced that you were beyond sin.

Lately, you found yourself praying more, asking for forgiveness for the web of lies you were spinning, for the thoughts and actions that felt so dirty, so far from the holy path you were supposed to walk. You quoted scriptures to yourself, verses about purity and truth, trying to cling to some semblance of the person you used to be. But each time you whispered those prayers, guilt weighed heavily on your soul like a stone sinking deeper into a dark, endless sea.

As you stepped outside the church and said your goodbyes to Emma and Ellie, you felt a sudden chill. Just as you turned to leave, Ben appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump.

“Oh, Ben! Lord, you scare me,” you exclaimed, trying to steady your racing heart.

He chuckled softly, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Just finishing up some business with the church elders.”

You nodded, still a bit rattled. “I thought you’d gone home already.”

He shook his head, looking at you with those intense eyes that always seemed to linger a moment too long. “Not yet. I had a few things to take care of. Are you heading home now?”

You nodded again, more out of politeness than anything else. “Yeah, I’m walking this time."

"No ride from your friend today?" Ben asked again, "No," You answered, "He's busy," you smile at him politely.

Ben’s expression brightened, and he offered, “Do you need a lift? I’m heading to Burger King, and it’s on the way to your place.”

You hesitated, a little voice inside you whispering to say no. But you’d been raised to never refuse a kind offer, especially from someone who seemed to mean well. It was one of the many lessons your father had drilled into you.

“Sure, that would be nice,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ben smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up, “Great. My car’s just around the corner.”

Ben’s car ride was quiet at first, an awkward silence settling between the two of you. You stared out the window, the streets passing by in a blur, trying to shake the unease that had crept into your chest. But the silence grew heavier, so you decided to break it.

“So, you lived in Mexico before coming here?” you asked, glancing over at him. “How long were you there?”

Ben’s face lit up at the question, the tension in the car easing as he spoke. “Yeah, I did. Jemima and I moved there right after we got married. I was a preacher there, too. The first year was tough—language barriers and all. But now I’m fluent in Spanish. Mexico… it’s an incredible place.”

He launched into stories about his time in Mexico, his voice warm and animated. He spoke highly of the country, describing the vibrant culture, the beautiful landscapes, and the deep faith of the people he ministered to. You found yourself listening intently, the charm in his voice almost infectious.

“You ever been to Mexico?” he asked suddenly, turning the conversation back to you.

You shook your head, a little embarrassed. “No, I’ve never really been anywhere.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “You should go someday. It’s life-changing.”

As he continued to speak, occasionally cracking jokes that were surprisingly funny, you couldn’t help but notice how likable he seemed. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, his words smooth and reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing a bit in his presence.

Before long, you arrived at Burger King. Ben pulled up to the drive-thru and asked, “What do you want? My treat.”

“Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks,” you replied, not wanting to be a bother.

But Ben insisted, ordering something for you anyway. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he said with a grin.

As you waited in the drive-thru line, he pulled out his phone, showing you photos from his time in Mexico. The images were stunning—vibrant markets, serene beaches, and old churches with intricate architecture.

“Wow, these are beautiful,” you murmured, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, it was a special time in my life,” Ben replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

You couldn’t help but feel drawn in by his stories and the way he spoke of his experiences with such passion. Yet, beneath it all, there was still that small, persistent feeling in your gut—something you couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

You listened to Ben’s words, nodding politely, but that uneasy feeling in your stomach only grew stronger. His tone had shifted, taking on the familiar cadence of the sermons you’d heard your father give a thousand times. He began talking about the girls in Mexico, how they were deeply religious, involved in church activities, just like you and your friends.

“It’s good, you know,” Ben continued, his voice warm with approval. “To have a group of young people who still believe in God and walk in His ways. Especially girls your age—this is the time when they’re most likely to stray, to rebel and search for themselves. Like your friend, Emma. How old is she?”

“She’s 20,” you replied, wondering why he was suddenly bringing Emma into the conversation.

Ben nodded thoughtfully. “So she’s the oldest in your dance group?”

“Yeah,” you answered, feeling a slight unease. You couldn’t help but notice that Ben didn’t seem to pay much attention to Emma, probably because she was older, and now that you thought about it, his attention had always been more focused on the younger girls.

“Girls around that age need God the most,” Ben said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “That’s when the temptations are strongest—sex before marriage, drugs, alcohol… it’s important to stay on the right path, to keep close to God.”

You nodded again, but internally, you were starting to feel a bit trapped, as if you were listening to one of your father’s lectures all over again.

Ben shifted the conversation to Ellie. “And how old is Ellie?”

“She’s 16,” you replied, wondering why he was so interested.

“Ah, Ellie… she’s a bit of a tomboy, isn’t she?” Ben remarked, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “Dresses like a boy… but, you know, girls should embrace their femininity, dress like girls. It’s how God made them, after all.”

His words made you cringe inwardly, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. His opinions were starting to feel like a lecture on how you and your friends should live your lives, and it was beginning to make you feel nauseated.

Then, suddenly, he looked over at you, his eyes lingering a little too long. “And you… how old are you?”

You tell him your age, trying to keep your voice steady. Ben’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “You look younger than your age. Act younger too. I wouldn’t have guessed,"

The comment sent a chill down your spine, and you found yourself wondering why he was so focused on everyone’s age. Before you could dwell on it too long, the drive-thru window opened, and the employee handed over the bag of food.

“Here we go,” Ben said with a smile, taking the bag. The momentary distraction was a relief, but that uncomfortable feeling still lingered in the back of your mind, making you question why Ben was so interested in all these details.

Ben handed you the bag of food with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You took it, muttering a quick “thank you” as you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, with you staring out the window, lost in thought. The houses and trees blurred together as you tried to shake off the lingering discomfort that Ben’s questions had stirred in you.

Before you knew it, you were in front of your house. Ben pulled up to the curb and turned to you with that same smile. “Here we are,” he said. “It was nice talking to you. Remember, if you need anything, anything at all, you can reach out to me, okay? I’d be happy to help.”

You forced a smile and nodded, even though your mind was already halfway out the door. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate it.”

As you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that the conversation was over. You waved goodbye as Ben drove off, then turned and walked up to your front door.

Inside, the familiar smell of home greeted you, comforting in its simplicity. You found your mom in the kitchen, prepping ingredients for dinner.

“Mama, I'm home,” you said, setting the food on the counter.

She glanced up from her chopping board and smiled. “Hello, sweetheart. Who dropped you off?”

“Ben,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Ben?” your mom echoed, her brow furrowing slightly before she nodded. “Alright, then. Go get cleaned up, and then come help me with dinner, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” you said, grateful for the chance to escape to your room for a moment.

You hurried upstairs, your thoughts still swirling from the strange conversation with Ben. As you washed your hands and face, you tried to focus on the routine, grounding yourself in the simple actions. But Ben’s words kept echoing in your mind, especially the way he’d looked at you, his questions about your friends, and the way he’d emphasized that you could reach out to him anytime.

A shiver ran down your spine as you recalled the way his gaze had lingered on you, the way he’d seemed to be sizing you up. You pushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the here and now, on helping your mom with dinner and the promise of a normal evening.

But even as you headed back downstairs to the kitchen, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about Ben just wasn’t right.

***

Joel sat heavily on one of the barstools at Tommy’s place, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light, reflecting the turbulence of his thoughts. It had been a rough day, and he welcomed the soothing burn of the alcohol, hoping it might dull the ache of his internal struggle. Tommy, ever the supportive brother, poured himself a drink and settled beside Joel, the two of them sinking into the comfortable chaos of their late-night ritual.

Joel took a moment to catch his breath as he dialed Ellie’s number, the familiar, comforting weight of his phone in his hand. He left a quick voicemail, letting her know not to wait up for him, and that he had a spare key if she needed it. “Just lock up when you head to bed,” he said, his voice rough but warm. As he hung up, he turned his attention back to the whiskey, its amber glow mirroring the turbulence inside him.

The amber liquid seemed to dance in the dim light, reflecting the stormy skies of his mind. He took a deep sip, savoring the burn as it traced a fiery path down his throat. The warmth was soothing, but it did little to calm the storm raging within him. The ache in his chest felt like an endless ocean, where the waves were laced with memories and fears.

As he sat there, the world around him became a blur of muted colors and distant sounds. His thoughts drifted to you, the person who had entered his life like a sudden gust of wind through a cracked window—unexpected, refreshing, and profoundly unsettling. You were like a burst of sunlight breaking through the relentless clouds of his past, casting long shadows of doubt and hope across the landscape of his heart.

Joel had always been a man of walls and distance, his heart a fortress built from the rubble of loss and pain. After the death of his wife and daughter, he had fortified himself against the world, each brick a testament to his fear and grief. But you, with your light and laughter, had begun to chip away at those walls, like the slow, persistent erosion of the sea against a stubborn cliff.

He was beginning to realize the depth of his feelings for you, but it was like trying to catch a falling star with bare hands—beautiful, elusive, and fraught with danger. You had stirred something in him that he thought was long dead, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his heart. It was as if you had reignited a fire that he had buried deep beneath layers of sorrow and self-preservation.

Yet, with every flicker of warmth came a wave of fear. Joel’s desire to protect you was intertwined with his dread of falling too deeply, of losing himself in a love that might only lead to more pain. He was terrified of opening up, of allowing himself to be vulnerable again. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the abyss of his own emotions, afraid to take that final step.

The night wore on, and Joel’s thoughts remained tangled in the delicate threads of his emotions. The whiskey continued to burn its way through him, a temporary balm for the deeper ache that lingered just beneath the surface. As he drank, he found himself grappling with the realization that, for the first time in a very long time, he felt truly alive—an unsettling, exhilarating sensation that both frightened and exhilarated him.

Tommy watched him, the lines of concern etched deeply on his face as he took in Joel’s introspective silence. “You alright there, brother? Something on your mind?”

Joel looked up, the weight of his feelings heavy in his gaze. “Yeah, just... thinking about things."

Tommy leaned in, his eyes steady and empathetic. The soft strains of “Helplessly Hoping” played in the background, its melancholic melody wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket. He adjusted the volume on his Bluetooth stereo, the music providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

“You can talk to me, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. “What’s got you so wrapped up in your thoughts?”

Joel took a deep breath, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he considered his response. The song’s delicate notes seemed to echo his own uncertainty. He knew he couldn’t lay everything bare—there were things he couldn’t quite put into words, and a person he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“It’s... complicated,” Joel began, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid. “There’s someone in my life who’s making me rethink a lot of things.”

Tommy’s interest piqued, but he remained patient. “Complicated how? If you need advice, I’m here.”

Joel hesitated, the words feeling too heavy to articulate. “I’ve been closed off for a long time. Lost my way after... well, after everything. And now... I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s like she’s pulled me out of this dark place I’ve been in.”

Tommy’s expression softened, sensing the depth of Joel’s struggle. “So this person, she’s important to you?”

Joel nodded slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah. She’s... making me feel alive again. But it’s not simple. I’m afraid of what it means, and I’m scared of letting myself fall too deep.”

Tommy took a thoughtful sip of his drink, considering Joel’s words. “You know, sometimes the hardest part is letting go of the past. You’ve been through a lot, Joel. But if this person is bringing light into your life, maybe that’s something worth holding onto.”

Joel glanced at Tommy, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and apprehension. “But what if it’s just a fleeting feeling? What if I’m setting myself up for more hurt?”

Tommy shook his head, his demeanor calm and grounded. “Nothing in life is guaranteed. But you can’t keep living in fear of what might happen. Sometimes you have to take a chance, even if it’s scary. You’ve got to ask yourself if the risk is worth the potential for happiness.”

Joel considered Tommy’s words, the song’s lyrics mingling with his thoughts like a haunting reminder of his inner turmoil. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy replied. “Love’s not easy. It’s messy and unpredictable, but that’s part of what makes it so powerful. If you’re feeling something genuine, maybe it’s worth exploring, even if it means facing your fears.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the weight of Tommy’s advice settling over him. The whiskey had lost some of its warmth, replaced by a cold clarity that made his choices seem more imminent. “I just don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the back, a gesture of camaraderie and support. “You won’t know unless you try."

The room fell silent, save for the soft strains of the song and the occasional clink of glasses. Joel’s mind raced with the possibility of what could be, the fear and excitement warring within him. He knew the path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope—a faint light guiding him through the darkness.

***

The night fair in Houston was alive with energy and light, a vibrant spectacle against the dark sky. As you and Joel arrived, the fairgrounds were bustling with people, the air filled with the sweet scent of cotton candy and the tantalizing aroma of various foods from the stalls.

Joel parked the car and you both walked hand in hand through the fair. The distant music of carnival rides and the laughter of children filled the air. Brightly colored lights illuminated the various attractions, casting a magical glow over the scene.

You and Joel started with the classic fare: fluffy cotton candy, crisp corn dogs, and a shared bucket of buttery popcorn. You laughed as Joel tried to guess which food would be the most calorie-laden, joking about how he was saving up for a “cheat day” in honor of the fair. The two of you wandered through the stalls, stopping occasionally to admire the trinkets and games.

At one point, you spotted the towering Ferris wheel, its lights twinkling like a cascade of stars against the night sky. You eagerly suggested riding it, and Joel, though hesitant at first, agreed with a soft chuckle. As the Ferris wheel slowly lifted you high above the fairgrounds, you marveled at the breathtaking view of the city below. The lights danced like fireflies, and for a moment, everything felt serene and perfect.

Afterward, you both ventured into the various game booths, trying your luck at the ring toss, shooting galleries, and more. Joel’s competitive spirit shone through as he focused intently on a ring toss game, and with a triumphant grin, he managed to win you a large, cuddly teddy bear.

You clutched the bear tightly, beaming up at Joel. “You did it! Thank you!”

Joel chuckled, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the festive lights around you. “I promised I’d win you something special, didn’t I?”

You hug him and then saw a photobooth, "Oh my god! They have photobooth, let's go, Joel!"

Joel followed you to the photobooth, his initial reluctance evident in the furrow of his brow. “Come on, doll. I told you, I don’t like my picture taken. I’m not exactly a fan of how I look in photos.”

You tugged on his hand, laughing as you pulled him towards the booth. “Oh, come on, Joel. It’ll be fun! And besides, we don’t have any photos of us together. I want to remember this night.”

Joel sighed, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright. But don’t expect me to be smiling too pretty.”

Inside the photobooth, you both squeezed in, the cramped space adding to the charm of the moment. You set the timer and started with silly faces, pulling exaggerated expressions that made Joel chuckle despite himself. You blew kisses at him and cheekily tried to steal a few pecks, each one making him smile more genuinely.

Joel’s smiles grew softer, his eyes tender as he watched you. In the final frame, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, which prompted you to pull him closer. The moment turned more intimate, and you both ended up sharing a sweet, lingering kiss, captured forever in the final photo.

When the strip of photos emerged, you grinned at the sequence of images. Each picture captured a different facet of your shared joy and affection. You turned to the attendant and asked, “Do you have a pen?”

After receiving a pen, you carefully wrote on the photo strip, “Me and Joel. Houston.” You then showed Joel the photos, laughing as you did. “Look at these! They’re so cute. I’m keeping one for myself.”

Joel took the photo strip, his gaze soft as he looked at the images. “They turned out pretty good, huh?” He smiled, his tone warm and genuine.

You carefully folded one photo and tucked it into your wallet, a small keepsake of your time together. Joel slipped his into his wallet, keeping it close. “I’ll keep mine with me too,” he said, a hint of emotion in his voice. “It’s a nice reminder of tonight.”

As you both left the photobooth, the night air felt a bit cooler, but the warmth between you lingered. Joel’s gestures and the shared laughter had added a special touch to the evening. The fair had been a whirlwind of excitement, but it was these small, tender moments that made the night unforgettable.

As the night wore on, you both decided to head back to the house in Houston. The drive was filled with playful banter and comfortable silence. Joel’s excitement about showing you his latest project was palpable.

Arriving at the house, Joel led you inside. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom, the anticipation evident in his step. When you entered the room, you were struck by how beautifully it had been transformed. The walls were a rich, warm brown, and the classic-modern furnishings blended seamlessly with a touch of Southern charm. The bed was made with crisp, white linens, and the room was thoughtfully decorated with subtle touches that made it feel inviting and elegant.

“Oh, Joel,” you said, your eyes wide with admiration. “This is amazing. Did you really do all this by yourself?”

Joel nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. “Yeah. I figured if we’re going to be spending a lot of time here, it should be comfortable. We’ve been making do with the sofa in the upstairs balcony, and I didn’t want you to keep feeling cramped.”

You walked around the room, touching the smooth surfaces and taking in the details. “It’s perfect. I love it. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he watched you. “I wanted it to be a nice space for us. You’ve been spending a lot of time here, and I wanted you to feel at home. This is our place now.”

You looked back at him, touched by his gesture. “Thank you, Joel. It’s more than I could have imagined. It feels like a real home.”

Joel’s eyes held a mixture of affection and vulnerability. “I’m glad you like it. It’s important to me that you’re comfortable."

You placed the teddy bear on the bedside and flopped onto the bed, the plush comfort enveloping you. You patted the space beside you with a playful smile. “Come on, join me."

Joel hesitated for a moment, then slowly shrugged off his jacket, placing it carefully on the chair. He set his phone and wallet on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and unhurried. With a deep breath, he settled onto the bed beside you, the mattress giving slightly under his weight.

The bed was indeed as comfortable as it looked, and you felt a sense of contentment settle over you as you nestled closer to Joel. He positioned himself beside you, his presence warm and reassuring. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving just the two of you in this peaceful cocoon.

Joel’s hand found yours, their touch a simple yet profound connection. He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting a blend of affection and introspection. “You alright?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, just... happy. You make me really happy. Thank you, Joel.”

Joel’s lips curved into a tender smile before he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was both passionate and soft, a dance of longing and tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. It was as if in that single moment, you both were saying everything that words might fail to express.

When you finally pulled back, you looked into his eyes, your voice steady but filled with earnest emotion. “Joel, I think I’m ready.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ready for what?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words. “I’m ready for you.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay if you’re not. I don’t want to rush you into anything. We can take our time.”

You shook your head, your resolve unwavering. “No, I’m ready. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Joel’s gaze softened, but he was still cautious. “I want to make sure you’re absolutely certain. This is a big step, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The more you talked, the more you felt a growing sense of frustration. You shifted away from him, sitting up and turning to face him, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “What’s wrong with you, Joel? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Joel’s voice was gentle, trying to calm you. “It’s not that, darlin’. I just want to make sure you’re ready. It’s important to me that you feel secure.”

Your eyes filled with a mix of hurt and desperation. “Is it because I’m no longer a virgin? Because I’m not pure? Because of what Jamie did to me?”

Joel's eyes filled with a deep sorrow as he reached out to hold your hand, but you pulled away, your voice trembling with anguish. "What? Baby, it’s not that..."

Before Joel could finish, you cut him off, your words laced with desperation. "Because I'm dirty? Is that it?"

Joel's face crumpled with pain, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. It’s never been about you being dirty.”

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to convey his feelings without causing you more hurt. “Then what is it? I need to know, Joel.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “It’s about protecting you. You've been through a lot, and I’m scared of making things worse for you. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me. This... this is about making sure that when we take this step, it’s because we both feel right about it, not because of anything else.”

Your heart ached with the raw honesty in his voice. “I’m not trying to prove anything, Joel. I just... I want us to be close. I thought we were ready.”

Joel’s hand reached out again, but this time you let him take it. His grip was firm but gentle. “I know you do. And I want that too. But I also want to be sure that we’re both in the right place. I don’t want to rush things and have you regret it. I care about you too much for that.”

The sincerity in his voice, combined with the tenderness of his touch, began to ease the tumult inside you. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing too hard,” you whispered, your voice softening.

Joel shook his head, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s natural to feel this way."

"But, Joel, I'm ready. You won't hurt me." You said, trying to let Joel know how much you trusted him.

Joel hesitated, searching your eyes for any doubt. "Are you really sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, taking his large hand in yours, marveling at the size difference. Slowly, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gently. Then, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking it slowly. Joel’s breath hitched, and you could see the desire in his eyes.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours tentatively. The kiss deepened, and you felt a warmth spread through you, a feeling of being completely and utterly connected. As the kiss grew more passionate, you both slowly began to undress, your clothes falling away like the petals of a flower, revealing the soft, delicate parts of yourselves.

Joel’s touch was gentle, his hands exploring your body with reverence. Every caress was like a whisper of devotion, his fingers tracing patterns of love on your skin. He kissed you again, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, to your collarbone, each kiss a promise of his love and care.

As Joel carefully helped you remove your dress, your scars were now fully visible to him. His eyes took them in, and you saw the mixture of sorrow and anger that flashed across his face. It broke Joel's heart to see what your father had done to you, and a deep anger simmered beneath his gentle exterior.

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell Joel how ashamed you felt, but he cut you off, his voice firm but tender. “There’s no need to be ashamed about it. You are beautiful, you are gorgeous to me.”

His words were a balm to your soul, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. Joel’s hands were steady as he continued to undress you, his touch filled with a mixture of gentleness and determination. He seemed to understand the depth of your vulnerability, treating you with the utmost care.

Joel seemed like the kind of guy who talked you through it during sex, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your anxiety. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve got you. We’ll take this slow, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. Joel’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. He was so careful, so deliberate, as if he were afraid you might break beneath his touch.

He reached for a condom, his actions slow and deliberate, ensuring that everything was as safe as it could be. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, his voice a low murmur. “We’ll take this at your pace.”

You nodded again, your trust in him unwavering. As Joel moved above you, his eyes locked onto yours, you felt a connection that went beyond the physical. It was a melding of souls, a deep, unspoken bond that made you feel cherished and adored.

Joel entered you slowly, his movements careful and measured. You moaned as he growls. The sensation was different. There was no pain, no fear, just a deep sense of intimacy and connection and pleasure.

Joel’s voice continued to guide you, his words a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re amazing.”

Every movement, every touch, was filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. Joel’s hands were everywhere, caressing your skin, holding you close, ensuring that you felt nothing but love and care. The rhythm of his movements was like a dance, slow and deliberate, each motion a careful expression of his devotion to you.

His hands glided over your body, memorizing the feel of you beneath his fingers. He took his time, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the present moment. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

As he moved within you, the initial tension melted away, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure and intimacy. Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and reassurance. Each thrust was measured, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm that built a slow, burning heat between you.

"Oh, Joel," you moan as he keep thrust inside you, your back arched, your eyes rolling deep to above. "Fuck, you're so tight," he cursed.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur. “You feel so good.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the sincerity and warmth in his tone. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solid weight of him against you. The connection between you deepened, each movement syncing perfectly with the other, creating a beautiful harmony.

Joel’s breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low, steady murmur of encouragement and love. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. You’re perfect.”

The way he spoke to you, the care in his touch, made you feel cherished and adored. The pleasure built slowly, a rising wave that grew stronger with each gentle thrust. Joel’s hands found yours, intertwining your fingers, creating a bond that felt unbreakable.

His pace quickened slightly, you felt amazing and wanting for more. As the heat between you intensified, your hands found their way to his back, clutching him closer.

"Joel..."

"Oh my god, Joel,"

Your voice filled the room, moaning his name and calling out, “Oh God, please.” Joel’s eyes darkened with a mix of passion and determination.

“God’s not here, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “God’s not here to save you this time.”

The words sent a thrill through you, and you felt your body responding even more intensely. The feeling was almost overwhelming, and you begged him to go faster. Joel obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, each thrust deeper and more powerful.

The sound of the bed creaking added to the symphony of your shared pleasure, mingling with the moans and groans that filled the room. The intensity of the sensations building within you was almost too much to bear. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, every fiber of your being focused on the incredible feeling Joel was creating inside you.

Joel’s breathing grew ragged, his own moans mixing with yours as he drove deeper into you. “You feel so good,” he cursed under his breath, his voice raw with need. “So tight, so perfect.”

The rhythm of his thrusts was relentless, each one driving you closer to the brink. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as the pressure built, a wave of ecstasy that was about to crash over you.

“Joel...I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the sensation peaked.

Joel’s grip on you tightened, his movements becoming almost frantic as he chased his own release. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice a desperate plea.

With a final, powerful thrust, you felt yourself shatter, your climax washing over you in a tidal wave of pleasure. Your body tensed and then released, a cry of ecstasy escaping your lips. Joel followed moments later, his own release tearing through him, a groan of pure satisfaction as he found his pleasure within you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the mingled breathing of you and Joel as you lay intertwined. The intensity of what you had just shared left you both breathless, your bodies still connected in the aftermath of your shared passion.

Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that made you feel safe and cherished. “You are amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness. “So beautiful.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with the love and connection you felt with him. “You too,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, his touch tender and loving. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a depth of emotion that made your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You have to say it, you need to say you love him.

Taking a deep breath, you cupped his face in your hands, looking deep into his eyes. “Joel, I... I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability and sincerity.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and then softened with an intensity that took your breath away. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if committing the moment to memory.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied, his voice husky with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The words wrapped around your heart, filling you with a warmth and security you had never felt before. Joel’s lips found yours again, this time with a deeper, more fervent kiss, a promise of his unwavering love and devotion.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of completeness, as if everything in your life had led to this very moment. The love you shared was a balm to your soul, healing wounds you had long thought would never mend.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but the connection between you was stronger than ever. Joel rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, savoring the closeness.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. “No matter what.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth of his words settle deep within your heart. “I know,” you whispered back, your voice filled with quiet certainty. “And I’ll always be here for you, too.”

With that, you both drifted off to sleep, your hearts and souls entwined, ready to face whatever the future held together.

[lanasblood]

VIVID DREAMS | neteyam x reader

dedicated to @andraga12​ just because she’s el amor de mi vida who always inspires me to be better, and I wanted to give back some of the love she generously spreads in this fandom with her personality and her writing! 

neteyam artwork by my talented @cinetrix​ (click here to see more) 

pairing: neteyam x female reader (wc: 1.2k)

summary: what do you call the phenomenon, where you cannot control the longing in your eyes or the fire in your loins, where you consistently fall in love with someone every time you see them? as for neteyam, this someone is you. (proceed with caution, his thoughts are unhinged, 18+ mdni)

Being the son of the clan leader had its benefits, but it also came with its downsides. There was immense pressure to be the best in everything, pressure he put on himself, so much that for quite some time — too long for him to admit — he was accompanied by intense stress and sleepless nights. The days blended together, no longer offering a sense of overview, no longer dividing day and night for him. He was a breathing, working mess, alive but barely living, like the remnants of a walking corpse, whose reflexes still functioned. His body was accustomed to it, his strong physique, sculpted by years of discipline, was used to worse actually, but slowly the burden was taking its toll on his mind for he began to see things, hallucinating, as Lo'ak had called it. It had reached such dimensions that his father had sent him on forced leave, a decision that was infuriating in such critical times, but protest was not tolerated, because deep down Neteyam knew his father was right; some days — the most exhausting ones — it was difficult for him to distinguish his dreams from reality as it all blended together, and that was the last alarming sign for him to know he had to fix his work-life-balance, especially when it came to you.

she's a celestial inferno in his mind  the flames consuming him cannot be denied   as every carnal desire burning his skin  raw illusions rise, awakening divine 

The mere thought of you already numbed his senses, consumed him whole, so looking at you right now how you danced along with your friends, your body effortlessly swayed to the rhythm, accompanied by the traditional instruments, did things to him he did not dare to say out loud. There was an undeniable connection; he was longing for you, needing you in ways that couldn't be described. 

Watching you from afar as he leaned against a rock, originally trying to avoid the festivities following the victorious war party he hadn't been allowed to participate in, it was mesmerizing to him how you moved your hips with such sensuality, it took his mind to places. His eyes aglow like molten gold, were glued to your body, followed your every move, refused to leave your enchanting features even for a fleeting moment. The forest immediately dissolved around him into a big blur of dark green, slowly fading into a hushed background, leaving only you as the focal point of his existence, as if completely bewitched by your presence. And for the first time in his life, despite the unyielding strength he commanded in battle, he found himself powerless, absolutely disarmed and vulnerable against the allure you possessed.

He couldn't control the vivid imagines that flooded his mind in the next second when you bend down to gather the empty bottles from the ground so that no one would trip on them, his hidden wants messing with his reality in an instant. His hands on your waist, the rhythm of your bodies in perfect synchrony, the rolling motion of your hips against his, skin on skin, teeth clinking, lips smacking with each hungry kiss. He couldn't help but picture the way you'd respond to his touch, your soft flesh yielding by the firmness of his grip, your head thrown back in ecstasy, your eyes rolling in pleasure, the breathy moans escaping your lips like a siren's call, pulling him closer to you, deeper and deeper into the depths of desire. 

Wishful thinking. 

He knew that he couldn't resist the gravity of his passion any longer. With every breath, every beat of his heart, he discovered a truth — he was falling, falling, falling, and he couldn't deny it.

Neteyam's breath quickened even more when you met his eyes, only for a second before you quickly looked away, his heart pounded in his chest like the loud drums next to the table with drinks, as he fought to control the raw desire that surged within him. The fire in his loins burned brighter as he felt the energy radiating from you, a magnetic pull even, that defied reason, defied control, defied the chaos raging within him, that became a force he could not contain. And even if the yearning in his blood vessels and the longing in his eyes spoke volumes, his lips remained silent for he had not once dared to confess.

That was however until he heard your laugh a second later when one of your friends said something to you; the combination of eye contact and your melodic laugh gave him the courage to approach you, start a conversation, he had done it many times before, so he could do it again, he was good at small talk, he was Neteyam, it was nothing but child's play for him, he would talk to you and— 

"Does Neteyam have any idea how ridiculously gorgeous he is?"

His heart skipped a beat as he overheard your words, spoken with a touch of wonder and followed by a dreamy sigh. The corners of his mouth curled into a soft smile, and his cheeks felt warm as he chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly. He had never imagined that you would see him in such a light, let alone voice it aloud. It filled him with pride, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of joy and disbelief that he quickly hid with his newfound confidence as he walked the last steps to approach you.

"Well," he said with a playful smile on his lips, "I wouldn't say ridiculously gorgeous, but I do try my best."

Immediately, your eyes grew wide as you opened your mouth to say something but then closed it again, and he thoroughly enjoyed observing the play of expressions on your face. He felt great, his self-doubt vanished in an instant, it was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a version of himself he had never fully embraced before. With his arms crossed in front of his chest and a smug grin on his face, he watched your every move, every flick of your gaze, every tremble of your finger, the color of your cheeks slightly darker than the rest of your skin, every subtle gesture teased his imagination, fueling his fantasies, like your eyes, big and beautiful, a mix of innocence and surprise in them, he couldn't help but imagine the taste of your lips as you nervously licked over them, those lips, oh, those lips looking as sweet and plump as… he gulped and reminded himself to get it together.

And when you turned around, away from him, without any word, quickly leaving the celebrations, vanishing between the thick leaves of pandora's flora, he kept staring at that place and he smiled, accepting the truth that could not be denied any longer: He was consumed by an insatiable hunger for you, a hunger that only you could satisfy, and he swore to himself, in that exact moment, that he would do anything — no matter the time and costs, even if it meant to put the night sky into chains and conquer all the stars — to make you his, for you were his star, his very personal wishing star.

note: thank you for reading, my loves, please don’t forget to leave feedback (I appreciate any form of it, be it likes, comments, reblogs, or just an anonymous message in my inbox) to let me know you enjoyed this 💕

[drcomttheo]

Mattheo & Tom Riddle x YN

summary: You need to choose between the two...

warnings: smut, angst

words: 727

a/n:

Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML

Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

𝗣𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗺𝗲

The tension in the air was palpable as Mattheo and Tom fired their words back and forth, each trying to assert their claim on your affections.

You felt a pang of frustration, unable to endure the relentless bickering any longer.

The dialogue was beginning to spiral, each word echoing the last, grating on the nerves like a persistent refrain that refused to fade away.

Your gaze shifted between the two of them, a silent tension hanging in the air. "Will you two please shut up? I literally cannot listen to you argue anymore. This is absolutely ridiculous," you declared, stepping closer, your hands falling to your sides in a gesture of exasperation.

"Okay then, choose, right now," Mattheo murmured, his presence drawing nearer, the air thick with unspoken tension. "We need you to pick because we can't do this anymore either."

Your gaze flitted between the two of them, a whirlwind of confusion swirling within you, tinged with a hint of disbelief; they were forcing you to choose, to decide between them in this moment of unexpected tension.

Mattheo or Tom.

"What if I can't pick?" You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you pivoted gracefully, your gaze drifting away into the distance.

Tom approached you, his hands gently resting on your shoulders, a warm spark igniting between you. "You have to pick your Y/N."

The atmosphere crackled with an electric tension, as if the very air around them was charged with unspoken words and lingering glances.

"Mattheo and I can't keep going like this," he said, frustration lacing his voice. "We both want you, and it's tearing us apart. Just tell us who you choose, so we can end this."

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of their gazes upon you, and slowly turned to face them both again, your heart racing with the gravity of the moment.

"I cannot choose; I refuse to choose." You said as your words hung in the air, Mattheo began to press you firmly against the wall, his presence both commanding and greedy.

"Okay, don't pick then. But don't say we didn't warn you."

With a sudden surge of passion, Mattheo's lips met yours in a fervent kiss, his hands guiding you back until you found yourself pressed against the bed.

Tom joined him in his intense gaze as you lay there helpless, both of them looming over you with their intentions crystal clear and electrifying.

Their eyes locked in a shared moment of mischief, a smirk dancing on their lips.

Tom's hands glided up your thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt, while Mattheo tenderly swept aside your (hair color) hair, exposing the delicate curve of your neck.

Mattheos' lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

Your lips parted, allowing soft moans to escape into the air.

"Do you want to be our good girl?" Mattheo asked, a hint of desire lacing his voice.

Your head nodded in acceptance, though your mind raced to grasp the whirlwind of events unfolding around you.

As Tom's hand ventured higher, he uncovered that you wore no bottoms.

"No underwear, darling?" Tom's brow arched in surprise, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he slowly raised his hand, inching it upward with a playful intent.

Mattheo's lips moved from your neck, trailing down your chest, as he began to leave a constellation of marks across your skin.

Tom's dark eyes search yours, a silent question lingering in the air, gauging your readiness for the moment that is about to unfold.

"Yes please." You whispered softly as Tom's tongue glided over your thighs, a wave of euphoria washing over you, while Mattheo's gentle nibbles teased at your breasts.

Tom's tongue danced with a tantalizing rhythm, tracing delicate circles as it ventured higher, teasing your entrance and eliciting a sweet arch of pleasure from your back.

Your eyes danced around and found Mattheos as he was next to you, stripping off his clothes.

His firm length flung forth, striking against his chiseled abdomen.

Fuck, he's hot, you thought, biting your bottom lip in nervousness, your gaze drifting to Tom as you tugged at his hair, lost in the rising tide of sensation.

Your heart raced, a longing deep within you as Mattheo approached, his bare form illuminated by the soft glow around you.

Tom withdrew, and their gazes locked onto you, a spark of mischief performing in their eyes before they swiftly turned you onto your hands and knees.

[jesterscourt-e]

Do You Have to Let it Linger? Part 4

A/N: y’all wanted a twist? (Short chapter the end is near)

CW: substance abuse, angst, yearning, depression, anger issues

SCHLATT POV

“GOD, you can be so STUPID.”

As soon as he said it he froze. He tossed the phone onto the table and put his head in his hands. As he heard the phone hangup from the table he felt like he couldn’t move. His face started to burn as anger rose up in his chest. He looked for the nearest victim to aim this mindless rage at. He picked up a controller and chucked it as hard as he could across the room. He could feel the tightness in his chest rise and tears threaten their way into his eyes. God, he hated that he let himself do that. Why the FUCK did he do that???? Schlatt’s frustration from the week all culminated into this moment. The confusion of why y/n had ignored him for a whole week, racking his brain to remember every little thing he did and said to you at the wedding for some explanation. And all to find out it was because you like him and you think he doesn’t like you back. It made him mad. You couldn’t be further off.

In the beginning of your friendship the flirting had been for fun. He did think you were stunning, but it was all in jest, at first. It slowly grew into a real blooming friendship beyond the clicks and views he genuinely grew fond of you. Your personality, your quirks, and little traits. He would watch to boost numbers, but then he found himself tuning into your streams on his second account to just watch. He found your voice entrancing and the way you moved and danced hypnotizing.

He couldn’t believe that you thought he didn’t feel the same. The fact that you had a “big fat crush” on him was enough to make his heart jump, do a backflip, and fall out of his ass. He was so dumbfounded that you couldn’t see how crazy he is about you.

At first he grappled with his own fear and uncertainty, could he let someone in in this way? Was it worth it? You guys lived so far apart. Not to mention how public it could all get and the bombardment from the fans. He was terrified. As the days turned to a week his fear turned into intense longing and pain. Pain knowing how he had hurt you. He missed your constant communication that he had grown to rely on in a way. He just missed hearing you and seeing you. How your smile lights up rooms and your raw charisma enchants all who watch. He couldn't stop seeing you up there singing at the wedding. And how you smiled at him while laughing and dancing. The memories practically uncorked the bottle themselves. Minimal resistance was found when lifting it to his mouth. Each sip felt easier and easier.

Ted called sometime during the second week while the bottle was half drunk. Interrupting his quiet stalking of your stream.

“Schlatt.”

“What.”

“You gotta tell her man,” Ted pleads. He had been bothering Schlatt to spill his heart since the wedding. Then, even more so after this whole ordeal. It tired and aggravated him.

“No dude.”

“Jared Schlathew,” Schlatt scowled at the nickname as Ted continued, “I know we’ve known each other a while, but I’ve known Y/N longer. I’m going to have to tell her soon man I can’t keep listening to her heart break like this.”

“Ted, I sweartgod, if you tell her you won’t hear from me again. Ever,” he slurred and sipped.

“I don’t understand the big deal!”

Schlatt cuts him off, “I can’t, Ted, I fucking can’t! I already hurt her man, who’s to say I won’t just hurt her further or… I don’t know! I’m no good for her. She deserves someone better. She deserves to get over me…”

Ted sighs, “Schlatt, genuinely, you are one of the most kind hearted individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting-” Schlatt scoffs, “You have a rough exterior, yes, but I’ve seen how she melts your icy shell. I wouldn’t allow you anywhere near Y/N if I didn't think you deserved her, man. But I truly do think you are one of the greatest people I get to call a friend. So please, skip the angst, and get on a plane.”

As he hung up he turned your stream back on. Your presence was much duller than your normal effervescent self. He studied at the screen while you absentmindedly answered the chat.

“Ok, well I have another cover I’ve been working on so,” you sit up with your guitar a little better and begin to play “High and Dry” by Radiohead. Through his drunken haze, Schlatt sat and listened to you sing as if you were speaking directly to him.

“Fuck it.” Schlatt opened his phone and booked a flight.

———

[kevin-the-bruyne]

why I thought the kristsingto dance was offensive

My reaction to the KristSingto dance was, in fact, pure and utter shock with an immediate follow up of "well good for Thailand for being so progressive" and that was what I thought would be the end of my engagement with that performance and yet when I read this post by scarefox with commentary added by thebroccolination and hallowpen (mentioned to give credit untagged because I have social anxiety and forcing people to read my post is my worst nightmare) my mind was filled with thoughts that took me the greater part of the day to sort through and I still don't know if the following will be adequate. Because OH HO HO as it turns out Thailand isn't that progressive which means that this performance was constructed to be like this ON PURPOSE. This post is in conversation with some of the concepts brought up in the linked post so it will be helpful in understanding the direction I've chosen to go with this. But the linked post is a great post and you should read it regardless. There is much to love about the Kristsingto concert and even more to love about their sexy dance - the primary of which is how it makes every single one of my Asian sensibilities ring MAD alarm bells. I'm a diaspora south asian but I moved to the US alone when I was 18 which means I have an intact sense of Asian respectability, regularly replenished by my parents. I MEAN LOOK AT IT - THEY ARE ON A FREAKING BED!!!! SIR THAT IS A BEDROOM ACTIVITY ONLY

But some serious highlights as to what about this performance sets it apart: 1) The performance is focused on sensuality and desire. They're dressed like dancers and not particularly sexy ones. Everything about this performance is pared down to only focus on their movements. The costumes are simple, the bed is simple, the lighting mostly monochrome. There is nothing to see here BUT their desire for each other and the sex they are simulating

2) They are playing to each other and ONLY to each other and not the audience. This is probably THE REASON why it clocks differently from literally every other raunchy performance. They are dancing for EACH OTHER. The performance starts behind a screen, and the sex simulation is the most intense at this stage but then THE SCREEN FALLS but for the purposes of the performance, KristSingto don't even acknowledge it. The audience is THRUST into the position of a voyeur and remains so throughout the performance. Like there is a BED that looks like it came straight out of Krist's bedroom like give me a fucking BREAK sir those are inside house, behind closed doors activities you are engaging with on stage.

Even the parts where Krist or Singto face the audience it is a) never together at once and b) they are mirroring each other's movements highlighting their connection to each other over their individual connection with the audience. There is no hip thrusting, no flirtatious looks, absolutely nothing that would even remotely suggest that they're trying to titillate the audience. All the titillation is directed towards each other. This feeling of looking into a private moment is deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

3) It's KristSingto. So much to be said about this and I have a strong feeling that I am not the person who should be speaking about this. But it's Krist and Singto, highly respected veterans of the industry who don't 'need' to be engaging in these types of 'extreme behaviors' to get ahead. So why would Kristsingto need to 'resort' to these behaviors?

Well, because the purpose of art, and I would argue quite specifically queer art, is to push the boundaries of how society allows the 'self' to behave and express itself. There is a reason why BL has captured the fascination of so many straight women. I would argue this is true everywhere but specifically for Asians, the shackles placed on queer sexuality did not feel so different from the shackles placed on women's sexuality period. Queer sexual liberal *is* sexual liberation and there are a lot of outgroup parties who have a vested, personal interest in pushing this agenda forward. I have to stop before this gets so long that I have to find a university to grant me a masters but 'Fanservice Is Wrong' and 'Fanservice Has Finally Gone Too Far' is just the fan service discourse. But the truth is that Fanservice *IS* radical queer visibility and always has been. I started my fandom journey in JPOP nearly 15 years ago and that was the conversation then [link takes you to a fanservice kiss between Ninomiya Kazunari and Ohno Satoshi from Arashi in 2008 that was 6 years in the making but I digress] and apparently if KristSingto will get to have their way that will be the conversation now. To deny their dance as offensive is to deny the incredible ways in which it's in conversation with the society they're operating in, the risks they are still taking even amidst widespread celebration for the Marriage Equality Bill in Thailand.

KristSingto had totally blown the doors, windows and glass ceilings wide open with SOTUS that I would argue had rippling effects on the BL being produced throughout Asia, not just Thailand. And the pressure of that was SO high, that attention so unexpected and burdensome that neither could actually stay and enjoy that moment. OffGun and TayNew had reaped more fruits from KristSingto's labor than Krist and Singto. KristSingto isn't just another branded pair - they are quite literally BL royalty and they are not here to play games. Except this time they are pushing the envelope with their eyes wide open and I am buzzing to see what's next for them.

[calciumcryptid]

Now that PROJECT JASP.ER is a thing, we deserve an ensemble (AouBoom, JoongDunk, PerthSanta, and PondPhuwin) dance themed Boys Love so here is my general plot proposal for it (obligatory when I refer to the actors names it is simply a placeholder for proper character names):

General Characters

Pond is the son of wealthy and strict parents who joins the resident dance team. He initially does it to rebel against his parents but genuinely falls in love with dance and wants to pursue it as a full career.

Phuwin is an off-the-walls flirty rebellious free-spirit who explores abandoned buildings and does graffiti who practices his art on the side of the dance studio building (and he is dressed genuinely punk).

Boom is Pond's older brother who obeys their parents, and tries to convince Pond to quit. The culmination of his arc is telling their parents to fuck off and let them pursue what they want. Maybe he is a stifled creative in his own right.

Aou is the captain of the dance team who is trying to restore it to its former greatness, so he is an enthusiastic mentor to Pond. He should be both compassionate and serious.

Joong is a "mysterious brooding loner" street dancer who is actually a huge dork which is gradually revealed throughout the show.

Dunk is a DJ and music student who the team recruits to find the best music to dance to, but Dunk has an assignment where he has to create a song people can dance to (he needs to be really intense about music to the point people think he is a snob).

Santa is already a member of the dance team, but his passion has kind of fizzled out.

Perth is the manager of the rival team, who is trying to get Santa to defect to his team.

For shits and giggles, the rival team should be played by LYKN. No other reason than shits and giggles (maybe even throw in Est as the manager of the main dance team), and the two dance team names should be very bad parodies of their real life group names (like, I'm just spitballing, Plan Tige.reye and OBPM).

General Romance Plot Ideas:

Pond catches Phuwin practicing his graffiti on the side of the dance studio and tries to get him to stop, until Aou catches them mid-scuffle and tells Pond Phuwin is allowed to practice there. Phuwin says Pond isn't fun, and if he ever wants to be fun he should call him. Seeing Phuwin as a way to piss his parents off more, Pond takes up the offer and Phuwin is very flirty as they go on a lot of vaguely illegal dates. At the big end of the series competition, Phuwin could be the one who makes their costumes.

Boom tracks down Pond and tells him to stop but Pond refuses, so Boom turns to their captain Aou and threatens him to let Pond go. Aou decides Boom believes that because he never experienced dance himself, and is determined to prove otherwise. Aou gives Boom the confidence to stand up to his parents, and leaves to support Pond and Aou at the big ending dance competition. (I don't know if there is enough crossover to understand this, but if you are familiar with School of Rock and the dynamic between Dewey Finn and Rosalie Mullins that is the sort of vibe I am going for.)

For an assignment, Dunk has to create a song people can dance to, so with Joong having nothing to do he recruits Joong to help him out. They try to play it cool to each other before they both reveal their dorky side, which leads to a very fun and goofy dance number. Dunk gets an A on his assignment. I imagine they would be the first couple to truly get together.

Santa's passion is fizzled out and Perth thinks his talent is being wasted so he tries to recruit him to his own dance team, except they fall in love and have a big falling out when Santa learns the reason Perth approached him in the first place (where it is revealed Santa had a crush on Perth for years and thought Perth was genuinely interest back) and Perth is all teary eyed because he loves Santa.

No Clothes Scene Proposals:

PondPhuwin in an abandoned building (bonus points if they do it against very artistic graffiti).

JoongDunk in a recording studio.

PerthSanta in a dance studio (mirrors and all).

AouBoom in Boom's parents' office.

Regardless, lots of dances where one party is seducing the other. It would be sexy.

Bonus: A lot of cameos from other GMMTV artists where they play other dance teams or creatives.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little ramble. I'm open to any suggestions, alternatives, or expansions to the ideas presented. I tried to give them all something different than what they usually play because I believe in letting actors showcase full ranges.

[cosmicbolognesa]

"The Last Night" || Ascended Astarion and Tav || English & Spanish version

|| A narrative about Tav's last night before their conversion. Beware! I enjoy writing about Ascended Astarion with possessive and toxic undertones. There is no love here. ||

The moonlight streamed through the bedroom windows, bathing her bare skin in silvery tones. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by flickering candles swaying with the air thickened by desire and a certain tension. Astarion, reclined beside her, was a monument of beauty and danger. His crimson gaze glowed with an intensity that pierced the soul, as if every second spent together was meticulously calculated, as though everything had been perfectly orchestrated by him.

"My brightest star, my most treasured possession," he murmured, his voice soft and low. His pale fingers traced invisible lines along her arm, climbing to her neck. There, they lingered, his nails barely grazing her skin. "Every part of you... tonight belongs to me. Naturally, it has for some time now, but this is a particularly special occasion, isn't it?"

She held his gaze, caught between the magnetism he exuded and the weight of the decision she had made earlier. There was something about him, a kind of dark allure, that called to her like a siren's song. And she, fully aware of the danger, had surrendered to it moons ago.

The vampire leaned closer, his lips just brushing hers, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down her spine. When he finally kissed her, it was with the depth of someone seeking to devour, to consume, to mark. His lips were cold, but the fire they ignited within her felt like it might scorch her.

His hands began exploring her with a mixture of delicacy and possession, gliding over her back, down her hips, as though he sought to memorize every curve, every contour. His fingers danced across her skin like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. It wasn’t the first time they had been together, but it felt that way. At least to her.

"Do you fear me?" he whispered against her ear, his cold breath contrasting with the heat he had stirred within her body. She shook her head, unable to speak, her breathing ragged as he led her into an abyss of pleasure and confusion. She could focus on nothing beyond the hungry kisses, the touches and caresses that left trails of fire wherever he grazed.

"Good," he replied, with a smile that blended tenderness and something much darker. "Because there’s nothing to fear... as long as you stay with me, of course," he added in a voice so soft she almost thought she had imagined it.

As always, Astarion moved with a confidence that bordered on theatrical, like an actor performing his role to perfection. His mouth explored every inch of her skin, leaving trails of kisses and light bites that set her body ablaze. Every touch seemed designed to map a path of pleasure across her, bringing her to the edge but never allowing her to fall completely. Not yet.

His movements grew more intense, his body pressing against hers with the surety of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. Astarion wasn’t merely touching her; he was claiming her. Every brush of his body against hers was a silent reminder of his dominance. When he finally made her his, it was with a passion that overflowed with both ferocity and a dark purpose that extended beyond mere carnal pleasure. His rhythm was calculated, oscillating between gentleness and ferocity, each thrust more intense than the last, his nails digging into her wrists, his mouth silencing any sound she might have made, bringing her to the brink again and again only to pull back and prolong the moment.

"You are perfect," he murmured, his voice tinged with a reverence that seemed genuine but carried an obsessive undertone, like someone polishing their favorite trophy over and over, admiring it. "Perfect for me."

His hands entwined with hers, pinning her as he leaned in to look directly into her eyes. His movements slowed, became deeper, and in that moment, she felt the world narrow down to just the two of them, to this act that felt like more than physical connection. It was too strong, too intense...

But even at the height of their intimacy, there was something in his gaze, a flicker that betrayed his true intentions. Because as Astarion gave himself to her, he was also shaping her, marking her as his—not just in body, but in spirit.

When they reached the climax together, she was certain something inside her broke and rebuilt itself all at once. But the moment didn’t end there. Astarion held her in his arms, his cold skin a relief against the heat still coursing through her body.

He murmured her name, caressing her face with a tenderness that seemed almost devout. "What we shared tonight is more than mere passion. It’s a bond, a vow... something eternal."

Before she could respond, she felt the brush of his lips against her neck. The kiss turned into a bite, a sharp pain that quickly gave way to overwhelming ecstasy. Astarion drank from her with an intensity that left her trembling, her body giving way as he held her firmly. For a brief moment, she seemed to surface from the haze, her heart pounding erratically. The vampire seemed to notice, for he sank his fangs deeper, his arms tightening around her, refusing to let go until she surrendered once more. She wanted to protest, but she was too weak, too lost in the haze he had created.

As the candlelight dimmed, a solitary tear slid down her cheek, though she couldn’t tell if it was from love or fear.

When he finally pulled away, his mouth was stained with her blood, his eyes glowing with a sated hunger.

"Now, my little love, rest," he whispered, carefully letting a single drop of his own blood fall into her parted lips. "You will be reborn. And you will be mine, forever."

The night continued, and as she lay spent in his arms, Astarion watched her with a mixture of tenderness and triumph. His affection for her seemed real, but so was his desire to control her, to turn her into something that could never escape him. And though his little fledgling didn’t know it yet, that night would mark the beginning of an eternity shared... on his terms. As the moonlight continued to filter through the window, he remained by her side, caressing her with gestures so gentle they contradicted the coldness in his gaze. For while on the surface it seemed like love, every word, every touch was a chain binding her more deeply to him, ensuring she could never break free.

SPANISH VERSION

La luz de la luna se colaba por las ventanas del dormitorio, iluminando la piel desnuda de ella con tonos plateados. Las sombras bailaban en las paredes, proyectadas por las velas encendidas que oscilaban al ritmo del aire cargado de deseo y cierta tensión. Astarion, reclinado a su lado, era un monumento de belleza y peligro. Su mirada carmesí brillaba con una intensidad que atravesaba el alma, como si cada segundo que pasaban juntos estuviera calculado con precisión, como si todo hubiese sido montado a la perfección, por él.

—Mi estrella más brillante, mi tesoro más preciado—susurró, la voz suave y baja. Sus dedos pálidos trazaron líneas invisibles por su brazo, subiendo hasta su cuello. Allí se detuvieron, sus uñas apenas rozando la piel—. Cada parte de ti... esta noche me pertenece. Naturalmente, lo ha hecho desde hace un tiempo, pero esta es una ocasión sumamente especial ¿verdad? —.

La contraria sostuvo su mirada, atrapada entre el magnetismo que él ejercía y el peso de la decisión que había tomado antes. Había algo en él, una especie de oscura atracción, que la llamaba como el canto de una sirena. Y ella, consciente del peligro, se había rendido lunas atrás.

El vampiro inclinó su rostro hacia el suyo, sus labios apenas rozándola, un toque ligero que envió un escalofrío por su columna. Cuando finalmente la besó, lo hizo con la profundidad de alguien que buscaba devorar, consumir, marcar. Sus labios eran fríos, pero el ardor que encendían en ella parecía quemarle.

Sus manos comenzaron a explorarla con una mezcla de delicadeza y posesión, deslizándose por su espalda, bajando por sus caderas, como si intentara memorizar cada curva, cada contorno. Sus dedos danzaron sobre su piel como si ella fuera un instrumento que sólo él sabía tocar. No era la primera vez que estaban juntos, pero así se sentía. Al menos para ella.

— ¿Me temes? —preguntó en un susurro, contra su oído, el aliento frío contrastando con el calor que él mismo había despertado en su cuerpo. Ella negó con la cabeza, incapaz de hablar, su respiración entrecortada mientras él la conducía a un abismo de placer y confusión. No podía concentrarse en nada más allá de los besos hambrientos, las caricias y roces que parecían dejar un rastro de fuego ahí donde él tocaba.

—Bien —respondió él, con una sonrisa que mezclaba ternura y algo mucho más oscuro—. Porque no tienes nada que temer... siempre y cuando sigas conmigo, por supuesto— agregó en voz tan baja, que ella creyó, por un momento, haberlo imaginado.

Como de costumbre, Astarion se movía con una confianza que rozaba lo teatral, como un actor interpretando su papel a la perfección. Su boca recorrió cada rincón de su piel, dejando rastros de besos y mordiscos ligeros que encendían su cuerpo como un fuego abrasador. Cada caricia parecía diseñada para dibujar un mapa de placer en su piel, llevándola al borde, pero nunca permitiéndole caer del todo. No aún.

Sus movimientos se intensificaron, su cuerpo presionando el de ella con la firmeza de alguien que sabía exactamente lo que quería. Astarion no sólo la tocaba; la reclamaba, cada roce de su cuerpo contra el de ella un recordatorio silencioso de su dominio. Cuando finalmente la hizo suya, lo hizo con una intensidad que desbordaba tanto pasión como un oscuro propósito más allá del placer carnal. El ritmo que marcaba era calculado, fluctuando entre la dulzura y la ferocidad, embestidas cada vez más intensas, sus uñas clavándose en las muñecas contrarias y su boca ahogando cualquier sonido que pudiera salir de los labios contrarios, llevándola a la cima una y otra vez sólo para detenerse y prolongar el momento.

—Eres perfecta —murmuró, su voz teñida de una reverencia que parecía sincera, pero escondía un matiz obsesivo, como alguien que pule su trofeo preferido una y otra vez, contemplándolo—. Perfecta para mí.

Sus manos se entrelazaron con las de ella, inmovilizándola mientras se inclinaba para mirarla directamente a los ojos. Sus movimientos se volvieron más lentos, más profundos, y en ese momento, ella sintió que el mundo se reducía a ellos dos, a ese acto que parecía algo más que sólo contacto físico. Era demasiado fuerte, intenso...

Pero incluso en la cúspide de su intimidad, había algo en su mirada, una pequeña chispa que traicionaba sus verdaderas intenciones. Porque mientras Astarion se entregaba a ella, también la estaba moldeando, marcándola como suya no sólo en cuerpo, sino en espíritu.

Cuando ambos alcanzaron juntos el clímax, ella estuvo segura que algo en su interior se rompía y se reconstruía al mismo tiempo. Pero el momento no terminó ahí. Astarion la sostuvo entre sus brazos, su piel fría un alivio contra el calor que aún palpitaba en su cuerpo.

Él murmuró su nombre, acariciando su rostro con un cuidado que parecía casi devoto—, lo que compartimos esta noche es más que simple pasión. Es un lazo, un juramento... algo eterno—.

Antes de que pudiera responder, sintió el roce de sus labios en su cuello. El beso se transformó en un mordisco, un dolor agudo que rápidamente dio paso a una sensación de éxtasis abrumador. Astarion bebió de ella con una intensidad que la dejó temblando, su cuerpo cediendo mientras él la sostenía con fuerza. Hubo un momento donde ella pareció emerger de aquella especie de bruma, y su corazón latió con fuerza, vacilante. El vampiro pareció notarlo, porque hundió los colmillos aún más y sus brazos la rodearon con mayor firmeza, negándose a ceder hasta que ella pareció volver a ceder. Ella quiso protestar, pero estaba demasiado débil, demasiado perdida en la bruma que él había creado. Y mientras la luz de las velas se apagaba, una lágrima solitaria resbaló por su mejilla, aunque no supo decir si era de amor o de miedo.

Cuando finalmente se apartó, su boca estaba manchada de su sangre, sus ojos brillando con un hambre satisfecha.

—Ahora, pequeño amor mío, descansa —susurró, vertiendo con delicadeza una sola gota de su propia sangre en la boca ajena—. Renacerás. Y serás mía, para siempre—.

La noche continuó, y mientras ella yacía agotada en sus brazos, Astarion la observó con una mezcla de ternura y triunfo. Su cariño por ella parecía real, pero también lo era su deseo de controlarla, de convertirla en algo que nunca pudiera escapar de él. Y aunque su pequeña y nueva engendro no lo sabía aún, esa noche marcaría el comienzo de una eternidad compartida... a su manera. Mientras la luna continuaba filtrando su luz plateada a través del ventanal, el permaneció a su lado, acariciándola con gestos suaves que contradecían la frialdad de su mirada. Porque, aunque en la superficie parecía amor, cada palabra, cada toque, era una cadena que la ataba más profundamente a él, asegurándose de que nunca pudiera escapar. 

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 24th

Sex Toys, Cumulus x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1k.

Warnings: Sex toys; sapphic; thigh riding; multiple orgasms; nipple play; thigh spanking; ngl, I struggled with this one. I wanted it to be better than it was but the Aurora fic kinda meant that nothing else would live up to it lmao;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Amidst the tranquil stillness of a moonlit night, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, as if the world itself held its breath in eager anticipation of what was to come. You were wrapped up in Cumulus’ arms, soft bodies pressed together and connected at your lips, where your tongues danced together. Both of you were completely void of clothing, and thighs pressed up against each other’s most sensitive places, hips moving and seeking as much pleasure as possible. The sound of your gasps and moans were the only noises that could be heard in the stillness of the room. Just two people desperately trying to reach an end by any means necessary.

As your clit continued to rub against Cumulus’ thigh, you allowed your hands and lips to wander over her body, pinching and playing with her nipples as your tongue laved over her neck. Her own hand had moved down to your thigh and pulled on it, tugging you ever closer to her centre in order for her to get as much pleasure from your body as she possibly could. The longer she rubbed against you, the wetter your thigh became, but you felt like you could drown in that feeling - knowing that it was you providing her with everything she needed to cum.

She came first - her face and body contorting with the feeling of the powerful orgasm washing over her. Her hips moved faster in a desperate effort to add to the intensity and her fingernails dug into your skin purely because she didn’t know what else to do. You soon followed her, your own body reacting in a similar manner and rubbing against her thigh needily prolonging the orgasm you were experiencing, her sweet, melodic voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear with breathless words as she was coming down from her own high. Her body, despite her orgasm being strong enough to make her eyes close in exhaustion, continued to move against you, silently begging for a second release.

“Can I get it?” She asked you, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please.” You answered, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

If you both spent the rest of the night humping against each other like animals, you’d never stop and work yourselves into oversensitivity. Thus, she pulled away from you temporarily, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out the only item you both favourited and frequently used: your wand vibrator. As soon as it was plugged into the wall, she moved back to her original position, placing your thigh back over the top of her and returning to that lazy, sideways missionary position you’d both been in before. The vibrator was placed between the pair of you, adjusting it so it sat between both of your clits before she turned it on.

Even at its lowest intensity it was incredibly powerful, both of your mouths falling open in pleasure at the low rumble now vibrating through your entire body. You both rubbed against it, the pressure from her movements pushing the vibrator harder against your clit and vice versa. “Oh fuck.” You moaned loudly, the pleasure proving too much for gentle whispers. Your body needed to expel that energy somehow, and your voice was the only way it could.

“Oh, just like that.” Cumulus’ voice was just as strained as yours, oozing with unbridled bliss.

Your body pushed you upwards, the need to move your hips faster too great for the position you were in. You sat up on your knees, still with your clit connected to the vibrator and began to rub against it, your hips moving at a much faster pace, which, in turn, kept the vibrator bouncing off Cumulus and made her noises increase in volume.

“Fucking just like that!” She exclaimed, hand coming to pull at your thigh once again for purchase.

Cumulus always loved it when you rode her. She got to lie back against the pillows and watch you take what you needed, see your body move as it bounced against her own. She loved watching your hands roam over your breasts, pinching and pulling your nipples for extra stimulation. You were truly a sight to behold when you were on top.

You, on the other hand, got to watch her body as it moved with the force of your thrusts, the way her breasts jiggled with each movement of your hips. The way her bottom lip would tuck up between her teeth and her eyebrows would furrow. The way her blown-out pupils would roam over your body, focussing on your pleasure points and screaming each time the vibrator slipped over a particularly sensitive spot on her clit.

The hand that was clutching onto your thigh slapped against the flesh, gently at first, but knowing that you liked it to hurt a little bit she slapped a little harder each time, rubbing at the redness between each it.

“Faster, baby, please.” You begged as you bent over her body and placed a desperate kiss to her lips.

She obliged, kicking the vibrator up a notch. Her eyes widened at the increase of intensity, and her back arched. You could tell by the way her body had begun to spasm that she was about to cum again And if you were being honest, you were close as well.

It took maybe two or three more thrusts against the vibrator before you were doubling over, head resting between the valley of Cumulus’ breasts as you came for a second time that night, mouth open in a silent scream as your hole clenched tightly around nothing. Cumulus came at the same time as you, her fingernails digging into your shoulders and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, mind wiped completely blank as all she could think about was how good you’d made her feel.

She practically threw the vibrator away from you both from the oversensitivity, and once again you found yourself wrapped up in her arms as you both lay there in bed, breathless and dozing off into a peaceful sleep.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[rose24207]

Copacabana

Summary: A stunning performance on Let’s Dance sees you and Lando sharing an undeniable chemistry as you dance to Copacabana, captivating the audience with your graceful moves, bold connection, and breathtaking energy, leaving everyone in awe of your magical partnership.

Genre: Dancer!Lando, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: I love this Song! I‘m really excited to see how you think of this! Please let me know if I should do more of !Lando‘s. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The lights suddenly blaze to life, washing over you in a golden glow. The studio is humming with anticipation, every person on the edge of their seat, waiting for the magic to unfold.

You can feel the weight of the moment settle over you like a thick, electric current. The air is alive with energy, and the audience is holding its collective breath.

The set before you is a vibrant tropical paradise—artificial palms swaying, neon signs flashing bright colors, evoking the lively atmosphere of the Copacabana nightclub.

The unmistakable rhythm of Copacabana fills the room, its iconic melody flooding your senses and immediately pulling you into the world it creates.

The crowd's excitement swells, and you feel it surge within you, building with each passing second.

But none of that matters in this moment because your attention is fixed on him.

Lando.

Standing beside you, poised, confident, yet there’s something about him tonight that feels different.

His gaze, intense and unwavering, is locked onto you. The world around you disappears as the connection between you two becomes undeniable.

You know the dance will be beautiful. But with him, it feels like something more.

Your dress tonight is something out of a dream. It’s a shimmering see-through creation that flows around you with the grace of a bird in flight. The feathers catch the light with every movement, a delicate yet captivating halo around you. It clings to your curves in all the right places, while still allowing every twist and turn to be an expression of freedom.

You feel like you could disappear into the fabric itself, but the world is too enamored with you to look away. Your skin is radiant, glowing under the spotlight, your hair hanging freely on you shoulders.

You can hear the appreciative gasps from the crowd, but there’s only one person you’re dancing for tonight.

Lando’s hand reaches out for you. His touch is electric, the moment your fingers meet his, you feel it—a spark.

A pull.

There’s no question that this dance is yours, that the connection between you is deeper than any choreography.

As the first notes of Copacabana ring out, you both move as though it’s written in your very souls.

The music starts slow, a gentle, inviting rhythm, and you sway together.

The world falls away.

There’s only him.

There’s only you.

His movements are smooth, confident, guiding you into each step with the precision of someone who has danced his entire life.

And you follow.

Effortlessly.

You are weightless in his arms, each movement flowing from one to the next like a river that can’t be stopped. You are perfectly in sync, a harmony that feels destined.

Then the tempo picks up, the beat quickens, and so do your movements. The Cha Cha pulses through you both, and you can feel the energy shift.

Lando’s feet are swift, sure, leading you with such expert precision that you can’t help but smile. He twirls you out, your body spinning in the air, the feathers of your dress fluttering like a thousand delicate birds, catching the light with each twist. You land with perfect grace back in his arms, your bodies close, your heart racing with the exhilaration of it all.

Every movement feels like a conversation between you.

Each step, each glance, each touch, says everything. He’s not just your partner in this dance—he’s a reflection of you, and you of him. When your eyes meet, the chemistry between you is undeniable.

You both laugh, a playful sound that fills the space between you and the audience, and you’re filled with the rush of being seen, of being alive in this moment.

The audience feels it, too.

Their cheers rise, the applause a constant background to the music. But even in the spotlight, surrounded by a room full of people, it’s just you and Lando—moving, breathing, creating something magical together.

His hand is firm on your waist as you move into a difficult spin, your body effortlessly twirling in mid-air before landing back into his grasp.

The contact between you is electric, his fingers holding you just the right amount of pressure to remind you he’s always there.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, feel the unspoken connection that runs deeper than the music itself.

You spin again, your movements bold, the rhythm quickening, and as you whirl away from him, the dress catches the light in a thousand different ways.

It’s as if the world can’t help but follow your every movement, each beat making your body feel more alive.

You’ve danced before, but nothing like this.

There’s no doubt in your mind—the connection you share with him transcends just the steps of the dance.

It’s an understanding.

A bond.

A promise.

As the song nears its end, your movements become even more daring. You glide through the steps, feeling the thrill of it, the rush of excitement.

He spins you one last time, your body lifting in a perfect arc, the feathers of your dress soaring around you like the wings of an angel.

The music fades into its final, powerful beat, and you land in his arms again, both of you breathless, hearts pounding, bodies still pressed together in the aftershock of the performance.

For a moment, time seems to stop.

The audience is silent.

Then, in an eruption of sound, they cheer, clap, and shout their admiration. Their excitement is a wave crashing against the shore, and you and Lando stand together in the center of it, both of you breathless, faces flushed, heartbeats racing.

The applause is deafening, but you can’t pull your eyes away from him. There’s something in his gaze—something that goes beyond the performance, beyond the applause. It’s like a secret only the two of you share.

The judges stand to their feet, their applause joining that of the crowd.

The first judge smiles brightly, her voice filled with awe. “What we saw tonight wasn’t just a performance—it was a story told through movement. The chemistry between you two… it’s undeniable. You are both truly in tune with each other. It’s magnificent.”

The second judge nods enthusiastically. “The way you moved, the connection between you—it was like nothing we’ve ever seen. You brought the song to life in a way that left us all breathless. It’s an incredible performance.”

The third judge adds, “And let’s talk about the aesthetics. [Y/N], you were breathtaking tonight. The way your dress moved, the way you danced—it was as if you were one with the music.”

The words wash over you like a dream, but you don’t hear them. You’re still caught in the afterglow of the dance, of the heat between you and Lando.

He turns to you, his hand still resting on your waist, and his smile is all admiration, all pride.

The host approaches, his voice breaking through the moment as he addresses you both, the microphone a bridge between you and the world.

“That was something special,” he says, his eyes wide with amazement. “Lando, [Y/N], how does it feel to share such an undeniable connection on stage?”

You take a moment to catch your breath, the energy still buzzing in your veins. “It feels...” you begin, your voice soft but filled with the truth of the moment. “It feels like we’re exactly where we’re meant to be. We just... flow together. The music, the dance—it all comes so naturally with Lando.”

Lando smiles, a slow, knowing grin as his eyes meet yours. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “There’s something magical that happens when we dance together. It’s more than just the steps. It’s the way we connect. It’s electric.”

The host turns back to the audience, grinning. “Well, there you have it, folks. A performance that has set the bar impossibly high. Let’s hear it one more time for Lando and [Y/N]!”

The applause once again shakes the room, echoing through the studio, but you’re still caught in the look Lando gives you.

It’s more than just a performance.

It’s something deeper.

Something that will stay with you long after the stage lights have dimmed.

As you exit the stage, your hand still in his, you feel that pulse between you—the one that says this is just the beginning.

Thank you for reading!

[geistundmaterie]

Phenomenology of Mammon

Either what I’m about to write doesn’t make any sense and I’m slowly spiralling down into a state of madness, or I have managed to see the true essence of Mammon.

When one is fascinated by a certain character, it does not happen by a mere accident. Your unconsciousness responses to the seen images with different intensity, some things appearing especially meaningful to you. This text is not an analysis of the obvious allegories that were put into Mammon’s concept. Instead, I attempt to explain why his design and everything related to him “goes hard” and fascinates many at an irrational level.

Clowns and the Transcendence

Mammon is a clown and this fact is meaningful in itself. In human cultures across the globes, the universal transcendental reality is broken down into various local forms. Thus, "truth is one, the sages speak of it by many names". In other words, material reality consisting of concepts and forms is finite. By relying solely on it, one loses some of the possibilities that exist beyond the rational association with the world.

A symbol gives access to the deeper layers of existence which are otherwise inaccessible. For example, the rationally incomprehensible can nevertheless remain expressible in the artistic image. A clown, in turn, is the ultimate symbol of the symbolic expression in itself, as seen in its performances or playing of a role. It is an articulation of a desire to escape the human cerebral way of thinking. Clown’s intuitive trickster nature allows it to access the realm of existence that go being the conventional categories of reason. It exemplifies how a wordless intuitive artistic expression can compensate for the deficiencies of a language. Clowns playfully engage with the reality and lure us into a region of the spirit beyond any material or societal creeds. Thanks to their silly form, clown embodies a statement that point beyond themselves into the realm of everything instinctive and irrational.

In a letter to comedian George Carlin, Byrd Gibbens, a professor of English at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, wrote about the significance of the trickster in indigenous myths:

Many native traditions held clowns and tricksters as essential to any contact with the sacred. People could not pray until they had laughed, because laughter opens and frees from rigid preconception. Humans had to have tricksters within the most sacred ceremonies lest they forget the sacred comes through upset, reversal, surprise. The trickster in most native traditions is essential to creation, to birth.

Balancing between Chaos and Order

The Helluva Boss’ merch of Mammon depicts him in a dynamic and balancing pose. Any good clown is always balancing between chaos and order, not falling into the extremes of both.

One thing those depictions of Mammon instantly remind me of is the World tarot card. It usually represents the archetype of completion, achievement, fulfilment, sense of belonging, wholeness, harmony. This card has a dancing figure at the centre. The figure is constantly in motion, but it moves harmoniously, calmly balancing between opposites. Its expression of unity and fulfilment is eternal yet dynamic rather than simply static. One feels the cosmic rhythm and participates in it. There are four figures on each corner of the tarot card, representative of the four corners of the universe, the four elements, and the four evangelicals. Together, they symbolize the harmony between all of their energies. And all of them are is the dancer’s control. Mammon, in return, has four hands.

In fact, it is not a mere coincidence that The Fool and The World tarot cards both have a dynamic yet balancing figure at their centre: this state is the beginning and the end of all being, starting with unconscious wholeness and moving to its conscious experience. The clown is the perfect synthesis of Apollonian and Dionysian drives: it is a whim that has gained form and purpose. A repressive (Apollonian) society needs a mediator between it and a Dionysian element, a safety valve through which one can give a symbolic satisfaction to the antisocial tendencies. Without the latter, human life is misbalanced. One must experience what Friedrich Schiller called the play drive. It unites the infinite and the finite, instinct and reason, and life and form in the human experience. In order for the play drive to effectively mediate between the body and the mind, humans must develop passivity, practise intuition, and open up to the universe. They also need to practise using reason and active stance towards the world. When both are accomplished, a person can experiences a balance between two polar opposites of being at once; they feel themselves as ever-changing matter and come to know themselves as an eternal mind.

Artistic expression results from the balance and union of two opposed principles of rational and irrational. By being like a clown and engaging with life in a playful, symbolic way, you transcend yourself and become fully human.

Taken from the Shark Robot merch store, Twitter: zllm6

Spider Web and Mandala

Mammon is a spider demon. His territory is packed with spider web visuals, including “the lounge” he sits at during the performances. Spider webs are an unconscious but a meaningful creative phenomena, a beauty that is produced by an instinct. They also bear a striking resemblance to mandalas.

Mandala can be found in all the ancient cultures and is a symbol of life’s innate interconnection and of the Self, a unification of the conscious and unconscious life of the individual. In terms of one’s inner world, it represents the inherent order of the soul in centre of which resides the God itself. A centre that unites all polarities and contains the essence of all that emanates from it. There is no linear evolution; there is only a circumambulation of the Self.

In the mythology of many Native American cultures, an important figure called Spider Grandmother (Hopi Kokyangwuti, Navajo Na'ashjé'ii Asdzáá) can be found. She has a central role in the creation myth as the Creator who spun the “Web of Physical Life”. It is upon the strands of this web that all life is interconnected, with each creature being a vital and integral strand in the cosmic web.

Hence, a spider web can be viewed as a symbol of the organised cosmos and primal source of everything.

Unio Oppositorum

Mammon at his core is a union of opposites. To begin with, he unites the classical dichotomy of matter and spirit in himself. He has animal features and is still a spiritual being. His concept as an “animal deity” also corresponds to the ancient tradition of depicting beings with a divine status as animal-like: Egyptian pantheon of Gods, some Babylonian Gods, three animals following the Evangelists, and so on. Even the Christ was attributed with animal features, being called “a lamb of God”, “a fish”, or being depicted as a snake on a cross. Both, the instinct and the spirit, belong to the wholeness of the cosmos.

Mammon encompasses numerous other opposites within himself: he’s both goofy and dangerous, he’s a “baby” or “a manchild” to some and a sugar daddy to others, he’s lazy and extremely energetic at the same time, he’s fat yet very agile and has a very good body coordination, he has teeth and claws yet reminds you of a teddy bear, he’s both the performer and the manager, he’s both “a rock star” and an traditional artist, he’ll take from you but also give you what you want, his theme music is a combination of a classical circus jingle, a tune from “Carmen” and electric guitar rizz. Despite all the opposites at hand, everything feels natural and balanced in Mammon.

Even Mammon’s black-and-white stripes in his full-demon form indicate the consciousness of the opposites in him: he is not just light or not just dark; he is a combination of the two. This detail of his appearance reminds me of Koshare Pueblo Clowns (sometimes called Sacred Clowns).

For the same reason Mammon’s dualistic patterns on his clothes are extremely fitting and symbolic.

The Double, the Trinity and the Quaternity

“One becomes two, two becomes three, and out of the third comes the one as the fourth.” Carl Jung, C.W. Vol. 12: Psychology and Alchemy

Mammon has two Fizzbots sitting beside him. Folk cosmologies commonly feature twins, who are typically engaged in an unending battle with each other. Reality consists of a multiplicity of things: the division into two was necessary in order to bring the ‘one’ world out of the state of potentiality into reality. Dualities coexist in an undifferentiated manner in their natural state. However, the tension between the opposites grows stronger as consciousness awakens. An irrational third, the transcendent function, manifests from this conflict and unites them.

The fact that the Twin Fizzbots look gender ambiguous is meaningful: they are in unison and transcend the sexual duality, with “the transcendent function” being Mammon’s wish to make them androgynous. For the same reason it is very symbolic that in the storyboard, Mammon had two groupies of opposite genders sitting beside him: it is a “the divine pair” of complementary opposites united through Mammon’s equal attraction to them.

In alchemy, a lot is revolved around the “Mystery of Coniuctio” (of the Conjunction, the Marriage of the Opposites). The conjunctio requires a medium for its realization. The fruit of this union is the “Philosopher’s Son”, the Mercurius. He is a trickster entity that balances between two opposites, and is the base and the end of all being, an integration of light and dark, good and bad. This alchemistical process expresses itself in a trinity, tria prima, related to the law of the triangle. The law of the triangle is natural law formed from the union of two opposite but complementary equal halves to produce a perfect manifestation. Consequentially, the Twin Fizzbots (having complementary outfits with patterns on opposite sides!) are joined in Mammon, with them forming a trinity together.

Mammon has four arms. Four is a culturally meaningful number and an omnipresent symbol of the cosmic balance, as expressed in four cardinal direction, the four "Holy Creatures" that bear the Divine Chariot, four seasons of the years, fours functions of the consciousness, etc. Quaternity represents wholeness and universality. Several Hindu deities are often portrayed with four arms. The iconography of four arms symbolises divinity and power, as well as dominion over the four quarters of the universe.

The Rhombus

Mammon’s current costume includes many rhombuses: a shape consisting of two triangles, one downward and one upward pointed, joined together. This geometric symbol represents the unification of low aspects with the upper. Because rhombus contains vertical and horizontal directions simultaneously, it expresses the concept of Unus Mundus that unites matter and spirit instead of treating them as two polar opposites that exclude each other. In other words, it’s a symbol of the Hermetic universal principle: "as above, so below; as below, so above", which is rooted in the ancient Egyptian mysticism and Hellenistic philosophy. According to it, the immortal and eternal realm of the inner world corresponds to the physical and mortal reality of the outer world that we all experience. With that, Mammon displays yet another symbol of a union of opposites.

The Value of Money

Mammon represents the sin of Greed in a physical embodiment. There is nothing he loves more than money, all his endeavours dedicated to making more and more of it. He desires the ultima ratio of all things worldly.

Aside from its economic function, money can be used as a driving force behind action, a benchmark of success or status, a means of expressing one's own value, a tool for exerting control over others, a means of achieving happiness, a solution to problems, a means of defining one's own worth, and a source of security. It is not inherently wicked.

Money also symbolises a storage of concentrated potential energy for later use, it links us to the material world. Soul needs money so it doesn’t fly off into some distant psychic reality. “Laying up treasures in Heaven, where moths and rust can not consume them” leads to disassociation from the material existence, condemning it to a degree it does not deserve. Before your physical death, you are forced to play by the rules of the world that put value on success and material gains. In Jungian school of thought, the first half of human life is dedicated to adapting to the outer world, planting your feet firmly on the ground and accustoming oneself to the conditions imposed on you, learning how to use the material restrictions to one’s advantage. It’s all about the expansion of life and conquering the environment you are inhabiting, which includes learning how to secure yourself and improve your life conditions by earning money.

Mammon is also the supreme patron of money. A demon who can help in accumulating wealth and attracting financial prosperity. So, next time you look at a Mammon standee on you shelf, think about that: could it be that you are creating a little altar to attract his favor? Maybe, on an unconscious level, you seek his blessing in terms of fortune, prosperity, and abundance? Could it be that Mammon keychain on your backpack is a magical charm you feel supported by in your earthly endeavors?

Taken from the Shark Robot merch store, Twitter: kstoooone

Colour Psychology

What are the positive features one could instinctually associate with Mammon’s colours?

In colour psychology, green represent health, life, and prosperity. Being a dominant colour in nature, green is associated with vitality, harmony, and growth. It is a harmonizing, balancing and calming shade. Green is also associated with luck: the Irish believe the wearing of the green brings fortune.

The gold colour is the colour of wealth, achievement, and triumph. Golden colour adds richness and warmth to everything that it comes in contact with. It illuminates and enhances other things around it. It is optimistic and positive, as well as being synonymous with divinity, wisdom and power in many religious settings. It inspires knowledge, spirituality, and a deep understanding of ourselves and our souls. For the alchemist, gold represented the source and end of all being, and the perfection of matter on any level, including that of the mind, spirit, and soul (the famous “Philosopher's Stone”).

Sometimes, purple colour can be seen in things associated with Mammon (his advertisement for Fizzbots, the interior of his concert building, etc.). Purple, green and gold are Mardi Gras colours.

Mammon’s merchandise usually feature lime green, a hue mixture of yellow and green. Lime green is a bright, electric colour full of vibrancy and energy. It is a colour closely associated with confidence, and is thought to promote feelings of liveliness and excitement. It is also a colour that is said to stimulate the mind and body, and to promote creativity.

In conclusion, Mammon’s visual appearance features colours that have a psychologically vitalising and positive effect on the viewer, making him a very pleasant character to look at.

KA-CHING!

The known laws of physics forbid the movement through the outer space of either mass or energy faster than the light speed. Mammon doesn’t care about that, he simply teleports wherever he pleases.

The trickster archetype is a “boundary-crosser”. They violate principles of social and natural order, playfully disrupting normal life and then re-establishing it on a new basis. They will dismantle, construct, manifest themselves, move, and perform tricks that seem to bend all notions of causality, normality, and sense. All your prior knowledge and assumptions will be casually thrown out the window by these entities. They excel at manipulating reality to their will and breaking the laws of physics. The strangeness of Mammon does not end there. Where does the „ka-ching“ sound and confetti come from? What are those voices of cheering kids? Mammon is a reality warper and uses his abilities in the most childish yet endearing way possible. You are confronted with something that blows up your categories of judgement and does not give you a coherent explanation for anything you saw. These are just facts you need to somehow integrate into your established picture of reality.

The Jester and the Death

There could be a very profound symbolism behind Mammon’s skeleton suit.

The medieval understanding held that the root of all foolishness was the denial of God (logos, ratio). Any detachment from human reason, or the instinctive, irrational, and impulsive behavior that prioritizes desire over purposeful thought, was referred to in this context as "foolishness." Foolishness and sin were set on the same level. Those who denied the existence of God were doomed to eternal death after their life on Earth had ended because they rejected the idea of an immortal soul (and, instead, lived a life of an irrational desire-driven “animal”).

The Fall of Man brought death into the world. Adam and Eve lose both paradise and immortality when they choose to follow the serpent instead of God. The Old Testament provides an explanation for the two greatest mysteries of human existence: first, the imperfection of man and, second, the temporal limitation of his existence. If original sin is the reason for death and if foolishness has the same meaning as the original sin, then foolishness should also have a causal connection with death. This was, in fact, the conviction of people in the late Middle Ages.

The fool and the death are believed to have a kinship relationship in the Dance of the Death frescoes. The death appears in numerous depictions of it dressed as a jester. During the turn of the Middle Ages, there are actually a lot of visual arts examples where death and the jester are viewed as counterparts (window niche in the monastery of St. Georgen in Stein am Rhein; choir stalls of the church of St. George in Nördlingen, collegiate church of Öhringen in Hohenlohe, etc.).

The other implied connection is the fact that the Carnival (“carne vale”) is followed by the Ash Wednesday (“remember man that you are dust, and to dust you shall return”). Two aspects of man’s limitations (flesh and death) are thus seen as affiliated with each other in the liturgical year.

The Devil, the Jester und the Death are the Unholy Trinity of Christian visual art.

Truth is One, One is All, All is One

Cultural similarities across the globe underline the facts that, despite things being expressed in different ways, our psyche tries to communicate the same truths. All cultural manifestations have their unique features, but within their areas of action one can recognize the same archetypal patterns. Jungian analysts and mythologists pointed to the plethora of tricksters around the world.

Firstly, Mammon reminds me of the Laughing Buddha (Budai or Hotei) from Eastern cultures. His well-fed appearance represents abundance. When you observe the most popular form of the laughing Buddha closely, you will notice that he is always carrying a cloth bag that is filled with many precious items such as food, candies for children, and other riches. According to the belief, he will collect all your sadness and misfortune, put it in his sack and leave you with abundance and positivity. The sack also represents wealth and good fortune.

The most popular colour for household Laughing Buddha sculptures is gold. Even though it is a Feng Shui sign, Vastu Shastra experts also advocated for the placing of Laughing Buddhas in the home. To them, the smiling Buddha is comparable to Kubera (the god of wealth). Lord Kubera, celebrated as the Supreme Lord of Wealth and revered as the Treasurer of the Gods, stands as the epitome of affluence in Hindu mythology. Business owners and shopkeepers, seeking to accumulate wealth, turn their devotion toward Kubera.

Lastly, Mammon’s affiliation with the wealth and his jester nature draw parallel to the Roman God Mercury. He is a trickster and the god of commerce. His name is related to the Latin word merx, from which we get the English words merchandise, merchant, and commerce. It may also correspond to the Latin word mercari (to trade). Mercury often served as a mediator between the gods and mortals, including being a guide to the people who descended into the Underworld. Considering the fact that “the Underworld” is a symbol of the unconsciousness, this perfectly correlates with the previously mentioned ability of a clown to perfectly balance between rational and irrational state of being.

As stated above, the alchemy symbolically views Mercurius as the resulting “child” of the Union of Opposites, the restoration of the original undifferentiated state of the cosmos. The tria prima of alchemy needing for the achievement of this state consist of “sulphur, salt and mercury”. Sulfur, the "soul", is the masculine principle. Salt, as the "body", is the feminine principle. Mercury, as "spirit", is equivalent to "mind". Hence, the mystical trinity is: Soul, Body, Mind. It is, however, important to consider that the mind has two aspects (conscious and subconscious, left and right). This is metaphorically expressed in the balancing act of Mercury. This is why Mercury is often depicted with wings, he literally "flies between the two worlds". In the “In the mountain of the Adepts” engraving from Stephan Michelspacher's “Alchemia”, one can spot Mercurius at the top centre, being depicted as a playful, jester-like figure, standing in the same balancing pose like the Mammon standee.

Taken from the Shark Robot merch store, Twitter: kstoooone Conclusion

Mammon provides us with a plenitude of symbolic insight into the topics that continue to stay vitally relevant. Seeing Mammon is enough to feel like coming in contact with a primordial deity. You are confronted with something greater that yourself and experience “mysterium tremendum et fascinans”. Mammon is undoubtedly the best character ever created by the Western civilization.

*gives his cheek a smooch*

[starrieisdelusional]

snippet of arthur snapping to banished!merlin in s4 of my fix it au

Arthur has really been an idiot hasn’t he?

He’s not one to overthink things. Arthur has always rely on efficiency. Running a kingdom needs to be orderly. He doesn’t have time to think unnecessary things. Mundane tasks such as ironing his clothes and preparing his food are left to the servants. Kings does not have time to think of such things, let alone dispensable things.

Now he’s cursing himself for being so negligent. It should be obvious from the very beginning. Branches does not fall from the sky at proper timings, nor do fire blows up indoors, dancing up the ceilings. Arthur thought it was merely coincidence, but after running a kingdom for a year he sees now that coincidences usually happens for a reason.

Arthur felt the blowing of the wind too often on his expeditions. He knows how unidentifiable creatures shows up in the morning, in the forests of Camelot. Or how assassins made a fool of themselves, dying before they even had the chance to take Arthur’s life. And each time it happens, he always saw a blur of a figure, so quick Arthur thought he is hallucinating.

He knows Merlin is there. Hiding in the shadows, watching Arthur from every corner. He was enraged at first. How dare he? Did he really think that Arthur was that stupid not to notice his little stunts? But every time he tries to catch him, it always ended up in concerns

Guard: (in a flashback) Is everything alright my lord? Arthur: …fine

The castle staff never question his disappearance, oddly quiet of Merlin’s banishment. Guinevere didn’t talk to him for a month. He didn’t miss the glare that came from his army. Lancelot and Gwaine have always been fond of the manservant. They stopped after a few months.

Arthur thinks that the camelot notice him. And they pretend not to. But he can’t really do anything can he? Not without sounding like a lunatic. So he never addresses it. Even when it’s so blatantly obvious.

Arthur is sick of it truthfully. It reminds him of him in a way. Is it too much for them to trust him? Morgana and his father too…and now Camelot. Is it because he’s such a fool for a king?

So one night when they were on an expedition, when Arthur is sick of all the lies, and the hypocrisy and everything. Arthur sneaks out of the camp, to where the banshee is last spotted.

Arthur waits for it to come. He waited and waited, until he heard a scream, when it almost got him, it dissolves into dust, hit by a spell so powerful Arthur still feels the intensity.

Voice: It is not safe out here, go back to your camp Arthur Pendragon

Arthur: Stop taking me for a fool Merlin, I know it’s you

When there’s no reaction, he groans, drawing his sword

Arthur: COME OUT MERLIN STOP BEING SUCH A COWARD!

It was quiet for a while and Arthur screams. He thrust his sword into the ground.

Arthur: I’LL LET YOU KNOW MERLIN- THAT’S RIGHT I KNOW IT’S YOU -THAT I HATE YOU! YOU LIAR! I TOLD YOU TO NEVER APPEAR IN FRONT OF MY SIGHT EVER AGAIN! AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU STALK ME LIKE A CREEP! HAVE IT EVER CONCURRED TO YOU THAT THE THINGS YOU DID AREN’T NORMAL? WELL YOU ARE! DO YOU REALLY THINK I WON’T NOTICE THAT YOU’RE IN CAMELOT THIS WHOLE TIME?? YOU’RE AN IDIOT AND A INEPT INCOMPETENT RUDE BUMBLING OF A FOOL!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!

Arthur wipes the tears that starts to fall out of his eyelashes

Arthur: I hate that you won’t go away, I hate everything about you, I hate that stupid grin of yours, I hate your attitude, I hate your stupid face, I hate that stupid haircut, I hate your tears, I hate that I think of you each night

Arthur grips the hilt of his sword, struggling to speak

Arthur: I won’t forgive you Merlin of Ealdor. For as long as I breathe I will make sure you can never go back to Camelot nor will I ever allow magic to roam free in the land. I will follow my legacy as Uther Pendragon’s son

Arthur went back to the camp. He feels warm despite the cool winter air and his heart feeling like lead.

When morning came, there are no more banshees. Arthur saw a cloaked figure behind the trees, watching.

season 4:

main post:

To find my other ramblings about this AU, filter with the hashtag #must we really rely on fate?

[umbracirrus]

Sujamma Sundas

Tagged in this by @skyrim-forever, and I will take literally any excuse to ramble on about my idiots <3

This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

Tagging @thequeenofthewinter, @hircines-hunter. @illumiera, @friend-of-giants, anyone else who wants to do this <3

As I said, of course, I'm going to talk about my idiots Elyse and Balgruuf-!!

These have their first meeting, as is typical for many dragonborn and the Jarl of Whiterun, with Elyse going to Dragonsreach to seek aid for Riverwood on the behest of the town residents. Elyse hurts herself on the journey there though, so rather than immediately sending her to Farengar and Bleak Falls Barrow, he sends her to the Temple of Kynareth to be healed and pays for a meal and a room at the Bannered Mare, asking for her to return after she has rested to do that favour. To be completely honest, Balgruuf has already started falling for her at this point. This survivor of Helgen, with little to her name, putting her life at risk to protect his people and asking for nothing in return? And she's pretty? And she's the damned Dragonborn?!?! Making her Thane of the city and giving her the axe of Whiterun is basically flirting with the way that he's giving her heart eyes, even if he doesn't realise or think of it as such.

So yeah, main quest happens, he remains a stalwart ally of hers through it all, is over the moon(s) that she decides to buy Breezehome, and lingers on the Dragonsreach porch for ages after she flies off to defeat Alduin. Then when he hears that she's returned, he doesn't wait for her to visit him in Dragonsreach, he goes to find her to check up on her. These idiots get drunk, dance, almost kiss, and don't remember any of it. Only Lydia does.

Elyse meanwhile, she starts falling for Balgruuf bad when he defends her from Ulfric, allows her to stay in Dragonsreach, does everything in his power to keep her safe. She's in denial about it for ages, at least until she gets teased about it by Lydia, then it hits her like a tonne of bricks that she's down bad.

From there, they are both just... oh, they are pining. They are pining bad. The majority of Whiterun seems to think that they are already together, so when they finally get together...? It's not a surprise for the people of the city (though it is for people beyond, who had no idea just how painful their pining was). Hrongar likely had some sort of bet going on with Irileth, Lydia, and other people in Dragonsreach about how long it takes for them to finally kiss and/or sleep together.

The thing is, when these two are together, as soon as behind closed doors they are completely sappy and affectionate. Holding hands, cuddling, the works. And they are sentimental. They get engaged exactly four years after their first meeting, for example. Balgruuf takes interest in her hobbies of gardening and alchemy for her, and Elyse likes to listen to him read history books aloud simply because he likes them and she likes his voice.

And nobody dares interrupt them when they are on the balcony atop Dragonsreach, that is their place, their sanctuary from their responsibilities, and Divines forbid somebody interrupt their intense make out session/stargazing/cuddle time out there.

Even better about their relationship is that Elyse gets along well with each of Balgruuf's children, and Balgruuf appreciates it beyond belief - she somehow manages to help with bringing them closer together whereas in the past they ended up quite distant, even more so when the idiots have their daughter Aina after being married for a few years.