#the way his voice cracks towards the end holy hell

[molinaesque]

"We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments. Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation. We inhabit these cells, these identities, and call them "us." I thought I could break free by eliminating those I deemed my jailors. But...

[alastor-simp]

Alastor + Angel Dust Reacting To Female Reader Being A Really Good Dancer💃🏼

❥Summary: Your boyfriend and you have been dating for a while, and they are very interested in learning more about you. One day in the hotel, they discover a special talent of yours, leaving them starstruck.

❥Tags: alastor x reader, angel dust x reader, dancer, headcannon, boyfriends, lovers, hazbin hotel headcannon, boyfriend reactions, fluff, romance, some suggestive stuff

❥Warnings: A bit suggestive and swears

❥Notes: Always wanted to write something like this! Hope you guys enjoy.

✪Them Finding You✪

Both you and your significant other have been dating for a few months in the Pride Ring. It honestly came out of nowhere, but the both of you were content with each other. Since the relationship was brand new, there were still some things the both of you didn't know a whole lot about the other, maybe some favorite foods and fashion choices, but nothing more than that. The both of you would communicate and want to learn more about the other, but not to the point it made the other uncomfortable.

One afternoon, they were heading over to your room to bring you a snack from the kitchen, since it has been a while since they last saw you. Upon coming closer to your room, sounds of music could be heard from the other side. The door was slightly cracked, allowing them to peak through it. Looking through, their eyes widen at the sight of you, performing a very alluring dance routine.

✪Your Dance✪

Alastor🦌

🦌"My my, quite an impressive talent." Alastors gazed at you with smouldering eyes, smile widening at the sight of you.

🦌He had found you very shy and sweet when he first met you, causing him to drop his guard around you, as it would hurt his soul to treat you like he treated the others.

🦌Now he came to discover this side of you, and his heartbeat was skyrocketing. Never has he seen someone move so sensually before since his time in hell. Some of the moves you did cause some confusion as he was from 1900s, so he was more familiar with the Charleston or the Jitterbug.

🦌Your dance routine had come to an end, as Alastor saw you paused the music from your radio. Alastor had opened the door wide to your room, and began to clap his hands, honoring your little performance, causing you to jump in shock.

🦌"Bravo, my dear!" Alastor was smiling widely, as he made his way towards you, while your face was flushed pure red, having realized that Alastor was watching you the whole time. Alastor was right in front of you, head tilted at you. "What is wrong, darling?".

🦌Your broke out of your thoughts at Alastors question, looking to the side, twirling your hair with your fingers. "N-nothings wrong. Just..um..did you see all of that?" You hesitantly asked. Alastor chuckled at your question, leaning his head down further towards yours, making you turn even redder.

🦌"HAHA! Every bit of it, my dear! You never mentioned to me that you had an amusing talent like this." You kept looking down to the floor, twiddling your fingers. "Oh, I always loved dancing when I was younger, so I self taught myself certain moves and went from there." A hand made its way towards your chin, causing you to turn your face up towards Alastor, as he was gazing at you with desire.

🦌"It was very enchanting to watch. I wouldn't mind requesting a private show from you in the near future. Possibly in my chambers perhaps?" His finger traced your lips, as the static from his voice dissipated, letting you know he was being serious. Shivers spread through your body, and you felt like you could melt right now with how Alastor was looking at you.

🦌Nodding your head, you told Alastor you wouldn't mind doing that. Chuckling, Alastor leaned closer, placing a small kiss on your forehead. "Lovely~. Now, my dear. If you wouldn't mind, can I teach you some moves from my era? I'm sure you will enjoy it!"

Angel Dust🕷

🕷"HOLY SHIT ON A CRACKER!!!" Angel's thoughts exploded when he saw you busting a move in your room. Shit, you could move better than him!!!!

🕷Angel made it blatantly aware how good he was at his services in your relationship, including pole dancing. He cooled it down with you, as he assumed you weren't really use to that type of stuff and he believes in consent and making his lover comfortable in the relationship, so he put the very dirty comments and actions away for you.

🕷Seeing you dance like this was like a slap to the face. You were just a cute itty bitty little thing and here you were dropping it low, in HIGH HEELS!?! Oh no, this wasn't good, he was getting horny watching this.

🕷The music soon came to an end, and you slowly rose from the floor, moving your hands to fix your hair. The sound of the door slamming opened made you jump, and you turned to see Angel running towards you, picking you up of the ground and holding you up in the air.

🕷OH MY SATAN!!! TOOTS!!, WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL ME YOU WERE SUCH A SKILLED DANCER!! Angel kept spinning you around, smiling so wide his golden tooth was flashing so much. Your mind was still in a state of shock, especially now that Angel found out about your little hobby. "It's nothing special, Angel. Its just dancing."

🕷Angel had literally put you back down and began to shake you. "ITS. NOT. JUST. DANCING!!!!" He empathize each word with a shake. He soon stopped and placed both of his hands on your cheeks, making you look up at him, as he bent down a bit to reach your level. "That was by far the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my entire life." Angel whispered to you, as he looked at you lovingly, rubbing his thumb against your cheeks as he continued to hold them.

🕷Your heart skipped a bit as you continued to stare at Angel. Smiling, you lifted one of your hands to place it against his own, muttering a "thanks." Angel smirked and began to pull you towards him. He sat on the bed, positioning your body to sit on his lap. "Would love to have you teach me some of those moves. Whatcha think toots? Would you mind being my teacher? I'll be a really good student, trust me." Smirking, you leaned closer, giving Angel a kiss, before pulling back "Sure."

-END-

Tag List:

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@lillylovesalastorsm1 , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

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[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!・l.f.

—Even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・action, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cursing, death of bad guys, blood, cursing, guns, knives, felix being a little shit, did i mention cursing?? (its my mother tongue)

𝐚/𝐧・BOO BITCHES!! haha i'm back after being gone for a... month...yeah...sorry. this is just something silly i had originally planned to put into my bodyguard!lix fic, but i ended up changing the plot so i can no longer (maybe) use it, though i loved it so much i just decided to post it :)) alsoooo does anyone want to be tagged in bodyguard!lix fic??

How the fuck did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Is all you can think of as the room swarms with men, all armed with various weapons, effectively backing yourselves into a corner.

Well, shit.

The walls are cold and hard as you fight your way to the door, driving your throwing knives into any vulnerable place your enemy shows. Men are falling all around you both by your hands and Felix's. It's all a blur—arrows wizz by your neck, mallets swinging around your head.

"Watch out!" Felix shouts. He places his hands around your waist. You are in the air before you can even blink. An arrow hits the cracked cobblestone where your forehead would have been.

Holy shit.

"Thank you," you throw over your shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the wall, launching it into the final man's chest fumbling with his bow right before he collapses. "But I didn't need your help."

Felix barks out an incredulous laugh, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Momentarily he is baffled before something else passes over his expression.

"Fine," he rests his back against the wall, dropping his bloody knife onto the floor, much to your horror.

"Felix, what the fuck—" you don't even get to complete the sentence before another man is sprinting towards you, appearing from the entryway red-eyed and vengeful, fueled by the death of all his comrades. You launch a knife at his jugular. He crumples like a rag doll.

"Felix, pick the knife up," you shout frantically, watching as six more men swarm into the hallway charging toward you. They really don't seem to like you. You move to pull more knives out of your seethe only to find you have four left.

"Felix, this isn't funny, pick the fucking knife up," you demand, far too afraid to be ashamed about the slight trembling in your tone. You send him a look over your shoulder, their stomping growing closer, too close, way, way too close.

"Are you going to admit you need my help?" Felix's obnoxiously smug voice sounds from behind you, practically tasting the smirk in his voice. You grit your teeth so hard they feel like they are going to fall off, but the steps grow louder, too loud.

"I need your help." The words taste so foul in your mouth you almost want to throw the "I hate you" that follows right back up. He smiles, back to his happy, cheery, you-want-to-smack-him-in-the-face-so-bad self.

"Atta girl," he purrs. "Now duck."

You obey.

Two guys breach the entrance, announcing their presence with a deafening battle cry. In one swift motion, Felix pulls a gun from thin fucking air and levels it with their heads. Taking in the mountains of dead bodies, they choose to listen to the barrel of his gun, halting instantly.

"Do you mind? The adults are talking," he chastizes, rolling his eyes as though he is talking to a petulant toddler instead of four knife-wielding guards.

"Where the hell did you get that?" you gasp, pointing to the that in question. He tilts his head, a slow, serpentine smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, this thing?" he flashes it in the light. "I got it from the guard at the gate." You're going to kill him. You're going to take this knife and shove it straight through his stupid, stupid head.

"You've had a gun this entire time?" You seethe, your eye twitching. For a moment, you're so pissed you completely forget about the men awkwardly waiting by the door two seconds away from sprinting.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help," Felix smirks.

"And you chose now to hold me up to my word."

In some half-baked plan to escape, the group charges forward, not before Felix pulls the trigger, shooting all four members square in the forehead—all without ever leaving your gaze. He rolls his eyes, shooting you a look like, 'Do these guys ever learn?' Then, as if nothing ever happened, he says,

"You seemed very adamant."

You were going to punch him, really, truly, you were going to put your fist through his annoyingly beautiful face. Instead, you yank the gun from his hands, clicking the safety and sliding it into the belt of your pants. He doesn't complain as you drag him out of the room, stepping over thick puddles of blood and tangled limbs, cringing slightly as red stains the bottom of your shoe. You wipe it on the floor when you step into the hallway, tiptoeing down the corner.

Somewhere in the distance, murmurs of voices catch your attention. Hiding behind a corner, the shadows cloak you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. The voices loom closer, almost close enough—in complete silence, you could make out the words.

"Hey love, your shoe's untied," Felix speaks from behind you, so loud you spin around, pressing a finger onto his lips in a rush, slowly realizing what little distance is left between you. He smiles against your finger, bringing his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the skin. You fight back a disgusted shriek, instead resorting to a harsh glare and a defiant middle finger.

"I really, truly, to the deepest depths of my soul, hate you," you say, wiping the saliva off your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the bedroom."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

cookie owns this

[hbyrde36]

Times Like These

(The Anniversary Edition)

Link to anniversary post

Now with amazing FANART 😱

When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused.

-Or-

What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

Chapter 1: The Hell Loop

WC: 2,902 | AO3 link

Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. He tried to keep it together for Dustin’s sake. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt or have to see something like this, hence the cutting of the rope, but traumatized was a hell of a lot better than dead, so he couldn’t regret either of the choices he’d made.

“I love you, man.” 

Eddie forced the words out, coughing and sputtering

“I love you too.” Dustin replied.

Eddie couldn’t see anymore, but the tears in the younger boy's voice were hard to miss. 

It was the last thing he heard before he died.

Dying didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually. Eddie could pinpoint the exact moment he passed on, because it was the same moment the pain stopped. He found himself floating away into an unfamiliar blackness and couldn’t even bring himself to be scared. He was too relieved at being free of the agony and guilt.

Before he could do much more than wonder where he was floating off to, a loud almost overwhelming rushing sound hit his ears. Instinctually, he tried to cover them to drown out the noise, only to realize he didn’t exactly have a body right now. No ears to cover, no hands to do it with.

With that frightening thought his eyes shot open, -oh thank fuck he had eyes again- and his feet hit solid ground. Inexplicably, he was back in the trailer. He looked up to find that the ceiling was intact, and Chrissy Cunningham– whole, and alive, was standing just a few feet in front of him, looking nervous and jittery. 

“Are you sure you have it?”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Chrissy! You’re alive?!” Eddie gasped.

Her face twisted up in confusion, a feeling Eddie was also becoming intimately familiar with. What was this? Some life-flashing-before-your-eyes-on-the-way-to-the-grave bullshit? But he was already dead, he was sure of it, so that could only mean…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. 

Why he was apologizing to some visage of the past that probably wasn't even real, he did not know, but it felt appropriate. 

She’d been through a lot. 

“You’re probably not alive, actually, if you’re here. Since I'm, y’know– dead, and all.” He continued, letting out a frankly deranged sounding laugh as he began to pace around the room.

“But why are you here?” He mused, thinking out loud.

It could actually be her, he reasoned. She was dead too, right? But that would mean they wound up in the same place and that was absolutely ridiculous. 

A sweet little thing like her? 

Guaranteed one way ticket to the good place. 

And Eddie? 

Well, he never had any doubts about where he was going to end up.

The realization hit him like a Mack truck, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Oh my god, I’m in Hell. This is Hell. I ran away. I ran– I didn’t even try to help you and then I fucking died!” Eddie let out a painful sob as he dropped to his knees on the floor, hands covering his face. Now that he was back here, having to face her again after what he’d done, It was all hitting him at once. 

His voice shook as he continued rambling. “Right in front of Dustin too… and- and now this is my Hell. I’ll probably have to watch you die, over-and-over-and-over again.”

He felt the air shift, heard the light footsteps as Chrissy took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Watch me die?” She said, voice cracking, sounding so, so small and scared. “Eddie, please… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shit, he really couldn’t stop fucking this up could he? 

Even if Hell-Chrissy wasn’t real, he still felt horrible for scaring her. None of this was her fault. He rubbed at his face hard and took a deep calming breath before looking up at her again. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore though. She was rigid, staring straight ahead at something he couldn’t see, only the whites of her eyes visible as they rolled to the back of her head. 

He jumped to his feet, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, again, but fuck that. He was already dead, probably, and none of this was real– he was almost sure none of this was real, but maybe he could still try to help her. 

Music had snapped Red out of it, maybe it would work for Chrissy too. 

Eddie raced to his bedroom, snatching his Walkman off the bed before sprinting back to the living room. He knew it was pretty fucking unlikely that the head cheerleader of Hawkins High was a secret Metallica fan, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He gently placed the headphones over her ears and pressed play, the volume loud enough that he could just make out the sound of the opening riff to Master of Puppets.

-

It didn’t work. 

He hadn’t really thought it would.

He forced himself to watch as her body began to float.

Listened to the sickening snap as each of her arms and legs were twisted, and broken.

Stood frozen, a silent witness, unmoving until her body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.

He didn't even scream.

He’d tried, and he hadn’t let her die alone. It was all he could do.

Hell or not, Eddie wasn’t keen on hanging out with a dead body if he could help it. So finally, he let himself go, grabbing his keys off the counter, and rushed out to the van.

–

Eddie drove slowly, aimlessly around town, at a bit of a loss for what to do next. It was a far cry from the way he’d peeled out of the trailer park and sped down the road on the night of Chrissy’s actual death, heart racing like a trapped rat desperately seeking shelter from a predator he couldn't even see. This time around he just felt numb.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to follow his previous course of action. If he was right in assuming that he was being made to relive his greatest hits from the last 7 days, at least this way he knew he’d get to see Dustin’s face again. He drove towards Lover’s Lake, already dreading spending another night at Rick’s.

–

The morning after a sleepless night found him back in a boat, hiding under a tarp, and clutching tightly to the neck of a broken beer bottle. The numbness had faded hours ago, leaving the door open for anxiety and terror to return in full force. In short, Eddie was freaking out. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left Chrissy's body to grow cold on the living room floor, but the second he heard the voices outside the boathouse he went into panic mode, just as he had the first time, unsure of what or who might be coming for him. 

Would it be more visions from the past? Or had the devil finally sent his minions to collect.

A few confusing moments, and a jab to the ribs with a fucking wooden oar later, Eddie was, for the second time in his life, throwing Steve Harrington violently against a wall and shoving a jagged edge of glass close enough to his throat that one deep breath would draw blood.

He stared into the other boy's eyes from inches away, and he wanted to drop the bottle. He remembered every single thing Steve and the others had done for him as he faced down the worst week of his life, but this could very well be Hell. 

And that might not be the Steve he’d come to trust.

The one he’d come to know wasn’t the same stuck up asshole he remembered from high school, who had proven time and time again that he was a good guy.

And he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

“Eddie! Stop!” The thing that looked like Dustin shouted. “Eddie, it’s me, it's Dustin. This is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Eddie, wanting to believe it so badly, actually did lower the bottle a little, only to accidentally drop it to the ground, his only weapon shattering at his feet. 

He fisted a hand into the front of Steve’s shirt. 

“What are you doing here man, what do you want from me?” 

Steve dropped the oar, all the breath whooshing out of him at once. “Dustin and Max wanted to find you. I’m just here to keep the little shits safe, I swear.”

Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Robin and Max began to approach from the side cautiously. Right, they had been there too, he'd almost forgotten. 

“We just want to know what happened, Eddie. We wanna help,” Max said.

It was the earnestness in her voice that got him, that made him finally break and move away from Steve, allowing Robin to rush to his side. 

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it trembled. 

He was sure they wouldn't believe it. If it even mattered, if they were even really here, if any of this was even real. 

He was still pretty convinced this was all just some form of divine punishment, and only happening in his own head, after all. 

It wasn’t about what happened to Chrissy. He knew they would believe that, they had once already, but whatever else was going on here? This deja vu flashback thing or whatever it was? They had no reason to trust he was telling the truth about the fact that he was dead– or had died temporarily? Or that this had all happened to him before. 

It was, admittedly, unbelievable. 

So, he made a choice. He didn't tell them that part. He told the same story he had the first time around and they in turn told him a very short history of the Upside Down. It didn’t hit so hard this time, since he’d already heard it all once before, but it was still wild to think about everything this group had been through. He couldn’t believe it’d all been happening right under his nose.

Despite himself, he watched Steve through most of the explanations. Eddie had been so focused on his own experience at the time that he hadn’t paid much attention to him after the attempted throat slashing. He looked dejected, sad, already resigned to the fact that the monsters he’d been protecting these kids from for years now were back, again. Eddie sympathized.

-

The week flew by in a blur of blood, sweat, and tears, events unfolding in the exact same way that he remembered, and he never said a word about it to anyone. 

He kept expecting it all to end somehow. 

On the rare occasion that he fell asleep,  he thought for sure he would wake up from this nightmare either back in his bed after having the longest most fucked up dream of his life, or somewhere– else, preferably on a fluffy cloud after having served his penance for petty crimes.

Unless god actually did hate the gays… then he was fucked. 

It wasn’t until he and Dustin were alone, after fortifying the trailer and getting his guitar set up that he decided– maybe he’d been an idiot to just keep going along with the script like this. It’d been days without so much as a hint of fire and brimstone, so either he'd been sold a bill of goods his whole life about what Hell would be like, or, this was really happening. 

Again. 

At this point, neither possibility was a particularly good one. If he’d been somehow sent back in time and given a second chance, he had absolutely screwed it up. 

Fuck it, he might as well tell Dustin now at least. See what happened.

“Alright, uh, listen, I have to tell you something– and I’m not sure you’re going to believe me but I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Dustin laughed, bright and incredulous as he checked the plugs on the amp one last time. “After everything we’ve been through the past few days, and the shit I’ve seen over the last three years, do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe?”

Ok, kid had a point. 

Eddie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been through this before, all of it, with you guys. For a while I thought I was in Hell, y’know? Doomed to relive Chrissy’s death over and over again, and between you and me I’m still not totally sure that isn’t the case, but then you guys found me in that damn boathouse just like before, and everything else has happened exactly like I remember, and I-” 

His speech was cut short by Dustin screeching, “Are you serious right now?! You have to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you… you’re in a time loop and you didn’t say anything?!”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised up nearly to the bandana he had tied around his head. “Wait, you believe me?! Just like that?!”

Dustin put his hands on his hips, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of a certain babysitter that Eddie definitely hadn't developed the habit of staring at at every given opportunity. 

Not the time!

“I wouldn’t say, just like that.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers. “If it was anyone outside of the party I would think they were crazy, but this is you we’re talking about. And like I said, after everything? This is not that hard to swallow. I mean, why would you make something like that–”

Dustin stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor changing on a dime as if he’d just discovered something awful. Belatedly, Eddie realized his mistake.

“Eddie, why would you think you were in Hell? Did you… “ The kid trailed off, and when he spoke next his voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do we lose? Did you…die?”

Eddie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t think– I guess there’s no way to tell you I might be repeating time without admitting it. Yeah, I… died. As far as Vecna, I have no idea. I was gone before Steve, Robin, and Nancy got back.”

Before he could respond, the Walkie in Dustin’s hand came to life, with Robin’s voice crackling through the small speaker. “She’s in, move on to phase 3. Over.”

“Guess that’s it. Time’s up.” Eddie muttered.

Dustin bit his lip as he looked at Eddie, eyes questioning and full of fear.

Eddie shook his head, silently answering the unasked question. He didn’t want Dustin to tell them, or try and stop this. It was too late. He refused to risk the kid, or somehow make things worse by changing the plan this late in the game. 

Dustin squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the button on the handset to reply, “Copy that, initiating phase three. Over.”

Eddie gave the kid his best reassuring smile as he pulled the guitar strap up over his head and with shaking hands began to play, knowing there was no time to waste. 

-

Bleeding out wasn’t any more fun the second time around. 

Eddie had given it his all, fighting tooth and nail against those flying leeches, but there was no use. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him. Just as he had the first time he took off on that bike to lead the bats away, he’d known the fate he was resigning himself to. The difference this time was, he actually had a sliver of hope. 

If the impossible happened once, maybe it could happen again. 

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie said, choking back blood as he watched Dustin limp towards him. “Didn’t notice the leg last time–“ He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath. Talking had already become difficult. “Shouldn’t have cut the rope, s’not like it stopped you.” 

He forced a smile, trying so hard not to let it show on his face just how much pain he was in. Not that there was much point, the kid had eyes. He could surely see the red ruin Eddie’s body had become.

Dustin sobbed openly and it broke Eddie’s heart. 

“God damnit, Eddie!” He shouted, shaking his head and pounding the ground with his fist. “Promise me if you get another shot at this that you’ll tell me. Tell me as soon as you possibly can about the time loop. Please! We have to come up with another plan.”

Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to scoop the boy into his arms and comfort him, might have tried anyway but he couldn't move. “What if you don’t believe me?” He choked out.

“I'm adopted,” Dustin blurted out through his sniffles. “My mom only told me last year. No one else knows, not even Steve, but… I trust you, Eddie. I’d believe you without it, but if you need to, tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Eddie nodded, or tried to, and felt Dustin’s hand slip into his. 

“I love you, man”

“I love you too”

Chapter 2

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Shoutout also to @theheadlessphilosopher @withacapitalp and @hitlikehammers for the help and encouragement to do this.

Tagging a few friends that expressed interest or I think might be interested? I am ALWAYS happy to tag or remove - just let me know!

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch

[moldycantaloupe]

I got a small cold going on and figured now's a good time for a classic sickfic. (aka i whump phantom, again)

Cw: Fever, no vom

Rain looked up from his late breakfast and saw Aurora standing in the doorway, her face laced in concern.

“What’s happening, Rory?” He was quick to stand, ready to help ease her. She shook her head.

“Something’s wrong with Phantom…” She mumbled, her voice quiet. 

Rain frowned and started towards the hall, Aurora quick to follow. She led him towards their room with their door cracked open, but hesitated just outside it, as if scared to go in.

Rain, thankfully, did it for her, searching the rather dark room until his eyes landed on the heap of quint ghoul on the floor right next to their bed. They were wearing nothing but their boxers and shirt, body curled in on itself and face flattened against the ground. Their breathing consisted of wheezes and high yet quiet whines, their body dewy with a sheen of sweat.

“Phantom,” Rain rushed to kneel next to them, hands floating above their body as he tried to figure out what was happening. “What are you feeling, bug?”

“I think-” their scratchy voice was interrupted by a coughing fit, the end pitching into a pained whine, “I’m gonna die.”

Rain laid a hand against their forehead, Phantom nuzzling into the touch, and sighed when his suspicions were confirmed. Both Phantom and Aurora were barely three months Topside, and it was a wonder to Rain how they both stayed clear of any sickness for this long. It was only a matter of time, he figured. 

“Satanas, you’re running hotter than Dew…” He turned their head just slightly so he could get another hand on the back of their neck. 

“Thank you…” They muttered miserably. Rain blinked and just barely held back a smile. He turned towards Aurora, who now stood behind the two.

“Can you grab Aether for me, Rory?” Rain calmly asked.

“What’s wrong with them?” She wrung her hands together with nerves.

“They’re just sick.” He turned back to face them, his hands and floor putting in hard work to keep them cool. “Tell Aether they have a fever, he’ll bring what they need.”

Aurora nodded and ran out the room, nearly running into the wall doing so. He could hear her distantly yelling for Aether as she left their den and turned his attention back to the sick quint.

They were shivering, now trying to get away from his touch. “‘M cold.”

“That’s good, bug.” Rain chased their face with his hands. “We need to get you as cold as possible, okay?”

They stayed like that until Aether came in with a small bucket of items and set them down on Phantom’s bed. He crouched down next to Rain and felt their cheek.

“Holy hell,” Aether mumbled, “Almost as hot as Dew.”

“That’s what Rain said…” Phantom swatted his hand away with their own before falling into another fit of coughs. Aether and Rain shared a concerned look before they worked to get them sat up.

Once their coughing ceased, the two helped them to stand. They make their collective way to the bathroom. Aether started the shower while Rain quietly explained what was going on.

“We’re going to get you in the shower to try and break your fever.” Rain supplied as he helped them to strip. “It might not, but you will feel a little better, and cleaner.”

Phantom nodded with a pout. He stripped down to his boxers and got in with them while Aether went back into the bedroom to prep. They yelped at the cold temperature of the water and Rain guided them through it, running his hands along their scalp while the cold water pelted them.

The shower seemed to help, if only a little, and their clouded eyes from before were now brighter, more alert. Rain helped them out of the shower and into a new set of clothes Aether brought in before walking them both out.

Aether replaced the old bedding for thinner sheets and was in the process of digging through the bucket when the two came out. He smiled softly at Phantom and they gave a small one back. 

“Mountain is currently making some soup for you,” Aether began as Phantom crawled into their bed, “but he brought some tea he said would help soothe your throat.” He went to grab the still warm mug off the nightstand and handed it to the quint.

Phantom hummed and took small sips while they watched Aether and Rain move, both dancing around each other. Rain collected all the crumpled sheets and clothes while Aether continued grabbing and setting up supplies for Phantom. Their sips soon ceased as their head began to slightly bob, eyes growing heavier as the sleep began to take over.

Rain, thankfully, hurried over to grab the mug before the hot liquid could ruin anything and sat it aside. He helped them back into bed and shooed at Phantom’s hand when they tried to grab for a blanket.

“We need you to stay cool, so no blankets. Okay?” He took the cold pack Aether offered, slipping it underneath their neck. They sighed.

“I don’t like being sick…” their words slurred together and Rain smiled in sympathy, watching as their eyelids began to close.

“I don’t think anyone does.” He chuckled. “But we’re gonna take care of you real good, and you’ll be better by the end of the week.”

They cracked their eyes open and looked directly at Rain. “Promise?”

“Yeah, bug.” Rain nodded. “Promise.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Can't stop this feeling - Harry Hook x reader- SMUT FIC- P7

SMUT FIC-MINORS DNI- All ‘important’ characters are 18+!

warning; not a smutty part really, its more of a neverland chapter but (y/n) and Harry get each other off with their hands but that's bout it XD

=

April had arrived, and Harry’s birthday had come with it, meaning something very special for the both of you.

Harry’s eyes were practically squeezed shut as he stepped through the portal that led directly into the heart of Neverland, his hand clutching onto yours as the sound of twinkling bells, an ocean breeze, and lost boys enveloped his senses. “Harry,” you called his name softly, stepping in front of him and squeezing his hand, smiling at him as he fluttered his eyes open, keeping his gaze on you. “look around,” he did, his eyes widening as he took in the sight around him.

“Holy shit,” Harry breathed, stepping away from the portal and spinning around to see everything, he never thought he would ever see Neverland, maybe in pictures but-to see it with his own eyes, to step foot on its magical soil. “i-holy shit,”

You laughed slightly, stepping back to let Harry experience this all on his own, bringing your hands up to smile behind them, biting your lip as Harry shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “I cannot believe I’m ‘ere,” Harry muttered, his face set into a heartbreaking softness with tears in his eyes. “holy shit,”

You let him have a few more moments and then offered your hand, nodding towards the path that led to Mermaid Lagoon. “You ready?” Harry stared, biting his lip. The two of you had talked about going to Mermaid Lagoon, to visit your mother(his mother’s best friend from years ago) and to unlock the rest of Harry’s Mer-biology. Right now he had opal-like scales and gills, but no tail or color, but once he submerged into the neverland waters-he would finally gain his color and tail.

Harry took a deep breath, and took your hand, nerves consuming him as you walked towards the beach-the sound of waves soon overtaking the sound of the forest. He froze at the sight of the water that in itself, seemed magical-separate from the rest of the land. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Harry said, not sure this was a good idea anymore. “what if they hate me?” his voice cracked and you turned, taking his face and kissing him gently, easing his nerves slightly.

“They won't,” you whispered softly, you had sent a message months ago, right after the cruise had ended-and your mother had been very very eager to meet Harry-her best friend's son. It didn’t matter his origin or who his father was-Harry was a piece of Iris, and the pod would accept him with open arms. “I promise,”

Harry bit his inner lip and let you take his hand again, pulling him towards the small shore/cliff that led into the lagoon, grinning as you saw your family, most of them hanging out on the pink-toned rocks and the others swimming or hunting.

“Oh-Arella, it’s (y/n)! darling come here my beautiful, let me look at you~” your aunt Coral cooed, holding out her hands to you as she swam close to the shore, pushing herself up on the rock as you let Harry hang back and set your bag down-meeting your aunt halfway and letting her hold your face, laughing as she turned your face this way and that-humming in approval. “Still so darling-oh my-is this-“

She squealed, admiring your opal jewelry and mate mark on your neck, a grin blooming on your face. “Oh darling! you’ve bonded!” all the present members of your pod cooed and screeched, chattering and clicking in mermish as they rushed up to you, admiring your gifts from Harry and looking closer at the bite mark he left.

You lifted your head in pride, smiling down at your family, your mother’s eyes on Harry, who hung back in the shadow’s, still very unsure of all of this. Neverland? Cool, cool, mermaid lagoon where his mother had been born, raised, and stolen from? Not as cool, he was nervous and terrified as all hell, scared someone would hate him for his father’s actions against his mother.

Your mother called your name gently, keeping her eyes on Harry. You hummed, pulling away from your aunts and walking over to her, taking off your shoes as you did. “Yes mama?” you asked, crouching next to her as she came up to the shore and looking where she was, grinning when you saw Harry.

“Is that him?” she asked, trying to get a better look at the son of her late best friend. You nodded, standing and holding out your hand to him. “C’mon,” you said gently, grinning as he stepped out of the shadows and walked over to you, his cheeks blazing and his shoulders tense, terrified. “mama, this is Harry, Iris’ son, and my bonded mate.”

It was quiet for a moment, Harry’s eyes stayed on you, too scared to look anywhere else. They hated him, he knew it, he should just leave-he really should. But then he felt a hand in his and he turned-locking eyes with your mother. She was smiling, tears in her eyes. “You look just like her,” she whispered, shaking her head and laughing in disbelief, Harry just stared, squeezing your hand. “oh young one, welcome home.” In one motion, she pulled Harry down for a hug and everyone else swam over to greet him-all commenting on his resemblance to Iris, not once mentioning Harry’s father. He could only understand half of them-the others speaking mermish, but he smiled at you, his fears disappearing in an instant.

You grinned down at him, mouthing ‘I told you so’. He just laughed, turning back to your mother as she chatted away, telling him all about his mother-how she had always wanted children, especially a son. Harry eventually sat down, his feet dangling in the water, his opal scales being poked and prodded by the younger mers swimming around-asking why he had such scales.

“He needs to go into the waters deary, then his colors will be revealed,” one of the mothers said, pulling her child away from Harry-who was chuckling at the feeling of his foot being grabbed and moved around. You had gone into the water at this point, swimming around with your mother and talking, telling her how you got together and how you discovered you were soulmates(leaving out all the nsfw details), she very much approved, and the two of you went back to Harry-who was given your mothers blessing.

He might’ve cried a little, you wouldn’t tell anyone though.

Soon enough, Harry was in his swim trunks, standing a few feet away from the water’s edge, fiddling with his hands nervously. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asked, truly wanting to take your hands and take that risk, but the fear he wouldn’t turn kept him rooted on the shore.

You just smiled, tilting your head. “Then it doesn’t, it won’t change a thing.” Harry sighed, wading into the water, taking your hand when he got close enough, feeling everyone’s eyes on him as he got deeper into the lagoon. “Ready?” you asked, holding your mate tightly as his feet left the rocks that connected to the shore-now suspended in the water.

Harry nodded, unable to speak, and closed his eyes, the two of you sinking under the surface. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face nor could you stop the squeal that left you as Harry’s scales bloomed with color, a brilliant blue that matched his eyes and shimmered under the sunlight that beamed through the surface of the water.

You held his hands as his legs turned to a tail, his fin sharp and long-the trait of an attack Mer; the same as his mother. His nails grew sharp, and his knuckles were armored along with his shoulders, elbows, and forearms-allowing him more power behind his attacks. His eyes snapped open-his pupil now angled and shimmering with new magic; he gasped; his fangs now fully shown off. “There you go,” you cooed, kissing the corner of his mouth as Harry looked down at himself, a laugh of disbelief escaping him.

“holy thit,” he muttered, now having a lisp thanks to his new fangs. You laughed, swimming around him-still holding his hand, admiring your beautiful mate, his dark hair complimenting his ocean tail and eyes-just like his mother.

Your mother said as such and Harry teared up, his cheeks flushing and blending into his cheek scales, blubbering a bit as you hugged him-giggling as he pushed his face into your neck. Harry admired his tail, flailing his arms a bit as he sank, clutching onto you as you grabbed him and hauled him back up.

“Need ta get used to your tail eh?” one of your uncles laughed, teasing the new Mer of the pod. Harry flushed, pouting a bit, admiring your tail as you swam around him-showing him how to move his new muscles. “Why doeth me tail look thso different from yerths?” Harry asked, gesturing between his sharp fins and your fins-which flowed like thin fabric-but was just as powerful as his.

“Genetics…and we’re different types of mers, I’m a lure Mer, aka a pretty one that lures prey to their death, think a beta fish-and you’re an attack Mer-the one who hunts and takes down the prey we lure,” You explained, some of the younger mers swimming up and helping Harry learn how to swim with his new tail-taking his hands and holding them up in front of his head.

“you-you gotta use your hands like a guide,” Mira said, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and shoving his bright white hair out of his face-showing Harry what he meant. Harry nodded, taking the kid's advice seriously and following their movements, grinning at you when he successfully swam with his tail. “love! Did ye thsee-I did it!” you giggled, zooming over to him and twirling him around, your tail grazing his face-his cheeks a bright red.

“You did,” you cooed, swimming just above him and kissing him gently, ignoring the gags and squeaks from the kids around you. The older mers cooed and talked among each other-while you guided Harry around, holding his hands the entire time while he learned to swim.

“ith’s heavier than I thought it would be,” Harry muttered, wiggling his hips a bit, landing on a rock and messing with his tail, rubbing his thumbs against his scales. You just hummed, lying next to and around him, propping your head on your hand. “thso-ith anymore of my human anatomy changed with thith?” Harry asked, gesturing to himself.

You hummed, pursing your lips in thought, reaching up and tapping his ear-which was still rounded like a human, unlike your pointed ears. Some things went unaltered, like his ears, and he had a belly button-something you only had in human form. He felt his ear, his eyes drawing to yours, the top half covered in scales-unlike his-his were still human and his scales stopped at his tragus.

“Not really sure what didn’t and didn’t change, suppose that will be something we’ll discover together,” you mumbled, feeling down his arm and curling your hand into his, smiling at the warmth you felt. He squeezed your hand, smiling, feeling so goddamn happy-he was so glad he took this chance. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever of thought of getting a tail, getting a wonderful mate, or even go to Neverland-but he was here, with you, surrounded by his newfound family.

He was happy-so fucking happy.

He turned, grabbing your face and kissing you with every thought and feeling that was going through him right now, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck-pulling back suddenly at the whistles and cheers he heard from your family. Harry blushed furiously, the red blending into his scales as he held you close, smiling as you continued to laugh, your fingers dancing across his cheeks and shoulders.

He was so happy.

-

He lay on your bed later that day, the sun disappearing behind the horizon, his hair drifting up and around with the push of the water encasing him comfortably. His eyes were closed, sleep creeping up at the back of his mind-everything slowly began to slip away, your head on his chest with your arms tossed over his chest. You were still awake, tracing the edges of his bright blue scales with the tips of your fingers-once in a while sending shivers down his spine.

He peered up at you as you moved above him-your hair flowing around you as you did so, your hands suddenly on his cheeks as you looked down at him with such adoration it made him want to cry. “Hi,” Harry whispered, voice deep with sleep. You smiled, leaning down and pecking his lips, whispering against them as you pulled back. “Hello,” you said, your lips traveling across his face, the corner of his lips, his jaw, his nose, his cheekbones, his eyes, his brows, anywhere you could reach.

Harry had never felt so loved.

His hands found the curve of your back, trailing the beginning of the fin that protruded from your back, sighing against your lips as they met his again. He felt your hands in his hair and he felt dizzy, warmth bursting in his chest as his hands traveled your skin, brushing against your scales, feeling your warmth he still wondered how he hadn’t noticed until that fateful day almost half a year ago. It amazed Harry that time had gone by so quickly, it almost seemed like a dream-that cruise.

But he wouldn’t trade the time for anything in the world.

Not if it meant losing you.

Harry let out a shuddering breath as your lips traveled down his jaw, your teeth gently pressing against his neck-brushing over his bond mark. He breathed your name and your lips were on his again, hotter than before, hungry. Your hands pulled at his hair, trailing down his neck until you held his face, heat traveled down his body, and shivers erupted across his skin.

He gasped against your lips as one of your hands went down-brushing against his chest and finding the spot where-in his human body-his dick would be. Harry’s head dropped back with a choked gasp as your fingers slipped into something-a slit, wet and pulsing with heat.

He gasped your name again and you hummed, gently biting his jaw as you teased the slit you found. Pleasure danced across his body, his hand finding your shoulder, letting himself fall into your touch, gasping again and again as you brought something forth from that slit-his cheeks burning as he glanced down-feeling your hands gliding across something familiar.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, staring down at his dick-which had barely changed between his human form and his mer form. “so that’s where it went,” you laughed gently, ghosting your fingers up and down his dick, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back, his hips bucking into the feeling, chasing it. “fuck-“ he moaned your name, his hand finding your cheek as you kissed him again, the other traveling down your body-looking for that same slit in your tail.

You hummed into his mouth as his fingers dipped into that slit, your bodies heating up as you explore each other, Harry almost panting as you stroked his cock. He breathed your name again, his brows furrowing as your hand sped up. He pushed his fingers further into you and curled them, smirking as you gasped and pulled away from his lips, panting as your eyes cracked open, the two of you staring into each other's eyes as you pleasured each other.

Harry’s breath hitched and his back arched as he was suddenly overwhelmed with warmth-that coil snapping in his gut. His fingers hit something devastating within you and you came with him, gasping into his neck as you curled into his body, the two of you breathing heavily.

You lay there for a long moment, just breathing the other in, Harry’s fingers trailing across your back as your hands held onto his shoulders, thumb ghosting across his scales. “I love you,” Harry said, smiling as you sat up suddenly, eyes wide. “wh-wha?” you laughed, huffing as Harry leaned up and caught your lips, his hands traveling your curves and pulling you close.

“I love you; I think I have been since our first date,” Harry said, not joking in the slightest as you smiled at him, taking his face and kissing him. “I love you too,” you whispered as you pulled away, cuddling into your mate as he pulled you to rest beside him-falling asleep to the sound of your breathing and the push of water above the surface.

-

You spent the rest of the week in neverland-Harry getting the hang of his tail as you explored the waters together, soon enough he was easily keeping pace with the other attack mers, grinning cheekily as you raced him from the lagoon to skull rock. He listened to every story your mom told him about Iris, played with the younger mers of the pod, explored every bit of the lagoon he could, kissed you behind the coral, napped in the sun on the pink stone of the lagoon-his tail resting in the blue waters.

The day before you were scheduled to leave, you gifted him something new, one of your scales, plucked from your tail. You drew a thin leather string through it, allowing it to hang around his neck if he so wished. His smile when you gave it to him nearly blinded you, he took the necklace and then your face-kissing you quickly yet passionately, and then put the necklace on, his eyes soft and sweet as he caressed your scale with his numb-your colors shimmering under the water.

Your mother made Harry promise to return as the two of you left, and Harry beamed, nodding-no longer afraid of their judgment, and you held hands as you went back to the portal that would send you back to Auradon prep.

Harry called your name softly before you went to leave and you turned, smiling as Harry stepped close, his arms wrapping around you, his forehead pressing against yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, and you kissed him, breathing him in.

“Anything for you my love,” you whispered back, taking his hand and taking him back to Auradon.

-end of p7-

damn, its been a bit hasnt it? lowkey lost my groove for...idk I've just been outta it since i got back from Georgia i dont know why, but hopefully i can get back into it, for both writing and art. anyways p7! and Harry got his mer form!!!!

taglist

@sephiralorange @c-rose2081 @rintheemolion

@living-for-romance

[arachnoia]

finally ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o’hara x fem! reader (nsfw!)

a/n: this is an odd series but um. yeah I don’t know. but nevertheless thank you so much for the support of this little series! it means a lot !

pls pls gimmie requests! ya girl is dying from writer’s block and I neeeeed ideassss pleaseee

warnings- nsfw, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, untranslated spanish, a lil bit of angst, third and final part to gone and holy shock! (idk how to make warnings 😭)

- 1: gone -2: holy shock

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“What the hell? He doesn’t mean it, according to you?”

Peter probably tried to make you feel better with that. But he didn’t. He didn’t mean it? Was it a prank? Because it’s a shitty ass prank if it was.

“Yup! Just talk to him about it!!” Peter said enthusiastically.

“But if he didn’t mean it?”

“Miguel’s all bark-“

“No, he isn’t!” you said, your voice cracking immensely. You started to cry a little bit more. “He hurt me with that, Peter.”

Peter’s gaze softened as he gave you another hug to your sobbing figure.

“He hurt me so so bad with that. Notes are usually supposed to be small and have a small affect on a person. Usually it’s positive but goddamn.”

“It’s okay, kid.” He said, rubbing your back.

You sniffled and stood up from where you were sitting. The sky was already starting to turn into an indigo color and that was your sign to go home.

And cry, of course.

“Peter, I think it’s best if I go back home…”

“Okay, here, hold the baby,” He said as he held out Mayday in front of you, giving you a dopey smile.

You smiled slightly, “What?”

“It’ll make you feel better. This kid’s got some superpowers, man.”

You held Mayday and smiled at the redhead child. “She’s as beautiful as MJ.”

You gave Mayday a hug and gave her back to Peter.

“See ya tomorrow, kid. Talk to him, okay?” Peter said, giving you a stern look.

“Okay. Bye, Peter. Thank you,” you said, waving goodbye and opening an opening to your universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Yeah okay, he’s totally way outta line!”

Peter decided to tell MJ what happened. He didn’t know how to exactly help you so he decided to ask MJ.

MJ fumed because she met you a few times and you had her full respect. She didn’t care that Peter was friends with Miguel, she was pissed.

He’s not good at being a friendship therapist.

“I told her to just talk to him. I’m not sure I did the right thing though,” Peter frowned and glanced over at Mayday who was sleeping peacefully, snuggling with her Spider-man plush.

“I think you did the right thing. I mean aren’t they dating?”

Peter jerked his head towards MJ and widened his eyes. “Wait what?”

She nodded, “Peter, it sounds like Y/n and Miguel are having trouble in paradise.”

“WOAH THERE. Miguel? The grumpy, stompy, depressed guy? With Y/n? The also grumpy but as much of an ass as Miguel girl? What?”

MJ laughed. “Well Peter, I assumed because whenever you talked about them before, those two always seemed a little too close to be just friends?”

Peter had an epiphany, “Holy shiitake mushrooms…”

“The way they look at each other…You thought they were friends, Peter?”

Peter looked shocked, “THAT’S WHAT Y/N TOLD ME!”

MJ scoffed, “Maybe they are. But I don’t know, Peter! Friends don’t exactly do that!”

“WHAT?”

MJ went over to Peter and held his shoulder. “Just let them be okay? I trust whatever Y/n is going to do.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You teleported to your universe, ending up on the top of your apartment building. You accidentally tripped and cut your leg on a piece of metal on the ground. “Ah, fuck.”

You limped to your apartment and turned on the living room lights just a bit, enough for you to see where to go.

You went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and jumped as you turned on the bathroom lights.

“Are you alright?”

The hairs on your neck stood up as you stared at him behind you from the mirror. You felt chills across your spine as you made eye contact with his crimson red eyes.

He turned you around by the shoulders so you would look at him in the face. “I asked you if you’re alright?”

“How did you get in here.” You said, your voice cold and stern, making his eyes soften.

“You had your window open and the lights are on.”

“That doesn’t give you an invitation to come in.”

He shrugged. “It gave you an invitation last time.”

You frowned and tried to free yourself from his grasp. “Fuck you. Leave me the fuck alone-”

“Y/n, let me explain-”

Your eyes widened angrily. “Didn’t you want me GONE from your life? What the fuck happened to that? YOU LEFT ME!”

Miguel froze and stood back from you. You were already a crying mess from before and he noted how puffy your eyes were from your living room’s dim lighting.

All the sadness disappeared and all you felt was anger.

“Do you know how much I cared for you? And all you do is leave me and leave me a pathetic little note that you hate me?” You then walked over to him and slapped him. “How fucking DARE you.”

His eyes pierced through you as he whispered. “Cared? So you don’t anymore…?”

“Oh I didn’t say that. I hate myself for still caring for you, right now,” you said, feeling tears spill from your eyes again.

He put his hands in his face in frustration. “I did that because I care for you. I don’t want you to be hurt if you were to be with me, or for me to be hurt if I lose you.”

You looked at him and pouted, “Oh really, Miguel? You care for me?”

His face softened. “Yeah, cariño.”

Your face shifted to a calm look. “You still hurt me either way, you fucking idiot. You think i’m going to take that lameass excuse?”

He froze. “I hurt you?”

You smiled sadistically, “Did you think I was going to smile and laugh after seeing that bullshit? Oh ‘I want you gone from my life’ ahahaha! Give me a fucking break.”

You never thought you’d see the day Miguel O’Hara would go on his knees and start sobbing.

For you.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want to hurt you,” he sobbed.

You felt a little cruel for wanting to laugh at his face. How was he going to fuck you and hurt you a few hours later?

That shit doesn’t make sense.

The silence was loud, giving you time to think until you finally spoke.

“How sorry are you?”

He looked up from his position and stared at you. “You can’t imagine how sorry I am.”

You smiled at him, “Show me how sorry you are.” You said calmly.

You held a staring contest with him as you took your suit off, showing off your toned body, leaving little to the imagination with your red panties and blue bra.

His concerned look turned dark yet he still froze.

It matched his suit.

You lead him on the couch and cradled him once he sat down.

“C’mon, babyyy. Show me!” you moaned, going to kiss his neck as you feel a wave of his cologne hit your nose.

It was your favorite cologne.

You felt adrenaline go through your veins. You didn’t know what else to do and remembered how good last night felt, although the end isn’t what you wanted.

It was irrational and impulsive, you know that. But he wanted you to forgive him and he did say he’ll do anything.

“Ay dios…Fuck-“ he groaned as you grinded against his erected member, making your pussy throb even more.

He stretched his arm to press the button on his watch to take off his suit, leaving him naked.

You panted and smiled. “So you really are naked under there? Thought it was just me being delusional.”

He smirked and licked his lips. “It’s all real, baby.”

You bit your lips as his lips started to big in your neck and breasts, leaving more bites. “Show me how sorry you really are, hermoso. F-Fuck!”

He steadily fingered and abused your throbbing clit as your soft moans fueled him to go even faster.

He then stood up and turned you around to gain some support from the couch as your ass faced him. You felt your panties and bra be ripped off by his claws.

“F-Fuck you, that was my favorite pair.”

“Aw? Was it because it reminded you of me?” He laughed, his dick grazing your wet vagina.

“J-Just put it in already, O’Hara!” you screamed, grabbing his dick yourself and putting it in. The both of you moaned as pleasure shot through both of you.

“H-Harder, O’Hara! Show m-me how much you’re sorry!”

He started slapping your ass continuously as he went in and out of you. He started groaning as you were grinding against him again, “Asi, mami. Fuckkkk.”

You felt him twitch and immediately took him out of you. He looked at you angrily. “Pa’que haces eso?!”

“Not my fault you were going to come already. It’s been what? 30 seconds? Can’t you go longer?” you teased.

You switched positions and faced him as you had your legs spread out. He held them in order to then go into you again, only much more aggressive and faster.

You smiled and kissed him as he went aggressive on your sensitive pussy. “Mmmm fuck…”

He grabbed onto your legs a little too strong, making you wince from your injury from earlier but he still kept going and going.

You felt him smile in the kiss too and he went even faster.

The room was filled with a symphony of skin slapping and moaning, with the occasional curses Miguel let out in Spanish.

It felt so wrong, but so fucking good.

“P-Princesa please. I’m gonna come-“ he said as he painted your walls and insides white once again. Shortly after, you reached your high and was grinding on him once again.

“Oh-Oh fuckkk Miguel!” you couldn’t help but claw at his shoulders from the pleasure crash you were experiencing.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, princesa,” he said, as he carried you there.

He placed you on top of him as he entered in you again and you started riding his dick, which was hard again.

You started to make out with him again and moaned in the kiss. “Mmm fuck. Just like that, baby.”

He grabbed and squeezed your ass before he started spanking and he left your ass with several imprints of his hands.

He started attacking your breasts and massaged them as you rode his dick even faster.

You felt him twitch again as you clenched on his dick and smiled. “So soon?”

He threw his head back and grunted, “S-Shock-“

You laughed as he finished again, leaving the in between of your legs a sticky, white mess once more.

You went for a few more rounds until he tired himself out and knocked out.

“Already so tired, Miguel?” you said as he spooned you. He groaned as a response and closed his eyes.

This is what you always wanted; being in his arms as he protected you. The sex was just the cherry on top to a good fantasy come reality.

“I love you, cariño,” he whispered as he then fell asleep.

You smiled at him and stayed like that. You waited until you were certain he was knocked out and let yourself go from his grasp.

Lucky for you, you had an expresso shot so you didn’t feel so tired. You just felt a bit sore.

You took a quick shower and suited up with a new accessory you made.

You went over to your bedroom, being met with Miguel still knocked out in your bed. You smiled at the sight as he snored a bit.

“I’m just going to leave you a little note here if that’s okay? I’ll get going, cariño.”

“I’ll be gone for now, ” You kissed his forehead again while leaving a note next to his side of the bed along with your watch. You watched him for a bit before your face and tone went cold.

You went down to his level and whispered darkly as you smiled.

“I quit.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it!” Peter was pacing around outside of Miguel’s office and has been for 10 minutes.

MJ had Mayday for the day and Peter felt remorse for you, so he was going to stick up for you.

He felt bad that you went through this.

He understood Miguel was an ass to the average person but you two were friends to crying out loud!

It wasn’t until the door opened, revealing a fuming Miguel, stomping towards Peter.

“O-Oh h-hey Miguel-“

Miguel glared at Peter and scoffed, “Cut the shit, Peter. Where the fuck is Y/l/n?”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. Where. Is. She? Lyla?”

Lyla popped out from behind him and saluted, “Yes sir?”

“Find Y/l/n. I need to speak with her.”

Lyla frowned, “I’m trying but Miguel, she doesn’t have her watch and I can’t find her!”

Miguel looked even more upset. “THEN TRY HARDER!” Lyla’s eyes widened as she started to look even further, tracking your dimension history.

“U-Uh Miguel ? Are you alright?” Peter was a little frightened.

It’s obvious how terrifying Miguel O’Hara is when he’s angry.

“You. You were the last person to see her before-“ He stopped himself and bit his lip.

“You were just the last person to see her. Where is she?”

Peter frowned, “Well isn’t she in her dimension?”

“YOU THINK I HAVEN’T TRIED LOOKING THERE?”

Peter frowned at Miguel. “W-Well, if you weren’t such an asshole to her, maybe this wouldn’t have never had happ-“

Miguel pointed at Peter angrily, “Don’t you dare tell me what to do. You’re the last person I want to be lectured by.”

He turned around and walked back into his office, before Lyla spoke.

“I think I have something?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You smiled as you enjoyed the scenery of Nueva York once again, enjoying an empanada.

Alone.

Your heart stung. It would have been better with Miguel. You already got your revenge but he probably doesn’t care enough to say something.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Hola mi amor!” Doña Rosa greeted, waving at your entrance. “The usual?”

You nodded as you smiled. “Yes, please. Just one though.” She nodded and went into the kitchen.

Doña Rosa’s husband pointed at you, confused. “Donde está ese chavo? Miguel, is it?”

As Doña Rosa finished packing up, she nodded. “Yeah mija! Something happened?”

You nodded. “It’s nothing! Don’t worry!”

Doña Rosa and her husband looked at each other and smiled at you.

“Whatever’s going on, I’m sure everything will be alright!”

“Hopefully, señora…Hopefully.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stopped munching on your empanada as you felt your Spider sense go off, but ignored it, thinking it was a bird.

That is, until you saw two web shots in a scarlet orange in your direction.

“Y/L/N!” Your body froze as you heard that familiar scream from behind you. He sounded so angry.

You had your suit but had a sweater on top. Which happened to be his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to give it back and it’s really comfortable.

You stood up and backed away.

He had his suit, except his mask, revealing his angry face.

Maybe you were being delusional again but it looked like he was crying.

“Miguel-“

He went over to you and hugged you, stuffing his face in your hair. He’s always liked the smell of your hair.

“I’m so sorry. I’m really really sorry.” he muttered, hugging you tighter.

You didn’t know what to say. You just stood there frozen.

“I- I just didn’t want you hurt and what I did was selfish but I didn’t know how hurt you felt until you did the same to me. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

You felt him tremble a bit, maybe because he was crying again. You heard his voice crack again.

“Please forgive me…” You patted his back and smiled.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry too.”

He smiled. “I see you’re wearing my sweater,” he pulled on the drawstring and laughed.

“It’s just comforting, don’t take it to heart, O’Hara-“

Lyla popped out and rolled her eyes. “Just kiss at this point. It shouldn’t be hard considering you two did other things. Or might I say, each ot-“

Miguel pulled back and rolled his eyes. “That’s enough, Lyla.”

Lyla looked at you. “It wasn’t hard to also find you since your watch had a different signal than the others and-“

“LYLA!”

She scoffed. “Geez okay!”

He looked back at you with sorrow written on his face. He finally held out his hand in front of you and smiled.

“Are you willing to give us a shot?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

y’all choose your ending xo 😘

idk what I j wrote here but woo hoo! gone is finally complete!

pls pls pls send in writing requests in my profileeee!!! thank you <3

tags ❤️‍🔥 -

@viriexo @voldemort-is-bi @catr4dora @ushygushybaby @leftcupcakedefendor

[cashmakozume]

dumpster love

once upon a time (tf is blue flavoured ୨ৎ)

⟡ m.list

you felt everything in slow motion. the way the bag of sweets you bought for the team fell onto the ground first and you saw the ground get closer. you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact and you hit the ground, embarrassed.

you can hear kuroo's cackle as you lay on the ground and you made a mental note to smack him later. you didn't want to move, you'd rather have the ground crack open and swallow you whole than to face your friends, who clearly are enjoying the show.

"hey, are you okay?"

a voice broke you out of your thoughts. you forgot that you ran into an actual human being. you quickly got up and started apologizing immediately.

"holy shit, i'm so sorry!" you rambled. "i wasn't looking at where i was going and i just fucking ran i'm so- fuck i'm sorry i feel so bad-"

"hey hey it's fine! you're the one who fell." the stranger chuckled.

you started picking up the candy that was left on the ground and the stranger helped you pick up the last few straggling packets.

"thank you, and i'm really sorry about earlier." you smiled at him.

you gave him a wave goodbye and started running towards the gym, where your friends were waiting.

"fucking hell," kuroo started. "that was the funniest thing i've seen all day." he choked out, struggling to even say a few words as he was laughing at your misery.

yaku had tears streaming down his face and kenma was just looking at you with a smile while reaching out for the candy he wanted.

"dude, it was so fucking embarrassing. i didn't even know the guy." you passed kenma the entire bag.

you dragged yaku by his shirt and entered the gym. you were starting to calm down a little and decided to just accept your fate that the three of them would tell the rest of the team what happened and you would be hearing it till the end of time. if it's not the entire team, it would definitely be yaku not letting you live it down.

"hello, thank you for having us!" a familiar voice echoed in the hall.

you froze for a moment and turned around to see the guy you ran into, standing at the entrance of the gym. yaku followed your eyes and started to laugh even harder than before and all you wanted was for god to smite you.

you ran into your new school mate.

⟡ inch resting...

⟡ the entire nekoma vbc loves their sweet little treats

⟡ coach nekomata appreciates that you come down for practice even though you don't have to

⟡ tbh he also wonders why you don't want to be manager

note from miyako

written chapter so quick into a smau i'm so sorry BUT IDK HOW ELSE TO DO IT SUE ME

✗⚬ﾒ𝟶, m ♡

⟡ taglist goes here

[comment that you want to be in!] [unable to tag in italics]

@rinheartshyunlix @cloberrii @staygoldsquatchling02

[enid-rhees]

hi :) can you do an enid x reader where reader and enid are about to do the nasty (idk how else to put it 😭) in the woods and when they both have their shirts off a walker finds them and they have to run back to the wall without their shirts on 😭 ty and ur stories are super good 🫶🏽

i can’t tell you how hard i laughed when i read this. i was playing animal crossing and i look over at my phone bc it lit up and i saw this and just . could not stop laughing 😭. i hope you enjoy! and tysm 🫶🏻🫶🏻

warnings: very suggestive content! everything leads up to them almost having sex so it’s very suggestive. MINORS DNI !! (vv second part of the request)

your back hit the tree behind you and Enid kept you pinned to it, connecting your lips messily. you wrapped your arms over her neck, pulling her impossibly close to you.

she briefly parted from you to kiss down your neck, leaving marks wherever she felt like it. a sigh of content and pleasure left your lips. Enid started to unbutton the loose flannel you wore. you started to do the same, unbuttoning the buttons and allowing the flannels to fall to the ground beneath you.

her hand reached down, rubbing your clothed clit. with the rough material of your jeans, you rutted your hips against her hand, begging for more friction.

you extended your thigh out, pressing Enid against it. she gasped at the sudden pleasure, keeping her face in your marked neck.

she grabbed your jaw, keeping you in place as she connected your lips once more, slowly grinding herself on you as you moved faster against her fingers.

Enid started to undo the buttons on your jeans, pulling them off one at a time. before she could pull them off, branches on the ground started to crack. you disconnected from each other, eyes widening as you saw a walker approaching to both of you.

the two of you rushed to grab your flannels from the ground, slipping them back on as you ran back to the gate. you both stopped in front of the gate, trying to button your shirts back up. as you were halfway done, the gate slowly opened. revealing Rick, Michonne, Tara and Daryl.

you froze, staring at them with wide eyes. Rick raised his eyebrows as the others stood frozen, not knowing what to say.

“don’t tell me you had sex in the woods.” Daryl spoke up, his deep rasped voice full of disbelief. he didn’t want to even think about it. you repeatedly shook your head.

“no! no thats not-“ the same walker emerged from the woods again, coming towards you and Enid. Enid took her knife out, driving it into the walkers head.

Michonne raised her head, smirking at both of you. “i know what happened.” you gave her a pleading face, “Michonne-“

“they were about to do it in the woods when that walker appeared.” she told the other three. you looked at them with literal fear in your eyes, knowing there was no way to get out of this anymore.

Tara bursted out laughing, and was soon followed by Rick and Michonne. Daryl shook his head at the two of you. “you guys really couldn’t just… use your bedroom?” Rick asked, trying to hold in more laughter.

“holy shit guys, look at her!” Tara laughed, pointing at the marks that littered your neck. “oh my god. you did that Enid?!” Michonne shouted.

she covered her face, turning away from them to try and save herself from the embarrassment. you started to finish buttoning up the rest of your flannel.

“we will never speak of this again.” you told them, pointing a finger at them. “this stays between us.”

Michonne snorted, “yeah, nice try. there’s no way in hell we’re keeping this a secret. this is too funny. you tried to have sex in the woods during an apocalypse and thought nothing would happen. i don’t think you understand how funny that is.”

when you and Enid stayed silent, Tara’s eyes widened again. “they’ve already done it in the woods before.”

you felt your face burn as laughter filled the air again. “oh, you guys are not going to hear the end of this.”

[archangelsammy]

archangelsammy's supernatural fic recs! <3

keep in mind that there's gonna be a lot of random stuff here. I read pretty much anything and everything. do keep in mind the tags before you read! if you don't like a fic/ship that's here, then don't read it. I don't want to see any hate here please.

short fics <5,000w

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise (Sam/Lucifer)

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been. Season 7, Sam & Hallucifer. References to torture, more gen than shippy.

flutter by real-placebo-effect (Sam/Michael)

Suddenly, Sam sees where Gabriel gets it from. It's almost endearing. Cute and sweet, set in early season 7. Canon divergence.

[record scratch, freeze frame] yep. that's me, plummeting into hell. you might be wondering how i got myself into this situation. well, it all started when i was born by kbaycolt (Sam/Lucifer)

The fall to Hell takes seven days. Post-episode Swan Song, angst. Short, and open ending.

just say by real-placebo-effect (Sam/Lucifer)

He won't say it so he doesn't say anything. Sam unravels anyway. Short, sweet, and shippy.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws by sparklylulz (Sam/Lucifer)

He wonders if he’ll go to Hell for sympathizing with the devil. Great Sam characterization.

speaking by maplewix (Sam/Lucifer)

Sam teaches Lucifer how to talk with his hands. Lucifer teaches Sam about angels. Sam is deaf, and Lucifer is mute. Unfinished but worth it.

and so the tower fell by thequietwings (Sam/Lucifer)

Lucifer taught Sam how to speak Enochian in the Cage. Really is angst masquerading as cute scenes. Podfic available!

Find Me At The End of Time by River_of_Dreams (Sam & Lucifer)

Sam Winchester wakes up in the Cage, knowing he's just condemned himself to an eternity of torture. But Lucifer has defied expectations since the beginnings of Time. He will do it again at its end. Post-episode Swan Songs, can be read as pre-slash.

at the end of the day by sharpbluejay (Sam/Lucifer, Chuck & Lucifer)

You do not, under any circumstances, have to hand it to the Devil, except when you do.

Or it turns out that watching the Devil confront God (with a capital G) reminds Sam a little too much of himself yelling at John. This is a strange thing to notice as the world is ending. Says slash, but can be read as gen. Post-episode 11x22 We Happy Few.

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity by barryallenistheflash (Sam & Jack)

Jack begins to sense there's something not quite right.

Oh, no.

There's something

terribly,

awfully

wrong.

omg brilliant. alternate s14.

Twenty Steps by piglet (rethira) (Sam/Lucifer)

So, you accidentally married the Devil. As it says on the tin! crack, hilarious.

choosing, not ceasing by mythpoetry (Sam/Lucifer)

Sam lets the devil ride him out of hell. It's not the worst idea he's ever had. Beautiful scene towards the end. s5 Lucifer characterisation.

Holy by maplewix (Sam/Lucifer)

“No, that’s not possible, the world’s changed since—since the beginning, Pangea and—”

"Not the holy places," Lucifer said quietly.

can be read as gen, religious symbolism & crying.

Demons Aren't Mice (but Neither are they Men) by ohjustdisarmalready (Sam & Castiel & Crowley)

Crowley and Sam make a book club in the dungeon. Castiel is a part-time member. So much symbolism. References to literature, but you don't need to have read them.

long-ish fics 5,000w-10,000w

Falling Down by ophan (message me your email if you'd like a copy of ophans works) (Sam/Lucifer)

Sam says, 'Are you going to do it? Are you going to try and burn the world again?'

When Lucifer replies his voice is just as Sam remembers it. Low and musing, but also hoarse now, and filled with something fractured and brittle. It's shocking, in every way. A s9 canon-divergent fic with s5 Lucifer characterization.

Night Moves by Safiyabat (Sam/Lucifer)

Lucifer visits Sam in his dreams as the Apocalypse rages around them. While he should be trying to convince Sam to say "Yes," Sam soon finds that the Adversary isn't exactly adversarial. Done with the prompt 'classic rock,' loved the way music features in this.

someone to eat the fruit by anon (Sam/Lucifer)

The Cage is not what Sam expects. Interesting take on the cage - seems dark but is actually light-hearted.

Regrettable Situations in Storage Room 3 by occasionally_always (Sam/Castiel)

It’s not easy to get to the Farmers Market in the middle of a pandemic, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Sam would do anything to get some fresh air and sunlight, Cas really, really wants his organic honey, and most importantly, Dean’s not home to stop them. Humor & domestic. Can be read as gen too.

The Courtship of Sam Winchester by twicefivemiles (Sam/Lucifer)

While away from Dean and working a job he hates to forget a past he hates more, the last thing Sam needs is an unwanted suitor in his room every night. So sweet and good. Set around 5x03.

thou shalt not covet by sonatine (Sam/Lucifer, unrequited Sam/Castiel)

The irony is that Lucifer’s vessel — Nick — is exactly the kind of guy Sam would try to pick up. Tall but not scrawny; the kind of brawny Midwest farm stock that Dean, who prefers natty dressers with elegant faces (Cas) or someone who looks like they crawled out of Donner’s Pass (Benny), would curl his lip at. Sam would like to deny that he has a type, but his history of ex-lovers tells a story of sharp eyes, sharper smiles, and an intellect like a battering ram that he can throw himself against. This is thee fic of all time. Actually got me to ship Sam/Lucifer.

long fics 10,000w-50,000w

Love in Twelve Acts by sparxwrites (Sam/Lucifer)

It's hard not to love someone when you know their life story. Lucifer, like all angels, can travel in time; what he sees in the past changes him. Really interesting fic, well worth the read.

The Fourth Wall Series by entanglednow (Dean/Cas, Sam/Lucifer)

The guys explore the joys of fanfiction. Brilliantly done, some beautiful moments in this series.

the crucifix was constructed wrong by tigriswolf (Sam & Dean, no ships)

Sam time travels from the end of Swan Song to midway through No Rest for the Wicked. Ain’t nobody’s plans left intact.

He opens his eyes. Uncurls, glances at the candles, the symbols. “Ruby,” he murmurs. Smiles slowly.

Resumes the ritual.

fell down, threw up by goodnightfern (Cas/Dean, Sam/Lucifer)

The spell works on all of the angels and Lucifer's punishment continues. As for Sam? He's gotta be hallucinating again. (AU after 8.23)

Monsters Out of Time by KillerofHope (Sam/Lucifer)

God vanishes with his sister, Sam finds himself waiting at the bunker for Dean. But Lucifer arrives first, feeling just as lost as Sam.

A relationship snaps into place that both don't want to feel guilty about. s11 divergence, very light-hearted for the ship that it is.

How to Fall by alas_horatio (Sam/Lucifer)

When a spell goes wrong Sam ends up stranded in the north Canadian wilderness with nothing to do but bunker down and wait for rescue, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the broken angel he's accidentally brought along for the ride. So well done, one of the best Sam/Lucifer fics out there.

Pyrphoros by lumpy-space-princess (Sam/Lucifer)

And thus did he who was called Forethought descend from the mountain with a fistful of fire, a boon of civilization to all Mankind.

Three tales, of three gifts, told in three parts. Just amazing.

Smoke and Mirrors by itallstartedwithdefenestration (Sam/Lucifer)

Sam spends most of his dreams with Lucifer trying to prove that they're nothing alike. Until he realizes that they are, and that maybe, just maybe, he's sick of denying it.

Tangible by glassedplanets (Sam/Lucifer, Dean/Cas)

Wherein Sam's got the Devil whispering in his ear and he's well and truly fucked. Picks up after 7x15 and diverges from canon.

super long fics 50,000w-150,000w

A Young Writer Marked for Death by lysanatt (Sam/Lucifer, Michael/Adam)

Being an aspiring writer in Paris isn't easy, and with Adam wasting away from consumption, Sam's life sure is difficult. It could be worse, though: Adam could be dead or they could both be back in Kansas where they would end up in jail. Monsieur Lucifer could have asked them to leave Le Cabaret Perdu when he discovered the less than flattering poem that Adam wrote about him. Instead Sam makes a surprising deal with Lucifer that is going to change Adam's life — and his own. Sort-of Moulin Rouge AU with a happy ending.

The Light Beyond The Glass by ophan (Sam/Lucifer) (message me for the link)

There's a new Leviathan-eating monster on the loose, and Sam and Dean need to stop it before it starts eating humans. Trouble is, it can only be killed by an archangel. Luckily, Sam's found a summoning spell to take care of that. A s7 canon divergence fic with s5 Lucifer characterization.

Some Kind of Home by SansPellegrino (Sam/Lucifer, Dean/Cas)

In which Sam gets kicked out of his own house and ends up being taken in by the Miltons; a somewhat dysfunctional family of seven held together by the two eldest brothers in the absence of their parents. Sam's plan is to stay with them until Dean comes home from serving in Afghanistan, and then he'll return to Stanford. But, as usual, other things just get in the way.

Stairway to Heaven by clowns_or_midgets, jadeys-world, snarkymuch (Sam/Lucifer)

AU. To save his brother, Sam makes a deal with the devil. The creature he expects and the man he actually encounters are two different beings, and soon he will have to choose between what he knows is right and what his heart desires.

Due Cause by alas_horatio (Sam/Lucifer, Dean/Cas)

Sam gets his first job at the law firm of his dreams, which just happens to be the workplace of his law-school idol, who in real life is a good deal more cynical and a great deal more creepy than he might have imagined. Also: Cas runs a snack cart. Also: Dean helps.

Who Do You Think You're Fooling? by all_the_kings_ham (Sam/Lucifer)

Just because you can find help on the side of the road doesn't mean that Sam has to accept that help with out reservations.

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot by all_the_kings_ham (Sam/Lucifer)

It was such a simple plan.

How did it go so wrong so fast?

bad moon rising by gone_girl (no ships)

There are many American cults of worship, and none of them will ever have a place for the Winchester brothers. Arab Winchesters! Really good.

That's all folks! Leave a kudos/bookmark on the fics if you like them! This list is all thanks to @quietwingsinthesky and @godsprettiestprincess over on the archangel discord so thanks guys for the motivation <3

[alabasterplasterart]

Parabiosis : Stanley Parable longfic

I've been writing up a Stanley Parable fic all with my own interpretations and ideas of the wider world beyond what the game explores. I adore the dynamic between The Narrator and Stanley and all of the vague gesturing towards how their digital space functions.

So I've put my own spin on a bunch of it, including themes and concepts inspired by other uber cool creators in this fandom like @queenburd , @alexis-royce , and @qcumbersodazz !

I've got the first few chapters written up, so I'll drop those in gradually. I'll be posting those future chapters on A03. The first two short chapters are under the cut. Thanks!

Prologue

He let out a breath and metaphorically dusted his hands off as he looked over his story. He was confident now that it was full-proof. It had been padded, sealed, and locked up everywhere that had caused problems before. Nothing was getting through the cracks this time.

He turned his attention to the screen.

A man was leaning back in an office chair, head dropped back, eyes closed as he slowly turned himself side to side. He should’ve been working, but every day he spent almost a collective hour of every shift doing this. Daydreaming or zoning out or whatever was going on. Boredom, likely. A complete disinterest in the work he was supposed to be focused on. A disconnect from his world.

The man’s unseen watcher smiled and reached himself into the screen.

Show time.

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

Loop 2

At first, he hadn’t been worried. Just..confused, but willing to play along with this weird lucid dream. But as his eyes darted around the massive screen, watching big bolded red numbers counting down, it really struck him that something wasn’t right.

“And believe me, I will be laughing at every second of your inevitable life, from the moment we fade in to the moment I say: Happily Ever A-”

And then, Stanley experienced a sensation of loss. Like watching a dropped coin roll into a grate. Then he woke up.

Stanley shot back in the chair, nearly toppling it from the force. He sucked in a breath so sharp in hurt his throat and he clutched at his chest. For a half a second, he’d heard it. The sound of tremendous force ripping through concrete and steel. But he wasn’t gone. He was back in the office he started at, staring at an empty, outdated computer monitor. And omnipresent around him, the disembodied voice that had just berated him for several minutes was repeating dialogue.

But Stanley didn’t follow it this time. He just sat there, taking stock of what had just happened. There was no way this was a dream anymore, not with how..awake he felt. What in the holy hell could this be otherwise though?!

“You’re in a story Stanley. A story, I’ll remind you, that you veered off track at the very last step. Do you know how absolutely rude that is? How disruptive it is to go all the way to the end of something before deciding you’ve got better things to do? The least you could do to make up for it would be to listen this time. Are you capable of following through to the end this time, or are you going to get cold feet again?”

Stanley pushed up hard from the desk, sending the chair spinning away from him. He opened his mouth to yell back and-

Nothing. No words. He mouthed them, but stopped himself a word into the sentence. He grabbed at his hair and growled in his throat before throwing the office door open. He could still make noise at least.

“Oh good, you’re out of your office. A great first step, Stanley, you’re well on your way to a marvellous second attempt. Bra-vo.”

He yelled out again and spun around, gesturing up to nobody at the ceiling. What the fuck was going on, why couldn’t he talk? And where was this condescending sonuvabitch coming from? Because if he fucking showed himself Stanley would be throwing hands.

“You’re in my story, Stanley, I’ve already told you that. My, you’re proving to be a very poor listener. I’m The Narrator, and my job is to tell you where to go next. Your job is to follow those simple orders. Have you got all that or need I repeat myself, again?”

Stanley was about to snap back when he locked up. Hold on a minute. He hadn’t said anything. How did..?

“I can hear you just fine Stanley, voice or not. Though, I’m not sure why you’re unable to speak out loud. You should be able to..” the voice faded backwards, as if leaning away from a microphone. A moment later it came back clear. “Oh well. I’ll be honest I’m not in a hurry to solve that particular problem. You seem to be a handful enough as it is, without being able to talk back out loud.”

Stanley blinked and set his jaw firm. This asshole was..reading his thoughts? That was insanely fucking invasive!

“Well it’s how you’ll be communicating to me from now on, so get used to it.” The voice- or, The Narrator, as his puffed up ass had called himself -dipped his tone low and Stanley glowered nowhere in particular. No. There was no fucking way he was just going to go along with this, this was delusional. He was delusional, he had to be. Where the hell was he and where was the exit. He spun around and, after looking over his limited options, just decided to start trying doors.

“Oh, fantastic. Wasting more time that we could be using to get back on track. They’re locked, Stanley, all of them. If I wanted you to go in every single office I would’ve left the doors open. It’s a very clear system to indicate where to go next, I’m not sure why you’re having so much trouble understanding it.”

Can you shut your trap for one goddamn minute?! Stanley didn’t give a flying fuck about this Narrator’s ‘story’, he just wanted out. And one of these doors somewhere was bound to take him there.

“Did you consider that perhaps the ending I had planned and was taking you to was the exit, Stanley? You were right there, one button press away! Freedom was within your reach and you squandered it at the last moment. All for what, a sense of control? Of agency? Well I hope you got your sense of control, Stanley, because your death is about as much agency as you’re going to get here.”

Stanley looked up at the ceiling and stopped. Was that a threat?

“A promise, Stanley. I’m in control here. You should get used to that as soon as possible so we can get back on schedule.”

Stanley ground his teeth together and turned away from the doors, stomping off down the office hallways. If death was his only way to establish agency then so be it. It didn’t seem to take, so he’d shoot that bullet at this self-important Narrator as many times as it took to, to..fuck, he didn’t know. He just knew he was angry and where a very easy to jump off bridge was in this godsforsaken place.

There was a sigh. “Well, if you’re headed back to the Mind Control Facility, then at least you’ll have the chance to correct your previous mistake. Maybe try taking some soothing breaths on the way there, calm yourself down before we reach that crucial point in the story.”

Stanley started towards the door on the left but stopped as The Narrator was talking. His chest was rising and falling fast and heavy and his mind was working overtime to have a clear coherent thought. But he had enough clarity to make the calculated decision to go as out of his way as he could from that predetermined path The Narrator was trying to take him down. Stanley pivoted on his heel and entered through the door on the right.

“No, no, no, what are you doing? Argh, you’re being so difficult, you know that Stanley? I put a lot of time and work into this story and you’re just spitting in the face of it before you’ve even seen it all! Do you make such snap judgements about everything you come across or did you save this particular treatment for me?”

Shut up!! Shut! UP! Stanley swung his fist hard into the wall beside him, shaking a painting nearby and hurting his hand like hell. But the tingling in the side of his hand wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He just heard ringing in his ears and felt a hot tightness in his throat. He stood there, waiting for another sarcastic comment, another condescending insult. But this time, there was nothing. At least for a few moments.

“Hm. Well..” The Narrator finally said, prompting an exaggerated eye roll and sharp sigh from Stanley. He kept on forward, and as he rounded a few corners and passed through a very blue themed break room, The Narrator tried to rectify.

“Listen Stanley, I see that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. By now I’m sure you can see how wrong of you it was to veer my story off track at the last moment, I needn’t go on about it any longer. But perhaps you’ll be good enough to work with me to make up for it. To set things right.” Ahead of him, down a long hallway, a door on the left opened of its own accord. He slowed but didn’t stop walking entirely.

“Cut through here Stanley and we can get back on track. I can acknowledge that perhaps I was too quick to expect a perfect run from you on your first go around. That was unprofessional of me, I deeply apologize.” Stanley scoffed at the lazily hidden sarcasm and continued past the opened door. “But if we can just- Stanley, Stanley no the meeting room is this way- Stanley!”

But Stanley didn’t stop. He stepped down a few concrete steps out of the small room the hallway connected to and found himself in an OSHA agent’s nightmare of a warehouse room. Floor to ceiling shelves with boxes all the way up, easily a few stories tall. And with not nearly enough guardrails.

Stanley grinned to himself and strode with purpose towards the platform’s edge.

“W-wait, Stanley, Stanley think about this. Do you really want to leap to your certain death, simply to spite me? There’s other solutions to this, I implore you to really stop and-”

Stanley gave a middle finger salute to the ceiling and swung a leg out over the edge, letting gravity do the rest. He heard the first note of a ‘No!’ before it all went black.

And he experienced a sensation of loss. Like something falling out of your pocket without you realizing it. And then he woke up.

The ghost sensation of pain lingered faintly across his body but dissipated as he adjusted. He was back at the desk, staring at the empty monitor. He heard The Narrator clear his throat.

“If that’s out of your system, I’d like to move on now.”

Not so tough now huh, fucker? Stanley chuckled to himself and stood up, rolling up his sleeves and ditching his tie on the ground as he briskly moved through the office. The Narrator, with an edge of unease to his words, tried to slip back into the usual script of each area. Though again, Stanley took the right hand door upon reaching the junction.

This time though, he didn’t get back talk. Just another few scripted lines trying to get him back on track. As Stanley ignored the shortcut again though, there was a curt sigh.

“Stanley, honestly, this is..well, it’s uncalled for.”

What do you care, I don’t seem to die here.

“That isn’t the problem Stanley, it-” The Narrator grumbled in his throat and huffed. “Stanley I feel that we can sort out this problem with talking. A quiet, calm discussion between two mature minds. You don’t need to resort to this to make your point. I truly do want the best for you Stanley, honest, and if you’d just give me the chance to prove it, I can show you. You just need to step back from the ledge.”

The plea seemed genuine, but Stanley wasn’t about to forget what else The Narrator had also said in earnest. Not half an hour ago- or however long it was, with these odd resets -The Narrator had gleefully blown Stanley up because he’d pressed the wrong button. Didn’t matter if death was permanent or not, that was terrifying and beyond sadistic. This moment of ‘maturity’ wasn’t overriding that.

“I understand your reservations Stanley, I hear them loud and clear, and believe me I intend to fully make up for all of your grievances in due time. Here,” Stanley heard a door open back in the small adjoining room. “Come back through, we’ll get back to the two doors, and we can work off a clean slate. New beginnings, a fresh start, doesn’t that sound nice Stanley? It seems a much better option that hurling yourself to your death over and over, does it not?”

Stanley glanced back through the window to the hallway now reopened for him. Then he looked back down. What was waiting for him back at those doors, really? What was The Narrator hoping to gain here? It really seemed like he just wanted to send Stanley through the same looping story over and over, never deviating, just to satisfy his own ego. Stanley didn’t know if there was anything else to this office. But he certainly wasn’t going to find out by walking the same path ad infinitum.

No, he had to make a choice now. Right here, Stanley had to decide where he stood. He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t know how he kept resetting, he didn’t know how to get out or if he even could. But he knew one thing. He knew it with more certainty than anything right now.

Stanley looked up into the air and tightened his jaw.

Nobody tells me what to do.

And he stepped off the ledge.

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

Loop 8

Stanley’s office door was slamming against the wall before his vision had even fully settled and he angrily stumbled into the hallway. His tie was tossed to the ground and half the first office space covered before he suddenly halted in his steps and threw a furrowed glance at the ceiling.

Silence.

Fucking finally. It had taken seven plummets to the warehouse floor but maybe that windbag was finally done. Stanley scoffed, barely believing that even possible, and continued forward.

Each reset brought him to a default state in more ways than just physical. Each time his emotional state evened out. But for the last half a dozen resets it had taken just a few moments for his mind to catch up and send a surge of anger through him. He was on an adrenaline rush, a rage-fueled spite spree. The Narrator had said death was Stanley’s only way of establishing agency over himself. If that was true, then that would be the only thing Stanley ever did.

He didn’t even have to fight his body’s self-preservation now. With very little pain experienced before the reset and the total lack of a real consequence, his instinctual fear response was all but gone. As soon as Stanley was in the warehouse he could damn near do a jumping dive off the platform to meet his impermanent fate.

Going every other step down into the room, Stanley strolled chest puffed up to the ledge for the eighth time. But something that wasn’t a fear of death kept his feet glued to the yellow caution tape just before the drop. A different concern was bubbling. A worry caused by an unexplained change in the environment. Once again, he cast his eyes upwards.

Absolute silence.

Stanley sighed heavily and gestured sharply upwards. C’mon, at least put up some sort of a fight. This is just pathetic.

Nothing.

His brows came together and he set his jaw firm. He took a step back. Hello?

Complete and utter quiet.

Stanley’s chest tightened and he squeezed his fist. What was this then? A guilt trip? A ploy to get Stanley to apologize or feel bad? It wouldn’t work. Best give it up while you can still back out or Stanley would never let The Narrator live down this cheap manipulation trick.

...

Nothing. Not a word, not a breath. The oppressive soundlessness of the warehouse left him able to hear his own heart beating in his ears. Only dead air surrounded him, and the jarring shift from just a few minutes ago was..not sitting well in his twisting gut.

Stanley stood there for maybe a minute, just listening. Straining to hear anything at all. Any sound of movement, of a person just holding their breath behind a microphone. But it was impossibly still. He gave in, moved away from the ledge and started back to the lounge, slowly. Cautiously. Distrusting even more of the bland hallways of this non-euclidian hell. Each checkpoint Stanley stopped and projected a questioning thought at..wherever The Narrator was. And each time was the same. Silence was all she wrote.

With a grumble in his throat Stanley picked up his pace, cutting through the two doors intersection, back through the large connecting office space, back through his small starting room, all the way back to his office. Normally these doors would all be closed, but they were left open, giving him a free backtrack this time around. He dropped himself into his office chair and rotated stiffly back and forth, hands holding the arms of the chair tightly. Another upward glance, another questioning thought. Another lot of nothing at all.

He waited a minute. Then two minutes. Then four, then ten. He watched the hand tick away on the clock on his wall, the only sound aside from his own shallow breathing. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tic-

Fine! Stanley threw his hands up and stood from the chair. He began to pace, only able to take a few steps in this tiny office space before sharply pivoting. Fine, fine! He was done, he was done with the warehouse now. Is that what The Narrator wanted? He wasn’t getting an apology. Stanley was not even going to lie about feeling sorry. But he’d concede on this. He was done throwing himself off the warehouse platform.

He stopped pacing and folded his arms anxiously. His eyes locked onto a worn part of the carpet that hugged the doorframe. One tick. Two ticks. Three ticks.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?! Stanley didn’t regret killing himself over and over. The Narrator deserved to irritated. To have his path ignored. He blew Stanley up on his very first run through this place, before Stanley even knew that he wasn’t in an inconsequential dream. What kind of fair was that? It wasn’t! And so if The Narrator wasn’t going to play fair, neither was Stanley. He wasn’t going to apologize for hitting back.

But he was done! That was the best The Narrator was going to get so he better be satisfied with it quick. Stanley would promise to not jump off the warehouse platform again. That was his offer. His compromise. He’d do that if The Narrator would give up this stupid, childish silent treatment.

One tick. Two ticks. Three.

Stanley groaned out loud and sped out of the office again. He was still riddled with aftershocks of anger, but quickly replacing it was the shakiness of anxiety. He was assuming a cold shoulder here but for all he knew The Narrator had up and left and wasn’t hearing a word he was saying. Or, thinking. Whatever.

Stanley rounded the corner of the hall towards the two doors. He stopped at the crossroad and stared at his options. His nails pressed into his palms and his eyes jumped between each doorway with nervous indecisiveness. He almost wanted to go back to the lounge to try and wait this out somewhere at least mildly comfortable. But the worry that, if The Narrator was listening, he would think Stanley was going back on his offered deal, kept his feet planted. Maybe going the correct way would break him out of this? If he’d at least talk back to Stanley they could discuss this for real. 

Stanley sighed and pursed his lips. He hadn’t really given the opportunity for discussion before. He was so quick to react, so quick to jump down the throat of the only other person- person? Being? -that was here that not once had the thought crossed his mind to just..try and talk about it all. Stanley had opted to be hostile right off the bat, and could he really entirely blame The Narrator for not backing down from that? Was that not was Stanley had just done? Refused to back down? Stanley was stubborn, but so was The Narrator it seemed. It was beyond hypocritical for Stanley to criticise The Narrator’s uncooperation when Stanley had behaved in the exact same way.

A slow clap startled him out of his train of thought and he winced at just how hard he’d been clenching his fists. He folded his arms back over his chest as he expectantly looked up to the sudden sound.

“You got there quicker than I had expected, great job Stanley. I really did believe it might take you a few loops of not dying to begin to feel bad, but perhaps I was too harsh on your ability to empathize. Maybe you do have a heart in there after all.”

Stanley blinked. His mouth parted slightly and his thoughts came up blank with a response. The Narrator went on.

“If you do mean it and you are quite done with this whole business in the warehouse, I would very much like to move on. There’s so much more here you haven’t seen yet. I’d of course prefer you take the intended route but honestly at this point I’ll simply take any path that isn’t to the warehouse, I’m not particularly picky. Whenever you’re ready just go ahead and pass through the door on your left. Much appreciated Stanley.”

..Wait. Wait, wait, wait, so The Narrator was here the whole time? He was just ignoring Stanley on purpose? Why?! “To wait you out. To get you to realize the error of your ways, acknowledge them, and apologize for them. You didn’t explicitly state an apology but I’ll count it, all of that self-beration was close enough for me.”

Stanley saw red. This whole time, this WHOLE time, The Narrator really was just using a shitty manipulation tactic to drag an anxious, guilty thought stream out of Stanley. Who the fuck did he think he was?! Stanley stormed through the door on the right. He’d show this all-important Narrator what the fuck he got when he fucked with Stanley like that. He wasn’t going to get a meek little ‘sorry’ and an obedient puppet that walked his stupid path. He’d told Stanley to get used to The Narrator being in charge? Well The Narrator better get used to Stanley never following orders.

There wasn’t a second of hesitation this time. In a heartbeat, darkness overtook his vision, consciousness stamped out with the heavy thud of his body on concrete. And he was gone.

[daeamour-a]

((Turns out I lied and did have some writing in me. Here's a drabble about how Sawyer got their Ukulele and a look into their time in the 2nd Layer of Hell.))

It was meant to be an ambush at one of the many gates to the second level of hell. Led by a newly appointed general of Heaven's army. One far too confident in his abilities and far too zealous in his beliefs. It led with the idea that by taking a gate they could set up a foot hold into entering one of the layers of hell thus turning the tide of the war. What it turned into was a massacre. Despite all their preparations, their planning and plotting they weren't ready for a war fought on enemy soil.

Holy blood bubbles on the floor, rings of flame singe the ground fighting for their last breaths of life before turning to nothing more then smoke and feathers melt to gold seeping into the ground ready for their rebirth. All that remains are the dying the angels too weak to fight but too strong to fall. The ones still grasping onto their holiness hoping for a moment of glory. Yet above them stand the demons who brought their defeat lacking the mercy to end their suffering. Enjoying the show of the angels writhing on the ground desperately clinging to their lives.

They tell you to enjoy this moment that this is a part of the victory. Yet as you wade through the corpses of the dying, slicing wings and halos off one by one, you can't help to think this does not feel like a victory. It feels like a slaughter a day at the butchers preparing meat to be sold in the market. The others do not have the same forethought that you do, they leave the angels to simply die to their unholy injuries. But you know angels and you know they will get back up if you do not deal with them. So you do what you must detaching wings where you can or cracking halos when you must.

As you step past another dying angel a hand grasps onto your ankle tickling the edge of your calcar. Iridescent blood leaks from the hand onto your foot covering it in a translucent wetness. You don't flinch or startle in surprise or even react, all you do is follow the hand to the owner of the body. An angel covered in bloodied and blackened eyes grips your leg desperately their halo cracked but not yet broken. You raise your sword ready to slaughter another creature for market. Yet before you can bring your sword down the thing speaks in it's many echoing voices.

“Wait. Please wait.” There is urgency in it's voice and you expect it to beg for its life. It is rare for an angel to beg for their life but not entirely unheard of. Many a good demon have come from such deals. Traps are laid in the same way however. So you do not lower your sword however you don't attack either. Instead you wait allowing it to make the first move.

“My satchel... I need my satchel.” It points a melting finger towards a pure white bag that lays amongst the burnt remains of former angels. Though it lets go of your leg you do not move knowing full well the trap that this could be. Angels are not as true as god would have their followers believe them to be. “Please. Hurry.”

This time you take a chance trusting that the angel wouldn't waste it's final few moments in existence begging a demon to fall for its trap. Cautiously you approach the bag poking then prodding it with your sword. It doesn't react to the movements no signs of tampering or magic attributions to the exterior of the bag. You lift the bag with the point of your sword careful not to cut it open as you bring it to the angel. You can hear something inside it breathing. The angel takes the bag reaching inside to pull out a Ukulele with an eye where the sound hole ought to be and a mouth where the saddle would be. The angel holds the instrument out to you, the instrument breaths and stares at you mouth formed down into a frown.

“Take it. Please. Take it. I can't... I won't be able... If I don't...” The angel shutters and wheezes by now almost all of it has melted to a black ichor substance. One that even the ground refuses to swallow. You don't know for sure but you suspect the ukulele is a death curse. One that disallows the chance to be born again should the owner die with it still in their possession. You've heard of curses like this before. If you were to deny the angel's request, to simply cut the angels halo in two and move on the curse would have nowhere to go until someone else happened upon the ukulele.

There is no reason for you to take a curse for the sake of an enemy. They have done nothing for you nor your kin. You should feel no compassion for them, no sentiments. Despite this you feel love all the same and still take the damned object. The curse means nothing to you. You get no chances to live again after this. For an angel though a curse like this means everything.

"Thank you..." It has no mouth but in it's many eyes you can see the angel smile. What little remains of the angel turns to gold seeping into the ground. Leaving you stranded alone on the singed battlefield with the cursed instrument smiling up at you.

[beaversatemygrandma]

weekly yapping part 2

This is very much a part 2. If you want part one, you have to go back to it. Keep up with the yapping i fuckin guess.

but holy shit. After that conversation with this guy earlier this week, i had a feeling things were about to Happen. But, then there were days where his daughter was just there and visibly and jealously keeping his attention off me. Today, she wasn't around doing that.

I ended up swinging by because I had a whole thing where i ended up psyching myself out about driving at night when somehow there was actually over an hour before the sun set?? Idk how, but I REALLY psyched myself up. (I have to apologize to my manager now... I feel bad about that actually.) So I decided to just Push my luck on time. See how long it takes for it to really make me feel unsafe to drive. I left work, told him I was doing that, then proceeded to pull up, ranting on about the conversation I had with the manager and how annoying it is that I can't drive at night. Which ultimately got the various advice on how to do it and then a "you can." And the offers on helping me with various car shit. Which is needed. He's changing my oil at some point this week.

But at some point when my little rant ended and he just casually cooled that whole thing, he just holds an arm out towards me and is just randomly offering the usual back cracking so I'm just okay, weird that it's not right before i leave. He goes ahead, does that, but doesn't let go when he puts me down. Full on just leaned into me and pulling me against him. Like holy shit okay. First of all, releasing the back tension from the day, and second of all that was insanely comforting. what. he says something like 'we could just stay like that, but i'm not gonna make you' and I just awkwardly step away. Because, yeah, caught Very off guard. Last time i was just stuck thinking on how he had nice hands and now i'm here like, that's not the only thing nice there. That was comforting as all hell. He just felt so nice there and was very gentle about the fact. Not to mention that I have never been that physically close to somebody of his build. Like size-wise, you'd expect soft. But no, firm and comfortable. Like damn, that's actually something. He's just really nicely built.

Then it finally gets to when I'm about to head out. I end up leading him out to my car bc of the previous rant. Apparently i never knew how to turn on my brights for the stupidest reason??? You PUSH the long switch thing not pull??? Somehow I didn't know this?? ...I also need to clean the headlights. Bad. They're not as bright as they should be. ugh. Either way, with current times, the maximum i can stay in town and still get home is about 5:20ish. At least for now.

But I end up accidentally stalling on leaving bc, yeah, that was a whole damn thing. I'm still just processing even having a mutual attraction here. It still feels so weird. I end up pulling him into a hug before leaving, which somehow is actually my first time doing that. Idk what it was about his voice today, but he had me going. He's just quietly telling me that i should keep just randomly dropping by. And as he lets go of me to send me off before I regret stalling, i feel his hand go from my lower back to butt then that light push of 'get going already' And i'm just there thinking, holy shit, this is actually happening now.

It's a day later. I go and head over there with the stuff for that oil change offer bc yeah, that's been needed for like two months now. So that only took like 20 minutes. I was there for at least three hours. I figured out a bit more about him. He's not necessarily an unsafe person, just had a whole damn past with drugs. And the recent prison bout was only 3 years, so it's not really all TOO Big. Either way, he's definitely working towards a path of improvement and seems excited about getting back into normal things.

But today took a turn. So we ended up smoking and sitting around in the garage after he changed the oil, long story short, there was a single silence before we ended up making out for a while. Definitely would've gotten a lot further than that if given the right environment. Once we fully realized that was going to go so much further, we backed off and he started back on what he's been working on in there and I'm just there, struggling to find something to fill the silence but I'm just stuck in this state of 'holy shit, i just did that' and the sexual tension of the silence was fuckin Thick. Once he got to a point of where he could actually continue on his whole project, he just sat back down with me and it was just nothing but very strong flirting in between struggling to come up with literally anything to talk about. It was super evident that nothing else was in mind here other than taking things further. I was able to toss out a few random stories that didn't last as long or get as much conversation as i had hoped, but i at least got a more personal conversation that usual here. Then one the way out, i couldn't help but try to get a little more. Just a short thing, but just enough that still left me wanting a bit more there. Like holy shit, his body is nice and those hands really are just super pleasant to feel in all ways. And when you get him talking, he is an interesting person. Just have to work for it a bit bc he's as quiet as i am, but he's just all around nice to be around. I'm going to keep going by, bc yeah, holy shit. Idk how the hell this is even going to go or why I'm doing it, but here we are. Guess i've got this whole thing going for real now.

I'm still sitting here hours later feeling like that isn't even something that actually happened, but nope. I was there. It really doesn't feel true.

Edit number 2, day after. So, guess this is just the normal now. This is just how it's gonna be when I swing by now. I've already got some solid going with how this is very much just me adjusting myself to driving at night. Basically staying like five minutes later each night until I've basically eased myself into driving home in the dark, but also just sneaking in a few more minutes there. I was actually looking forward to just being there for a little bit after work that I wasn't even actually worried about accidentally driving in the dark. Not a single nerve. What I've been stuck on now is how the hell he makes me feel so calm? Don't get it. After literally everything I've figured out about this guy, I shouldn't feel so damn safe with him. The reason I always have to go to his place is because he's finishing fucking house arrest. Like??? Besides, it feels like it's somehow more than just this strictly sexual thing. Like, i feel like if you end up going and spending this much time with a guy and it took that long to even just get to the point where you're just hanging onto the sexual tension and doing nothing more than a bit of kissing and feeling. Like the flirting isn't anything that even leans sexual, just that he wants to spend more time with me, that when i swing by, even for the shortest bit, is his favorite part of the day. When i bring up anything it's just nothing but supportive. Maybe it's just the possibly being unappreciated aspect of certain things for me, but holy shit that's doing something. Either way, he's even still just making me melt physically. Doesn't even really have to do all too much. Today he came up from behind me, pulled me into a full hug and just held his lips on my neck there for a second. I can't even understand how much i liked that. So damn simple yet gets me going way too much.

....ugh. Two days of that and I'm already wanting it to just go further already. Let me figure all of it out already. He's driving me insane in a very good way.

[helllords]

Just as red begins to bleed into black does terror begin to mix into glee, his briefly manifesting fear that all his efforts were for naught ( were foolish, were to end in a punctured side and an attempted sacrifice that he would have to deal with somehow ) extinguished between darkness' swift fingers. A laugh tears itself free from his throat and he does not even realize it is coming from him because his focus is entirely set on the devilish creature emerging in front of him and the crescendo of his madness paints a fitting entrance for this demon of hell.

The boiling blood seems to suck the shadows around it into itself, creating a vacuum and a root from which it will stem from ( it is pitch-black in the abyss, in the deepest part of the underworld, where sinners succumb to their despair because god's light could never breach, reach all the way down to save them and it rules over it all. ) And the more it feeds, the bigger it becomes: a fountain of black blood, reaching high towards the ceiling but due to the lack of light, it is difficult to pinpoint where it starts and the shadows of the church commence. Then suddenly an arm. And another. And anotherandanotherandanotherand---. The damned reach through it, blindly grasping at the air. And they too merge into one another until a shape is created, resembling a person and yet barely a thing to comprehend. It is tar-like, almost, in the way its very essence drips down onto the once sacred ground and ignites a brief spark, a sizzle on a once blessed altar.

Adam's first mistake is that he rises from his knees, clutching his side, grinning from ear to ear. His second mistake is addressing this entity as if he has any control over it ( oh, foolish humans, your holy father has abandoned you. there is nothing that could save him now ). " Demon! ", he exclaims and it nearly seems like an incantation, a spell for the moment he speaks to it is the moment it grows a pair of wretched wings ( angelic. sacrilegious ) and within them a hundred pairs of bright green eyes, all focused on something else. It does not stop him ( it should have ). " I have summoned you so that you may grant me knowledge no other human ever had! I want to know more! About earth and heaven and hell! And I want others to respect me deeply for this knowledge! "

His panted command is met with the shadows whispering around them, all of them in a different language, all of them at the same time. It threatens to crack his skull but he continues on, spurred on by the belief that the demon is granting his wish. " And in exchange I have brought you a vessel to possess! " His arm points towards the younger man he had lured away but even before the gesture is made, all eyes suddenly snap towards Hidan, staring through him, swallowing his image whole.

A laugh. Smoky and crumbling around the edges with a voice that almost sends him into a frenzy. It isn't his.

A f i n e v e s s e l i n d e e d.

He shouldn't have spoken. He should have stayed in the light. He should have never done this to begin with ( god said let there be light! but the darkness does not waver ).

His senses are clouded and strained through the thickening shadows and the continuous murmur of pleas and taunts and thus he hardly has a moment to acknowledge the phantom arm that snakes around his throat, burning hot and icy cold, squeezing. Fingers come to try and tear it away in vain because when he reaches for it, his touch slips through. Suddenly he is in the Garden of Eden and the snake gleams terrifyingly around his neck. There is no Eve. There is no apple because the snake itself is now the cursed fruit. And no sooner has he come to realize that he should have learned the punk's name ( perhaps he could have bound the demon to him then ), does a dying gasp break free from his lips. And the snake of darkness slips past his parted mouth and poisons him whole.

The sound of choking melts into gagging, into swallowing. His body is set aflame from the inside, his once own blood returning to his veins, now a bearer of damnation, of disease he drinks in. Green eyes roll back into his skull, his arteries twitching black just as the rest of his limbs seize under the unbearbale pain and he falls to his knees again, barely able to turn towards where the only other witness to his horror stands. " P--- Plea---. " No mercy, however. With a sickening crunch of his jaw does the rest of the entity flow into him, arms bending into odd degrees, the bones of his ribcage breaking as it settles within him. Whispering. Getting so loud it's as if they are yelling. So loud, so loud. Tears are rolling down his cheeks ( black ), blood is pouring out of his mouth ( black ). Fingers and palms press against his skin from the inside. Whispering, whispering, whispering---.

Silence. He falls over, sitting back on his knees, head hanging low, facing the altar. For a second there is nothing, not even the sound of his breathing. But death has not visited this house of god.

The first indication of possessing is the pop of his jaw as it sets back into place. Slowly does he rise, almost weird and inhuman in the way his legs buckle, unused to the movements. His torso sways until it comes to be perfectly still, arms limp on either side. Silence. And then he turns. Oh god, he turns.

Blood drips from his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears ( black!blackblackblack ), a split tongue slithering over lips curled in a big grin, barely fitting on his face. The eyes that lock on Hidan now are unbearably green, like the fire from which he stems. And then he takes a breath and speaks.

" R u n l i t t l e l a m b. "

And the arms of darkness shoot out to reach him too.

@helllords

the priest’s name, as he repeats it, slides across his tongue like a cold, smooth, polished pebble. dark and round, ready to slide down into the depths of his throat and choke him. Adam. ( it’s a thread of irony that, once pulled taut, reverberates through him. pulls his whole mouth into a grin, expression suddenly alight with glee. ) it only follows that he’d introduce himself as Eve; because he thinks himself fucking funny. because the pursuit of knowledge, even as a forbidden fruit, is always more tantalizing than the shackles of heaven. ( he thinks of this again even as his feet carry him ( almost carelessly ) over the threshold of the church. )

even as he steps inside, his gaze refocusing in the semi-dark ( to that frantic struggle of light and shadow, the flickering of the candles akin to a scream), his hand raises automatically, reaching towards his own forehead, and he has to force it down when he becomes cognizant of his own automatism. a scowl etches itself deep between his brows, and he turns to shake the rain off his jacket instead, eyes downcast. he loathes it. it’s been years. and yet, the impulse remains andthe sign of the cross lingers in the shadows of his footsteps. it’s a strange, hateful impulse ( so fucking familiar that it felt natural ), branded into his flesh not with hot iron but the iron will of ( generations and their fucking trauma ) his parents.  well fuck them! he'll ever be like his father, spilling his lifeblood at the feet of a callous corporation, he’ll never be like his mother, caged and frozen in a perpetual scream that froze in her throat and gagged her, leaving her suffocating between four white walls with no one else around.

( he refuses. )

           “ huh? yeah, sure. . .. ”  his reply is absent-minded, lost in the maze of his thoughts. is it being in such a place again, after so long, that makes the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end? or is it —could it ever be— something else entirely?

wandering footsteps carry him around in the semi-dark to bear witness to the holy place; to strangle him with familiarity. even absentmindedly, he finds it strange to see so few candles alight. in his oldest of memories, before he had acquired a modicum of independence to think for himself, there always were. hundreds, everywhere, constantly burning. he's almost tempted to light one himself, here and now. not in prayer (he has no wish to bestow one upon any deity, he has no wish to bend the knee) and not for a departed soul. not even for the nostalgia of his childhood. he simply wants to watch the dancing flame burn. ( he wants to watch the whole world burn. the depth of his anger, lately, has been hard to grasp, hard to seize and see for what it was. how far can he tumble headlong into it before it consumes him to the marrow? why is he so angry, all the fucking time? if he asked himself that, if he lingered on the question long enough to genuinely seek for answers…. would they come? and would he even accept the outcome? )

he doesn’t have any money to leave as payment; it’s not enough to stop him. ( he never believed that the church should run on fiscal weights, anyway. back in the day, you could purchase relief from your sins with a generous donation ; guess money speaks wherever, huh? . . . isn’t that just greed? ). what does make him falteris the spoken, deceptively seductive Latin resonating in the crushing, vast emptiness of the sudden dark.

( Hidan could have been a choirboy. he never was  —against his mother’s wishes—  but he could have been. thus, the notes are like a shiv through his ribs, pulling him taut from stem to stern, making him pivot on his heel just in time to see the blade plunge into flesh. )

blood pours forth. and pours. and pours. soaks through fabric, leaving it stained dark.

Hidan stares, transfixed. fixed in a frame split apart from time. exists without feeling, torn apart from reality, as if were a rug that was suddenly yanked from underneath him. instead of freefall, he’s left to float, endlessly ( whatever thoughts he might have had come and go without gaining a foothold ).

smoke morphing into an all-encompassing darkness that appears to devour even the surrounding shadows snaps him to reality. like an icebath suddenly dumped on him (move.) , it rattles his bones (move.), travels down his spine in the most unpleasant of ways (move.). burns every nerve-ending, (move!)

he moves, and with surprising sangfroid at that. slinks back into the deeper dark until his heels hit brick, and blindly ( for he cannot tear his gaze away from The Sight ), he begins to slither away from the centerpoint of the building towards its rear. towards the door. towards the exit and, therefore sanity ( he never once stops to grapple with that concept – whether his mind is conjuring hallucinations for its own entertainment, whether it is real; whether he should do something. animal instinct, animalistic wisdom, in the face of something greater than itself. MOVE. )

[iheardarumorthings]

HEY BESTIE CAN U MAKE A BLURB OR SOMETHING ABOUT FIVE HARGREEVES DURING THE FIRST EP OF S3 like yk the one where he saw delores after jayme spits on him and the reader who happens to date him saw it and like "wtf is he doing" and heard the name delores coming out of his mouth and the reader just goes silence after that scene BECAUSE THE READER IS THINKING ABOUT IT A LOT LIKE "is he actually still in love with a mannequin" and like very angsty afterwards but Five confronted her why she's being so quiet after their visit at the sparrows and the rest is up to u :] TYSM IDK ITS MY 1ST REQUEST ACTUALLY AND I CANTTT STOP THINKING ABT S3

ANGSTANGSTANGST

warnings: i think there's swearing, female reader (in my mind, but i can't remember using pronouns), angst. hardcore angst

tags: @mad-elia

PERFECTION

You were both running to get to Allison, his arm was around your waist, the other arm stretched toward the cornered woman. 

“Thanks,” she heaved once the three of you made it to the upstairs. 

“No problem,” Five said.

And then you saw her. She was a taller woman with electric black hair and green eyes. 

He told you guys to go, that he’d handle the woman. While Allison ran, you lingered, hiding behind the wall, watching.

He hit her over the head and she let out a groan of pain. Good. He could handle anything, your boyfriend. You had no doubt he’d be able to handle this easily; after all, he was probably the quickest thinker out of everyone. He could do anything and everything and that was only one reason you were irretrievably, desperately in love with the man.

And then came the spit, along with a hiss bubbling from the woman’s mouth. Jayme, you think her name was. Jayme. It sounded about right.

You wrinkled your nose, much like Five who began to berate her. “Agh! Hey, gross, alright?”

But before he could continue the usual lecture about sanitation, his face went glassy. Sweat built up on his forehead, and he began to walk around almost aimlessly.

“What the hell?” you heard him whisper. His eyes were directed toward the stairs, as were Jayme’s.

You ran out, looking at him, but didn’t touch him. Disturbing people when they’re in a trance could end dangerously, you heard. 

“What did you do to him?” you whispered, but she heard it and only smiled. It wasn’t one of those soft smiles; it was something similar to Five’s smile when he was irked. It was crooked, fake.

“I’m only showing him what he wants, kid.”

“Dolores?” Five whispered. You could feel your heart shatter.

The mannequin; that mannequin that sat with the both of you through the darkest nights of the apocalypse. She was there through everything; he always seemed to choose her over you. Even after you two were together. Dolores this; Dolores that; “Dolores would look good in this, wouldn’t she?”; “Dolores, you’re perfect”; “Dolores, I love you”.

You thought it was over. You thought he was over the stupid mannequin; you thought he loved you, only you. You thought that you two were meant for one another, the stupid soulmate shit everyone preached. But, you could see now, you clung on too tightly to the dreams a little girl would have.

You could see him break out into a smile, a genuine one. “Dolores.”

And then came the italian. 

“Really? Italian? Holy shit. Do you think I could get out of this without fighting you?” you asked Jayme. She raised an eyebrow at you before quickly turning to Five. “I’m way to tired for-”

He began to make out with thin air. 

Well, fuck.

“Okay, I’m just going to go,” you said, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

You only just turned your back when you heard Five tumble down the stairs.

~*~

“Just gonna sit. I’m just gonna sit for a minute,” Luther groaned.

Your bones were cracking. You could practically collapse right there, plopping down on the top of the bench, lying there, mimicking Klaus on the table next to yours.

“Oh, I’m cracking,” Klaus said, a grit to his voice. You could second that.

“You all good, Klaus?”

“Fine, (Y/N/N), you?”

“Could be better.”

Five climbed on top of the table, sitting on the edge and placing your head gently in his lap. He began to run his fingers through your hair, his rhythm was constant. His love wasn’t. He grazed a cut and you hissed.

“That’s one hell of a cut, Sweetheart,” he mused quietly. You used that as an excuse to get out of his lap.

“I’m fine.”

You could see him flinch- just barely, not enough to catch if you weren’t paying close attention- at the slight harshness in your tone.

Good.

~*~

“CHET! Mon frère! I’d like my usual suite, por favor!” Klaus announced excitedly to the man at the front desk. He was older, his wrinkles prominent, but his hair still maintaining a blondish color that grasped onto hints of youth. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Chet deadpanned. 

“See? Told you. Discreet.”

“Great job, Klaus,” you giggled; in turn, he wrapped an arm around you and wrestled you into his side.

“Don’t sass me, kiddo. There is such thing as a time out corner, you know.”

The dog’s whimper interrupted the conversation very quickly. 

“Please stop scaring my dog,” Chet said.

“We need some rooms, please.”

“Super.” Chet pulled out a sign with the words only a nightmare could hold. “And how will we be paying today?”

Well shit.

“Fine,” Luther said. “Empty your pockets. Come on; something.”

You dug around in your pockets, finding a dagger and an extinguished cigarette. 

“(Y/N)! Come on, really?” Five scolded.

“As if you haven’t had a cigar before.”

“Condoms?” Luther asked.

“I think you can exchange those for cash,” Klaus replied, causing you to giggle.

“Come on, you two, put the knives away!”

Luther looked around. “Oh, all right,” he sighed, removing his watch. Klaus marveled at it as he handed it to Chet. Examining it, Chet grabbed three room keys.

“Well, let’s Brady Bunch this bitch.”

~*~

Only one room had one bed, so you and Five were assigned to that one.

“Let’s unpack. Settle in.”

“And what do we have to unpack?” you questioned, eyebrow cocked.

“Yes, Darling, isn’t that liberating?”

“Fair enough.”

“Alright then,” Five said. “Let’s fix you up.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

You didn’t want him touching you anymore. You didn’t want him lying to you anymore.

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine. I’ll get Allison in here-”

“Why Allison?” he asked, eyebrows furling. You could see the hurt flash in his eyes. Your heart broke and soared at the same time.

“You know why, Five. I saw everything.”

“Everything? I don’t get it.” He approached you, reaching out. You pulled back. He took another step forward. This kept going until your back hit the wall. He quickly brought his arm up, trapping you there. “I don’t understand. Why can’t I take- what did you see?”

You laughed, but stared at his arm. He was serious.

His other hand made its way to your hairline, brushing it softly. “I don’t understand.”

You recoiled, causing him to flinch once more.

“Sweetheart, we’re done. It’s all over; no more apocalypse, no more nothing. This is it! We can be happy- just… tell me what happened. I’ll fix it. I swear I will. I can’t afford to lose you after everything. I’ll fix everything, I promise, just please tell me what-”

“I saw you making out with thin air.”

“After what Jayme did? I thought I told you to run-”

“I hung back to make sure there wasn’t any funny business.” His arm loosened and you made your exit, walking toward the door. He didn’t jump toward you. He didn’t do anything. He just looked. “Turns out, there was some funny business. You’re still hung up on Dolores.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, (Y/N), I swear to God, I-”

“I heard everything, Five. So, we’re hanging out here for the next few days and then I’m out. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

“(Y/N), I love you. Not Dolores, you.”

“I have come second to her after years, Five. Years I have waited for you to come around, and when you finally did, I was stupid enough to believe it was true. I was foolish enough to believe you could actually love me, that someone would actually love me. But, of course, I should’ve known: you can’t get over something so perfect that quickly.”

“You are perfection,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “You-”

“No, Five. You can’t- I know what I saw. I know what you want, and that’s not me. Now, if you excuse me, Allison will only be available for so long. I’m going to need this cut fixed.”

You walked out the door with tears blurring your vision.

[qarl-grimes]

Little Secrets: Three (Final)(Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader)

A/N: absolutely shooketh at the feedback i’ve gotten to part one and two of this little story. i can’t thank you all enough. alicent may be a little ooc, but for the sake of this story, she is. here’s part three!

Synopsis: She’s his sisters handmaiden, Highborn, but not high enough. He’s a Prince of the House of the Dragon, destined to marry someone of higher birth than her. This, them, can be their secret for just a little bit longer.

Warnings: 18+.

For the purpose of this story, the Readers House has been entirely made up by me. In the ASOIAF books, highborn handmaidens sometimes also serve as handmaidens and companions to noble ladies in the household of their overlords or at the royal court. It is important to note that the Readers House is fairly low.

Reader will be female, but her physical appearance will not be described.

I have tagged that who wanted to be! :)

@moonmaiden1996 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @snixx2088 @alexameliamg @wasntpriscilla @demure-doll @m1ndbrand @tea-effect @novazoldyck @thesadvampire @hangrymama @holy-minseok @highexpectationsgurl​ 

Parts One and Two here.

Your palms are sweating.

It’s to be expected, really, with the way the Queen is looking at you. There is not surprise on her expression, no, but a cold fury that curls into disappointment when she turns sharply to face her second youngest son. 

‘I had hoped this dalliance would have ended by now, Aemond’.

You breathe in sharply and look to the floor. She knew, then. For all your sneaking and pleased little smiles at evading the Queen, she had known all along. 

‘I will marry her, mother’. You look at him, chest fluttering at the determination set into Aemond’s tone. ‘With your and fathers permission or not, Y/N will become a Targaryen and, in turn, Princess. We will flee to Dragonstone on Vhagar and return only where this a babe-’

‘Aemond!’ The Queen snaps, finally, her hands flying to her forehead in frustration. She glowers at her son. ‘Your father will fade soon enough. Your brother is a menace to the Red Keep. Not to mention the issues with the Driftmark Throne. Do you not think this family has enough to deal with?’ She hisses. 

Aemond opens his mouth to speak again, not even slightly cowed by his mother. You, of course, speak when you are not supposed to. ‘I will be loyal to your son, your grace,’ you begin, voice cracking just slightly. You swallow and hold her gaze when she turns to you, brown eyes impatient. ‘I may be from a minor House, but I will be as good a wife as any to your son. Better, even. I love him’. You mouth lifts. ‘And not a childish love. A true love. I would die for him, and he for me. In such times,’ you add carefully. ‘Is such loyalty so easy to come by?’

The Queen stares at you for a very long moment, her lips pursed and her breaths short. With a sharp sigh, she waves Aemond’s way. ‘Leave. I need to think’. You go to leave, whereas Aemond reminds unwavering. ‘I will call you with my decision, Aemond. Go’.

You look at Aemond as you turn and, judging from the smirk on his face, you guess that you look white as a sheet. You had stood up to members of the Kings Guard, but it was the Queen who made you sweat with fear. Ser Criston allows you leave, pulling the door aside for you.

‘Seven Hells,’ you breathe, once in the safety of the corridor. 

Aemond’s hands finds your forearm, and he turns you to face him. His lilac eye glints. ‘Yes,’ he muses. ‘Mother can be quite a force. Aegon all but cries when she unleashed her terror on him’.

You scoff at the image, before tugging Aemond toward the archway, where the Queen’s private courtyard opens. It is a small garden, barely larger than the room you had just been in, but it was quiet. ‘She does not seem as if she will agree, Aemond’. You sigh. ‘It looks as if a visit to the Free Cities is imminent’.

Aemond scoffs, hands sliding up your arms to rest on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. ‘She will agree,’ he murmurs, intense in his own way.

You frown. ‘That was your mother being agreeable?’

‘No,’ Aemond speak softly. ‘That was my mother realising that she has lost’.

Exciting twists inside of you, but you narrow your gaze all the same. ‘You’re sure?’ Aemond nods with a smirk. ‘Thank the Seven. I think watching my throw up the entire ride to Essos would have put you off the idea of marrying me at all’.

Aemond smirks. ‘You seemed well enough last night’.

You open your mouth to reply, but suddenly realise the position the two of you are in. Anyone could walk past, including Helaena. You wanted to inform the girl yourself, not have her find Aemond all but caressing your face-

‘Prince Aemond, Lady Y/N’.

You wrench yourself away from Aemond out of habit, finding Ser Criston standing beneath the archway of the courtyard. ‘The Queen is ready to see you’. The Knight looks from you to Aemond, the man he had all but trained to be a fine fighter, and his mouth lifts just slightly. ‘Come’.

The Queen faces you when you enter, her expression pinched and her gaze watchful. She speaks only to Aemond, and her voice is anything but joyous. ‘You will marry, Aemond. I have no doubt that you give me little choice. I will not have a handmaiden sully your sisters honour with her own lack of-’

Aemond pulls you back just slightly, his lips lifting into a slight snarl. ‘Careful, mother’.

You bristle but fight down the need to defend yourself. You had given yourself to Aemond fully, but always with the intention of making him your only. Who was the Queen to condemn you for that? Well, you suppose. She is the Queen.

‘I love Helaena,’ you say, despite yourself. ‘I would never want to sully her honour, your grace’.

The Queen turns to you. Jaw clenched; she dips her head. ‘I have no doubt that is true, but that does not deny the danger you put yours and her honour into. Who do you think the courts would believe, should your honour come into question?’

Aemond straightens up. ‘Do you believe me the kind of man who would not defend her honour, mother, since I am the one who took it?’

‘Aemond!’ you snap, wide eyed and warm with embarrassment. ‘Seven Hells, must you?’

Aemond’s glances sulkily at you with his one eye. ‘I apologise, my love’.

The Queen watches you with a queer expression. ‘Leave us, Aemond,’ she says suddenly, turning sharply toward a small table stacked with goblets. ‘Seven Hells, Aemond, leave us for a few minutes, would you?’ she snaps, when her son makes no movement.

Relenting, he casts you a glance and slinks from the room, Ser Criston pulling the door closed behind him.

‘I never thought my son would want to marry, Lady Y/N,’ the Queen begins, handing you a half full goblet of red wine. You sip it the moment it is in your hand, desperate for something to numb your nerves. You swallow and nod.

‘I can understand why, you grace. Prince Aemond prefers the company of swords to most, I am aware’. The joke falls flat, and the Queen considers you over the goblets she twirls between her fingers.

‘Hmm,’ she hums. ‘But you are sharp, aren’t you?’

You snort before you can quite stop yourself, sobering to say, ‘Apologies, you grace. Aemond has said the same in jest before’. You look at her, willing her to speak, but the silence stretches. ‘I understand that I am lowborn, Queen Alicent. My House is small and meaningless, and my Lord father offers little in bannermen and coin. But I was not lying before – I will be loyal to Aemond. I will bare his children and I will love him. I won’t let anyone hurt him’.

The Queen smirks, and you understand where Aemond gets the look from. ‘When he was born, I swore the same, as I swear when all of my children were born’.

You think of Aemond’s long scar, the skin puckered and sitting where his other lilac eye should be. You have never known him without the scar. ‘Were we women permitted to pick her weapons, your grace, I would be quite tempted to return the sentiment to Aemond’s nephews’.

She looks as if, for a split moment, she might smile. ‘That is a treasonous statement, Lady Y/N’.

‘It is the truth,’ you return simply.

She dismisses you soon after, and you all but deflate into Aemond’s arms on the other side of the door. ‘Congratulations are in order, my Prince,’ Ser Criston remarks, but to Aemond’s amusement. Aemond scoffs and leads you away, his chin dipped to look at you.

‘Well?’

‘We will marry,’ you breathe, mouth stretching into a grin as you look up at him. ‘We will marry, Aemond. I must tell Helaena before word breaks, of course-’

‘I have not wanted to tell you this, for fear of you smacking me as you often do when I lie to you, but I believe that my sister is very much aware of us, Y/N’. Your grin turns to a gape, and Aemond smirks. ‘She is smart, my sister, you know this’.

‘I-I know that! But how-’

Aemond kisses you soundly, his smirk solid against your mouth, and laugh into the kiss, palm smacking lightly on his back until he pulls away from you. ‘We will marry,’ you grin. 

‘We will marry,’ Aemond agrees, a smile a little less lethal and a little more content gracing his sharp features.