#unless i impulsively start something new x)

[leynaeithnea]

Trying super hard to come up with a good question and this is the best I got I fear

Four books? ( One of your all time favourites , one you really really want to read, one that fundamentally changed you and one you'll never stop recommending) ( book series are also good)

Morninggg yeah questions can be really hardbut this is a good one

let's see....mh...

1. This one is tough but I'd probably say All For The Game, I've read it about 6 to 7 times in the past 7 years or so years, something about it just hits right home

2. ...does the Odyssey count? I currently have a digital version and a german translation from 1939 that i found in an antiquity store but i wanna get an english hardcover version of both the odyseey and the illiad eventually-

3. Lord of the rings/tolkiens universe changed me and helped me through my first years of teen angst and gave me a home during a time where we just recently moved and all that

4. Mmmhhh... That changes honestly depending on what im currently obssesed with and who it asking me for it, but probably currently Captive Prince series, the worldbuilding is tough (i do recommend reading the TWs before unless you're confident in being fine with close to anything, its mostly book one; the other two in comparison are really tame)

BUT THEY'RE SO GOOD the writing is so good, the character's, their dynamic, the tension between them-

Ill add a 5. Because we already have most of my favorite books that i keep rereading and say "Author you've read the most from" because that would be Sarah J Maas, esp the Throne Of Glass series rly also touches smth in me and her stories themes of "dreamers brining the hope for a better world" rly touches me

Rb that with your favorites? 😄

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

“By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and the boy beside you chucked as Angus said. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the table action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐇 ˊˎ - ☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: This has been a draft for a while but I decided to finish it today hehe 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: sugar daddy! Pantalone | Regrator x sugar baby! Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, dom/sub dynamics, sugar daddy au, spanks, whips, slight degradation (slut used), praise

You knew you shouldn’t have done it but the dinner had just been so boring and you were craving a little excitement, something to look forward to in order to get through this dreadfully dull meeting. 

You’re the sugar baby to the richest man in Teyvat; Pantalone, ninth of the Fatui Harbingers. You both appreciate each other’s company and he pays you to stay by his side and not fool around with other men. You don’t ask questions about his status as a harbinger and nor do you ask for things unless offered, things he appreciates as a man so generous with you. He’s started to bring you along to work lunches and dinners when it’s to do with the bank and not his rank as a harbinger – you think it’s a sign he’s starting to trust you more, maybe that he’s considering a new proposal for your relationship, but you’ve found he can be as strategic as he is impulsive, making him unpredictable and so you just live in the moment when you’re around him. 

But this particular dinner had been a dreadfully long moment indeed. With a few cocktails in you, you excused yourself to the bathroom to touch up your hair and reapply some lip gloss. It was as you were admiring your reflection that an idea struck you. It was an idea that you knew would land you in trouble and yet you needed something, anything, to anticipate so that this dinner could be somewhat less dull.

With the bathroom being empty, you reached up under your cocktail dress and slid your panties down your legs, off over your heels. You bunched the little lacy garment up in your hand and made your way back to your seat at the table. Your sugar daddy welcomed you back with a soft smile and a hand on your knee. Seizing your opportunity, you had pushed your panties into his hand, making it clear that you now had nothing under your dress. He had to clear his throat and take a sip of his drink to compose himself as a brief moment of surprise overtook him. You were then shot a look that warned you this action would have consequences as he rubbed his thumb over the soft lace before sliding it into his pocket. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And so, you find yourself bent over his large bed back at his mansion, your dress removed so that he has a perfect view of your ass, your skin covered with silky stockings and a garter belt for him. 

“There is a time and a place to be a little tease,” He lectures as he kicks your ankles apart, leaning over you so that his voice rumbles lowly against your ear, breath fanning against your skin in a way that makes your skin prickle, “and my meetings qualify for neither of such things.” He’s still fully dressed in his three-piece suit, though he’s removed the blazer and laid it on the bed beside you, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m sure you understand by now that your actions have consequences.” 

“Yessir.” You reply, hearing the dragging sound of a drawer being opened from behind you. You don’t need to look to know which it is.

“So how many spanks do you think is appropriate for trying to distract me in such a lewd way, hm?” You ponder for a moment, trying to decide an answer that will both please him and not cause you too much pain when you next wish to sit down. 

“Ten…?” You ask hesitantly, but feel a wash of relief when he lets out an approving little hum. 

“Yes, that seems like enough to teach you a lesson. One, two or three, darling?” You know this game too: you’re to blindly pick what he’ll be spanking you with. 

“Three.” You reply. Three is a good number, stable, strong, triangular. And hopefully not the damn paddle. 

“The whip it is.” He replies and you internally let out a little sigh of relief. The small whip with its various tails is placed down on the bed beside your head as his gloved hands cup your hips. He strokes your skin with his thumbs for a moment before squeezing and propping them up higher so that you’re perfectly presented for him to punish. “Just look at you, sweet girl…” He lets out an appreciative groan as his palm roams over the curve of your ass, giving it an appreciative little squeeze. “What a shame you have to be such a brat at times, I’d much rather see you squirming under my tongue…” His fingers glide over your slit in a barely-there touch, showing you exactly where he’d put his tongue.

You see his hand take the whip and it vanishes from your field of vision. Preparing yourself mentally, your teeth graze your lower lip and hands clutch at the silken sheets beneath you. But it’s been a while since he punished you like this and, as it cracks over the plush flesh of your ass, you realise it hurts more than you remember. You let out a short cry and flinch away before composing yourself and propping your hips up again. 

“Good girl…” He praises you for immediately getting back in position, soothing the sting of the developing welt on your rear with a gentle brush of his fingers. “Ready for the next?” You give a curt nod, more prepared now that you’ve been reminded of just how much it hurts to be spanked with the whip like this. “Good.” You only suck in a sharp gasp when the whip comes down on your ass the second time. 

“You always take this so well. At least you accept your punishments after you’ve been a brat~” You can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him over your shoulder. You feel his fingers slide into the top of your stocking and leave something there. You turn your head and realise he’s tucked a thick wad of cash into the elastic of your stocking, patting his hand against it to reaffirm that it’s all yours. You bite back a delighted smile as he looks down at you with a mix of dominance and appreciation. 

Pantalone respects the arrangement your relationship is built upon and he’s grateful that you allow him to do these sorts of things to you, to play out his fantasies. He’s the richest man on the continent and so material things no longer impress him. But intangible things? Submission, loyalty, obedience? Those are precious gifts to him, especially from a woman as pretty as you. He doesn’t forget to show his appreciation by rewarding you with money, luxuries, holidays. You respect his boundaries and he respects yours so he believes the best thing he can do for you is shower you with his wealth. 

“Let’s continue…” You face forwards once again, a hot sting on your right asscheek. He brings the whip down on your skin another three times, giving you a few moments to prepare yourself between each one. 

“Halfway…” You murmur to ease yourself. You’ve already done five, you can do five more… 

“And you’re taking it so well, pretty girl~” He purrs, tucking more cash into your stockings, even more now. You can’t help but smile happily at the sight of all the notes sticking out of the top of the silky material, tucked under your garters too. “We can go to the bank tomorrow to deposit all this. I’ll take you out for lunch, treat you to some shopping – maybe to that little lingerie store you love, hm?~” He offers and gently glides the tail of the whip over your stinging ass. 

“Mh, yes please~” You say softly, knowing it pleases him. 

“You’ll need to show me you’ve learned how to behave tonight though, can you do that for me, little one?” He leans over your back to murmur in your ear, his voice as deep and rich as his pockets, a syrupy aphrodisiac to your body. You can’t help but squirm a little and he presses his knee between your legs to assure you don’t close them. You nod your head eagerly.

“Yessir.” 

“That’s my girl.” He stands up straight again. Three more spanks later, more cash is being tucked into your other stocking. “Look at you, perfect little sugar baby, aren’t you?~” He croons, his eyes raking over your figure: you’re in just your lingerie – minus your panties – bent over his bed, hips propped up in the air and your plush criss-crossed with light welts from the whip in his gloved hand, your silky stockings stuffed with his cash. But he groans as he looks at how your pretty slit is already dripping. He swipes your thumb against your pussy, smearing your wetness over your clit, amused that you’ve become so turned on from being spanked and spoiled rotten by him, “Such a perfect little slut too…” You let out a little mewl at how he rubs sticky circles against your sensitive pearl, whining slightly when he pulls his hand away. 

“Perhaps I can find a fitting reward for you once you’ve finished your punishment…” Eager to get this all done with so he can move on to dealing with the needy heat building between your thighs, you prop your hips up for him, a silent cue that you’re ready for the final two spanks. You feel a wave of relief wash over you as the initial sting of the ninth one fizzles out into a familiar hot hurting that you’ve already grown used to this far into your punishment; one more left and you’ll be rewarded. 

But you weren’t prepared for him to stop holding back for the tenth and final blow, the crack of the whip sounding our mere milliseconds before a cry erupts from your lips. “There you go, good girl, all done~” He croons and leans over you once again as he stuffs more cash in your stocking, setting the whip down in favour of brushing your hair away from your neck. His lips press hot kisses along the side of your neck until he can teasingly nibble at your ear. His other hand reaches down to cup the underside of your knee and bring your one leg up onto the bed, causing you to spread your thighs apart as you’re bent over under him. 

“And good girls get rewarded.” 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

🏷️@firagirl @ghostofpolaris @jofie-does-things @sarah22447

[leaawrites]

can u write about noel going all out for your one year anniversary, can u write it all romantic and fluffy.. im yearning for lover boy gallagher

Lover Boy Gallagher

Noel Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Noel goes all out for their one year anniversary.

Warnings: a bit angst (sorry, can't help myself), swearing, established relationship, fluff, I hope this is how you imagined it!

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

The house was empty, like most days this time around. With the recording of their new album, all Oasis members were constantly in the studio and rarely anywhere else. Especially not home with their girlfriends or family.

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n assured Noel that she was fine with being home alone and that her time without him wouldn’t change the love she felt for him. She promised him that exactly a year ago and still held it to this day. Falling for him a bit more with every longing touch they shared when he finally arrived back in their bed late at night. The nights falling short for them both, when they remembered that Noel had to be in the studio the next day and Y/n had a job of her own.

Even with the house being empty, she still tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen. For her, there were no expectations as to what Noel might’ve done for their anniversary, though she didn’t expect a lot. Maybe some flowers, a card at best. He was never the best at giving gifts, he knew what he wanted, but knowing what those around him wanted was most often not his strong suit, unless it was something were specific he’d see one day and just buy while waiting for the next opportunity to gift it to someone. If it wasn’t accidental or impulsive, it wouldn’t be much. The biggest present he gave her once for her birthday were a pair of shoes she’d wanted for quite some time already. He’d seen them in a store one day and bought them. Other times, it were just chocolates she’d receive from him.

Still, when she peaked into the living room and onto their dinner table, there was no trace that he even lived there, beside the usual empty coffee mugs or the shoes and coats at the front door. He hadn’t forgotten, had he? He surely hadn’t, Y/n tried to convince herself as she took the empty empty coffee mugs and put them in the sink to clean later. Settling on the sofa and turning the TV on, she thought back to what was hidden in her part of the closet, behind what seemed to be an endless row of dresses. One of them bought just for tonight. Maybe he’d take her out for dinner. A simple reservation could be made quickly with his connections, she thought.

She had noticed his absence, which seemed to be more apparent now than with the album before. Having been friends before, she knew how long he’d usually spent in the studio and how much time he used to spent with his other girlfriends. He was attentive at the beginning of their relationship, what would happen to them after already breaking apart in a year? How much further could they fall? She didn’t want to think about it, but in the quiet of their shared house, there was no around it at some point of the day. Were they truly meant to be like she always believed them to be? Was he truly the man worth fighting for even when her friends told her about all the amazing things their boyfriends - or even husbands - did for them, sacrificing their own time for them? Noel never gave a reason to doubt it, until she spent more time with the TV than him.

The world outside wore a dark grey over the usual green and blue blur of earth and sky. It looked like it might rain in an hour or so. Shutting off the TV, she made her way upstairs again. With a thicker sweater over her body to stay warm and her laptop in her lap, she started getting comfortable on the little patio they had, overlooking their garden and those beyond. She needed to clear her head even when she would freeze while doing so. Working from home was a privilege only the fewest had, but working as a journalist made it all a bit more available for her. The papers she took home from work laid next to her, held safely by an ashtray. Starting to type she started getting lost in the words and stories. Stories that weren’t her own completely, which made it easier to escape reality.

Only coming back once she heard his voice from behind, her fingers stopped typing and felt cold for the first time in two hours. The blood stopped pumping through them like it’d done before, circulating slower and making her hands shake.

“Are you fucking mental?” he asked her, taking the laptop from her lap and pulling her inside. “Are you trying to kill yourself outside in the cold?”

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to tell him, though her argument was worthless the moment he took her freezing hands in his own, warming them up like he’d always do. Shaking his head he continued cursing her under his breath for behaving like that. ‘How can you do stuff this stupid?’ she could hear him muttering. ‘Scaring me like this.’

“I’m fine,” she tried to convince him once more, smiling in assurance and holding his face with her cold hands, making him shiver at the cold touch. Laughing at his reaction she fell into him, leaning closer and ultimately hugging him. Snuggling her face into his chest and sighing in contempt. “I missed you though.”

“I missed you too, love,” Noel said back, holding her close like he was afraid she’d slip away, into the cold again, leaving the warmth all to himself. What was warmth worth if you were lonely?

Angling her head up, she could see his () eyes already watching her, his eyebrows racing in question as he saw the uncertain look on her face. He’d always know whenever there was something on her mind and he never held her back from speaking her mind. Taking in a deep breath, she let out in a small voice, “You’re gone now more often than before.”

“I know, love.” His hand started rubbing up and down her lower back, heating her up. “But it will stop now, I promise.”

“But, you’re not done with the album yet, are you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why won’t you be gone for longer now?”

What was he doing instead? Y/n could feel her insides twist and turn. Churning in fear and exploding with anxiety building up inside of her. Her heart as racing, the beat quickening. If this was a song it would be played in the club, she was sure of it. The blood pumping through her quicker now but she felt colder than before.

What was he doing instead? The words repeated in her head, doubling every second into more question. But this one stayed in the front all the time. Hypothesis after hypothesis appearing in front of her inner eye, playing like a movie she wanted to turn off but couldn’t look away from. It was just too disturbing.

And Noel seemed to notice none of her feelings beside confusion.

“Needed to finish your gift.” Seeing her eyes widen like the movie finally ended, he only laughed at her reaction. “Don’t say you forgot what day it is.”

‘I thought you did,’ she wanted to say. “How could I forget the first time you talked to me with your back turned out of nervousness?” she said instead, bringing a blush to creep up his neck. Noel’s face hiding in the crook of her neck as he laughed in embarrassment just thinking about the situation that took place outside of a pub they were all at.

The two of them had been flirting for some time already, though neither wanted to put a label on what they were doing. With the surprising success of ‘Definitely, Maybe’ Y/n was thankful for even the smallest second she got to spent with two of her favourite people. As one could’ve seen coming from the beginning though, having less than something hurt more than having nothing, at least then she would’ve known where she was at. They both would’ve. Having to watch Y/n dance with some random guy over him and having Liam slur in his ear as to ‘how fucking childish’ he was behaving was the last straw for Noel and the reason why he found himself outside with Y/n by his side in the cold London streets. And then it all just happened. The words flew from his mouth like they’ve never done before, not even when writing songs, and after a long pause from the woman’s side, their lips finally touched in a way they’ve never done before. True passion and love being exchanged between them.

To her, he spoke poetry without thinking much about it.

A talent she hadn’t seen before. One she could never learn. So, listening to him making it feel so easy was an addiction she would never feel guilty of.

“You wanna open your present?” His words were muffled against the skin of her neck, where he laid little kisses for her. His lips travelling further up, over her jaw and cheek until they reached her lips.

“Yes.”

“Wait here,” he instructed her, losing his body from hers and walking back into the kitchen where he left it to go look for her the moment he came back. It wasn’t wrapped nicely, but Liam wanted to help so he let him.

When he came back, Y/n was sat on the sofa, hands clasped together like a child on Christmas. Excitement rushing through her veins. The present was a thin, poorly wrapped, square that was light in her hands. Scrunching her eyebrows together without a clue of what was in her hands, Noel urged her to open it, leaning on the cushion behind the headrest and watching her every move as she neatly loosened the tape from the wrapping material. Grasping the gift, she pulled it out, revealing a vinyl she’d never seen before. A simple white record sleeve over it with a message written on it. A message for her. ‘An apology for all the nights I’ve missed because of this,’ she read.

“What is it?” she asked, gently taking the record from the sleeve, separating them and letting the paper-like material drop to the cushion she sat on. Turning it, she read the tiles first, none of which she recognized, before reading the singer. Noel Gallagher.

Turning her head sharply his way she felt tears prick in her eyes. Mouth agape and her fingers holding the record tight to not drop it. Noel laughed at her reaction, the blush reappearing to his face. “All for you. All eight of them only for you.”

“You produced your own album?”

“Not mine. Ours.

“Nobody will ever hear this beside you, you know? These are just for you.”

[veraoli]

Aspects that show if you’re dating a cheater in astrology

(Remember, not all people with these aspects are cheaters. These are just aspects that are PRONE to cheating if they aren’t self-aware.)

Uranus conjunct venus: A person with this aspect isn’t really comfortable with long-term relationships because they like their independence and freedom. They also get bored easily and can suddenly start liking someone completely different out of the blue because it excites them. They are the type to: “oops” I didn’t mean to kiss them. The impulsive cheaters. But as long as you both keep the spark in this relationship or you are open to letting this person having their freedom and independance, you don’t have to worry.

Neptune square mars: These people can be flirtatious and act like they want you. The truth is they might just be leading you on. They are the type of people to be f*ckin with 5 people at the same time and lying about it if they think you would get hurt by it. People with this aspect are also confused about what they desire and are attracted to. They are the go with the flow type of people and that’s why they can also cheat. Especially when alcohol or drugs are involved. I would suggest only dating them if they show you with actions that they want you because words or s*x isnt really proof that someone loves you.

Lack of saturn aspects to personal planets in the chart: if the person you are dating has no saturn aspects to personal placements (ascendant, venus, moon, mercury, mars, sun) this can create an individual who isnt serious, trust-worthy or reliable. They can lack discipline and might not be able to stay faithful because of this.

Venus in 8H: these people LOVE s*x. That doesn’t mean that they will cheat (this one depends on the aspects). It’s just that they can’t be in a relationship if the s*x is lacking and might go looking elsewhere. So if they suddenly don’t want to have s*x with you, I would be worried if I were you, because…They might have found a new supply😭

Venus square moon: They want a pretty woman/man by their side but once they have it they feel empty. This is because they aren’t connected with their inner emotions and this disconnects them from getting what they actually need. Only liking things for the aesthetic wont make a person happy and thats what they might not really realize. These people might also take you for granted. Sometimes they have an unrealistic view of love and what it truly means. This person can cheat because something is just “missing” from your relationship.

Neptune square venus: they might use love as a form of escapism. They might be dreamy, charming and perfect on the outside but that is because they only tell you what you want to hear. They also really like living in a romantic fantasy story where everything they do is ”for the plot”. Type of people to tell you ”lets get married tomorrow” only to break up with you two weeks later. You can’t trust them because they can’t even trust themselves tbh. I would personally stay away from people with this aspect unless you want to get hurt.

Like for a part 2💜

[sergeantnex]

König x Reader: The Uniform (Smut)

Being a new member of 141, I had very little knowledge of who all were our allies, merely being told I'll meet them when the time is right. So, being placed on the lookout in a new territory and being told someone from our allied faction team called KorTac would come check on me did little to soothe my nerves. A smooth German accent came through my earpiece, informing me the male was headed in my direction. I could hear the male's footsteps as he approached my position from behind. Glancing back, my eyes widened as I took in the sight of a 6' 10" male approached. Red night vision goggles resting over his eyes, his tan uniform accented by the black and red colored gear he wore.

Normally, being surrounded by men in uniforms was one thing, but this guy and his uniform? This was completely different. The sheer size of him and his lean figure graced with such a dominating aura that followed him sent tingles of excitement and arousal down my spine. I studied him as he approached my prone form, his cocks outline visible through his pants. The sight made my mouth water with eagerness to have such a monster of a cock however he would be willing give it. The male moved to lay prone with me and lifted his night vision goggles. With how close he was, I could make out his sapphire blue hues surrounded by black grease paint.

"I'm König, I will be your teammate for this mission." He greeted, his voice sounding calm while his blue hues swirled with anxiety. I offered a gentle and welcoming smile as I greeted him back, giving him my callsign. His name rang a bell, I remember hearing the team talk about him sure. I thought Soap was joking, and he called the man a mountain, but damn! Something about this man excited me, made me feel submissive and eager to please. Was it how much smaller I was? Maybe it was his aura? It could be a million and one thing, that's for sure, but the mission came first.

I kept a quiet casual conversation going with him, talking about where he was from, even talking about him teaching me some German. He seemed to relax the more we quietly spoke, which made me feel warm and jittery. Although this giant male had one thing I didn't. Those sick night vision goggles. I open my mouth to speak only for him to wrap his hand over my mouth and adjust himself over my back. The front of his vest resting against my back and his hips resting flush against my own. His flaccid cock pressing against my ass only drove me to want to press back into him. I could hear the footsteps and quiet talking in a different language, I couldn't understand, as he laid over me.

My uniform wasn't exactly the best to be trying to blend in with the darkness of the night. His did a better job at blending in with the surroundings than my own, and with his goggles, he could see the enemies to see if we were in any trouble. The more he softly rested on me, the more I felt the desire and impulse to seek sexual contact. I took a risk and gently licked his gloved palm, quickly drawing his attention. I could see his blue eyes widen with shock as I peered up at him innocently. His attention quickly went back to the soldiers patrolling the path near our position. We weren't supposed to engage unless they spotted us or got too close. So feeling pretty in the clear, I softly lifted my ass agaisnt his clothed flaccid cock.

He softly grunts as I keep softly grinding my hips back against his. König presses his gloved middle finger into my mouth, letting me wet the fabric as I softly started sucking. I could feel his cock twitch and begin to harden as I lightly moan around his finger. König gently grinds his hips against my own letting his cock rut against my ass smoothly. Once we were in the clear, König groaned out and pressed against me harder. I learned very quickly that most men in the military were eager for sexual contact. Especially men in higher ranks, they were always stressed and needed something to take that stress away. I had slept with my Lieutenant many times due to how stressed he was after missions of after long days of training recruits. I wasn't sure what König's rank was, but at this point, I honestly didn't care.

"Scheiße... you little minx." König growled as he pulled his hand away to tug at my uniform pants. I quickly and quietly undid my pants, tugging them and my underwear down just enough to expose myself to him. I could hear him doing the same before the heavy weight of his thick cock tapped against my ass. He used his hand to press his whole length against my ass as he ruts his hips softly. I slightly pant as I do my best to stay quiet, letting him lift my hips up slightly. The sound of him spitting reached my ears as his spit dripped down my ass. I gasp as he begins pressing his tip into me, and I feel my walls stretching to accommodate him.

"Tell me, luder, do you let anyone do this?" He mocked sinking his cock into me until he was fully seated in me. His cock feeling better than anything I had used in the past week to seek the pleasure of being fucked. König was thick and long, his pretty cock carrying a weight that would satisfy anyone. His heavy balls rested on the back of my thighs from how I was positioned below him.

"No sir, you're special~" I purred, arching my lower back to allow him better access to fuck me. He growled something in German as he began pulling out only to press forward again. The pace was slower than either of us wanted, but we couldn't risk being caught. Of course, we weren't supposed to be having sex either, but neither of us could pass this up. König's voice was low, his breath mixing with soft moans. Hearing such an intimidating guy make such noises in my ear only drove me closer to my orgasm. It was like when Ghost and I had sex, hearing the gruff noises and low moans from my lieutenant were such a weak spot for me. My walls flutter around him as his cock began twitching with his own approaching orgasm. I whine out his name as I began cumming, his hips changing to grind into me as he begins cumming as well.

"Open your mouth, luder. Clean my cock for me ja?" König commanded lightly as he pulls out and moves to press his cock in my mouth. I moan softly around his girth as I take him as deep as I can manage. Licking and sucking away any mess we made until he hissed and pulled away. König and I quickly fixed our clothes before he moved back to my side. His hand softly lingered on my lower back as he checked our surroundings. Once, he was satisfied with it being clear and laid back next to me.

"What made you decide to act such a way? You just met me, luder." König asked, seeming more curious now than nervous as he sees we are safe.

"At first, it was your uniform, the way it frames you in all the right places. It gives you a certain... aura. But now, you can fuck me anytime we work together again." I tease softly but showing that I mean my words. König chuckles softly as he resumes overwatch with me. My excited jittery energy came to a harsh halt when I heard Ghost come over my earpiece.

"Are you done fucking the Colonel?" His gravelly British voice mocked into my ear. I tensed and felt a heavy stone of mixed emotions hit my guts. Embarrassment because I forgot Ghost was on my channel in case I ran into any trouble and shock because this gentle giant of a man was the Colonel of our allied faction. I looked in the direction of where I knew Ghost's position was.

"Ghost... you-.." I started only to be cut off by my lieutenant.

"Yes, Private, I saw and heard every bit of that. Perhaps you'd like a lesson in what I meant when I said I don't share toys." He remarked before going quiet. My body filled with excitment at the thoughts of what he would do to me when the mission was over. Maybe I could convince him to share me with König...

[eletricheart]

Hii i wanted to ask if you could do Donna Beneviento with a fem! s/o whos like Alastor from Hazbin Hotel? You dont have to do this request if you dont want to, no pressure!

Me and the Devil

(Donna Beneviento x fem!reader)

*pic from pinterest

Word count: 757

So, I've never seen this show so this was a bit hard to write, sorry for the short lenght. I hope it's good, i tried to make some research on the character but wiki only goes so far😭

ps: sorry for the long wait too😔✌

ps2: its fluff btw, i promise

ps3: not proofread pls lmk any mistakes

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Donna met…well…noticed your presence at her workshop every week when she worked with human subjects. The dollmaker was afraid at first but chose to remain calm, silently working and observing your moves. It went on for months, making Donna even used to your hidden company.

You met her after three months of stalking, finally deciding to ask the purpose of her actions, which she didn't answer. So you kept returning, week after week, slowly getting closer and asking more questions.

Angie met you once she noticed the dollmaker taking longer to leave the workshop. The doll was distrustful at first but soon enough you won her over by playing with her shadow. You regretted that decision after her chasing you around demanding you played with her.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You found yourself following the directions of a doll into the village.

Earlier on the day Donna had expressed her wish for new tolls to which you responded by saying why she didn't buy it before it ended, to which started an argument on responsibility.

Now, you pride yourself in being the strongest being alive and dead, taking orders from no one. Therefore, your current predicament was completely your choice.

You had easily found the man named Duke, his carriage surrounded by commoners who quickly made way once seeing Angie. You didn't like the people around you, in fact was close enough to hating them.

You were watching Angie speaking to the Duke when a villager touched your shoulder. You weren't impulsive, of course not, he just dropped dead, on his own.

With the noise of the body falling followed by the townsfolk screaming and running off. Angie turned to look at your smiling face. “What the hell did you?!”

You smiled looking from the body to the doll. “Well…I sucked the soul out of his body, obviously. Touching someone without their consent is very impolite.”

After this occurrence the doll loved going out with you, getting more excited every time you killed someone, by accident of course.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Rainy day

You were sitting on Donna’s couch fixing the radio while the dollmaker knitted on a nearby armchair.

Donna turned to stare at you shaking the radio. “Why don't you sing yourself? It’ll sound the same.”

You looked up with furrowed eyebrows, blinking slowly while staring back at her. “No. Unless you’d give me something in return.” You said, turning your confused face into a smile.

Donna rolled her eyes behind her veil. “No.”

You shrugged and returned to your task, successfully fixing the radio.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Angie’s birthday

After questioning Donna on how a doll has a birthday, you fell into an easy silence while baking a cake and some sweets for the dolls.

The dollmaker noticed your apparent skills, slowly trusting you more with her kitchen. “I didn't think demons had baking lessons in hell.”

You turned to her with a sly smile. “Making jokes, huh. Well, I didn't learn it in hell.”

Donna smiled and threw some flour at you. “How did you learn it then?”

You chuckled, cleaning your face from the attack. “My mother taught me, you would've liked her.”

The Lady nodded. “I’m sure I would've.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Something new

You were standing in front of her workshop, holding a pot with a single flower in your hands. You stayed still for a few minutes before having the courage to knock.

It didn't take long for you to hear the ‘come in’ and make your way around the hanging wood pieces.

You stood in front of her, holding the flower to her face. “I made it.”

Donna stared back and forth between your face and the floor before speaking. “I don't recognize it.”

You scuffed. “Because I made it, it’s mine.”

The dollmaker gently took the pot from your hands, holding it dearly. “You made me a flower.”

You tilted your head at her. “Yes, I’ve said it twice.”

Donna nodded. “Wait outside, please.”

And so you did, walking around in circles in the hall waiting for her to open the door again. You weren't nervous, you didn't have a reason to be since not fully understood why you felt the need to make her a flower. You were bored, and so you walked.

The dollmaker opened the door after an hour, holding a wooden flower. “I could've made you a normal flower too, but you’ve already seen all of the ones I can do. So…here’s something new.”

You carefully took the flower from her hands and smiled sincerely. “It’s mine now.”

Donna laughed. “It’s yours.”

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

requests are open: masterlist

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case— The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

The good lord (me) intended this to be an OC x Eddie fanfic, and by god, that’s what y’all are getting from here on. The original reader insert series will be discontinued for now, unless I really get the urge to go back and revisit it.

For now, just enjoy what I originally wanted. Which was over 3,000 words of self indulgent OC fanfic to help me get past these dark times. Life is too short to worry about being cringy.

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses).

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

Pairings: Eddie Munson x OC

Word Count: 4,088 words

Chapter One - Don’t Talk to Strangers

“I'm danger, I'm the stranger.

And I, I'm darkness, I'm anger, I'm pain…”

Hawkins, Indiana was going to be hell on earth. Of that, Alejandra Perea was certain.

She didn’t want to move here in the first place. This whole situation was horseshit. Spur of the moment pendejadas from the family matriarch in command of a newly formed triad where there had once been a quartet. Leaving everything behind, even if it meant new and exciting things on the horizon, it wasn’t necessary. The family did not need a fresh start over in a new state.

No, what everyone needed to do was to start looking harder. She could still remember the advice given to her nearly a year ago, as it was the only solid and reliable advice she had received at the time. Expand the search area, but make sure at least one person stays at the home base. Keep the name in the media as much as possible, even if it meant taking out another loan to buy airtime on the radio stations locally. Question everything. Look for abnormalities, and above all: report, report, report!

Doing something was better than doing nothing, and if Alejandra’s family was any kind of concerned, they would be more aware of the rampant corruption and blatant conspiracy afoot throughout this whole situation. She could see the truth laid out in front of her, especially when there was a way to physically connect the dots. Soon she’d need another Big Chief Tablet to jot down her notes, and since the one sad little general store in town didn’t even have what she needed, the lack of consistency and the unfamiliar stationery was already making her panic.

So instead of playing pretend— telling herself that she would bide her time until she could find a way back home— Alejandra decided she was going to do what she did best when she wasn’t listened to: shut out the entire world, and focus her attention inward as her plan formulated.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…

“Sit up right, huevona! You’re going to mark my seats.”

Reluctantly, Alejandra slid her feet off the tan leather bucket seat, hoping that the battered treads of her Chucks left marks. Instead of facing her mother’s lecture, Alejandra spent the morning commute looking out the window with a scowl. She wanted to be anywhere but here. This podunk midwestern vibe was horrible. Unfamiliar. A hostile environment of mostly blue collar workers that could sniff out even the most light skinned Latina in a crowded room. Like a petulant child, she kept her thick framed glasses smudged with the oil from her cheeks. Just so she wouldn’t have to actually see Hawkins.

Her mother – Carla Perea– obviously noticed the scowl, and she sighed deeply before trying to speak again.

“I know you’re not happy, but this is a new start for us. Try to make the best of it, huh?”

Alejandra kicked at her blue Jansport backpack.

“And why couldn’t we just have moved somewhere else in New Mexico?! Chingao, you didn’t even think about it, you just put your finger on the map and ya!”

“Watch your mouth, Alejandra.” mom snapped, “And stop with that mocho talk! You know it wasn’t just putting a finger and ya. We needed a fresh start, and Hawkins was the best choice we could make. It wasn’t as impulsive as you make it out to be, it’s what’s best for all three of us.”

“And what the hell about dad?!” Alejandra demanded. “Huh?! How the shit are you honoring your marriage vows by just abandoning him like that?! Better or for worse my fucking asshole!”

Her mother's eyes narrowed as she drove. Obviously her daughter’s backtalk had hit a raw nerve. One of Alejandra’s new found talents was shit talking, the same venomous spitting that only cobras in certain parts of Africa and Asia had mastered. It had only been a year and some change since she’d honed the skill, but this kind of irate wit was too well honed for it to be new.

This talent had been latent. As if waiting for the perfect opportunity…

“What’s done is done.” Carla hissed, knuckles going from tawny brown to white grip, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.

“It’s been over a year, it’s time to accept he’s not coming back. Basta!”

“Bullshit…” Alejandra hissed.

And she would have kept going, if not for Carla deciding that morning to wear her leather belt around the waistline of her denim dress. And not just any belt. Oh no… It was the thick one with the sterling silver Gary Reeves buckle.

The thing about Gary Reeves: his silver work conchos with the fine needlepoint lines hurt like a motherfucker. Especially if there weren't any soft turquoise chunks on the front to cushion your ass from a chingazo. Alejandra wasn’t wearing the right kind of clothes for a fight, anyway. Months of trial and error taught her that her Wrangler culottes – along with a paperback copy of Heretics of Dune tucked in the back pocket– were the only acceptable armor if she wanted to talk shit back to her mother.

So instead of pushing her luck, Alejandra quietly resigned herself to her repetition. Unwilling and unmotivated to start a battle, when her mother was armed and willing to pull off into a Hawkins public parking lot to humiliate them both.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The Dodge Aspen continued down the unfamiliar streets at a snail’s crawl. Cars boxed them into the single lane going down Cherry Street towards the cluster of schools. Even though the realtor had boasted about the house’s proximity to the finest education in Roane County, the motorists of Hawkins, Indiana managed to turn a ten-minute drive into almost forty-five minutes. Luckily, Carla had anticipated this.

By five thirty that morning, mom was already blasting a mixtape of los classicos, banging on Alejandra’s bedroom door and setting off the barking of the family’s two dogs. Tiffany had almost tripped Alejandra in the bathroom, both dog and girl yelping as Alejandra stumbled and nearly smacked her head on the counter. Scruffy had refused to go outside into the dog run, so everyone stopped what they were doing and aided in chasing him out the back door into the yard with Tiffany at his heels.

And then that darned cat…

Unruly and orange Ripley had puked all over Jaime’s work pants, while he screamed at Alejandra to help him find another pair in his mess of a room. Useless from years of mi hito syndrome, he complained when his sister refused vehemently to take time from blow drying her curls to iron his creases. They’d gotten into a screaming match, until Carla finally conceded to do it for her son to “keep the peace”.

It had been a shitshow of a morning, an omen of things to come.

Carla blasted the horn at a green Gaucho with a white stripe that nearly sideswiped her, the dented vehicle trying to cut in front of their sedan into the lane and nearly taking out a couple of other cars with it.

“Pinches babosos!” Carla growled under her breath.

Alejandra was too pissed off to laugh.

The two women stayed in silence for some time, until at last Alejandra spoke up.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with raza at least? Like California?” she muttered, watching the faces of a group of younger teens crossing on bikes at the light.

“I’m light skinned, and I bet I’m the darkest one at school… A la chingada mujer.”

“What does it matter if there’s no raza here?!” Carla demanded, pounding her fist on the tan leather of the middle console, “Get over it. There’s no way we could have managed in California. I’m not going to kill myself working three jobs with your tios in Lynwood!”

“Enserio, mom?! You waited until right at the start of senior year, you didn’t want to wait?” Alejandra whined.

“Wait for what? Wait for you to fail another year in Pojoaque?!” Carla hissed, clearly fed up with her daughter’s bullshit, “I’m not waiting on you to pull your head out from your ass. So shut your mouth, and quit complaining or I will pull this car over. I swear to God.”

Alejandra shut her mouth. She tucked herself into the side of the passenger door with arms crossed, laying her head on the cool glass of the window and curtaining her teary brown eyes with her dark hair.

What could she say back to that?

Her mother was right. A reminder that she was a failure wasn’t necessary. The reminders of lost scholarships and a tanked GPA would follow her the rest of her life. And sometimes, if Alejandra pressed hard enough on the backs of her thighs, she could still feel the sting from the welts she’d gotten for failing senior year back at Pojoaque High School.

This change was stupid. A lot had changed in the past year. Too many things.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The reasonably happy, vibrant teenage girl that her mother knew was gone. Instead she was replaced by a bitter, angry young adult at eighteen years of age that had her innocence ripped away too young. Alejandra was now compulsive in her actions. Self-soothing in the oddest ways as old, pre-established habits became worse or new symptoms developed.

Pacing up and down the hallway listening to music on full blast was not anything new, chewing on the cuffs of her clothes or on the floss of her friendship bracelets was. As was the rebellion of dyeing all of her clothes some shade of black or gray. Carla had lost her mind when she saw all of the blouses, skirts, and Gunne Sax dresses had been dyed one weekend. It had taken hours to get the stains out of the washer and out of the bathtub at the old apartment back in New Mexico. Chalk that up to another lesson from the Gary Reeves belt.

And then she started failing all of her classes…

Much like any child, Alejandra had always been a bit of a space case. Living half in her imagination and reading weird books, or bothering her parents with second hand anecdotes of aliens and weird monsters. Like any other student, she wanted to spend her afternoons at play rather than at the family dinner table doing homework. Yet that had all been innocent fun. Science fiction books and fairy movies did not a troubled teen make, but lately that vivid imagination was shrouded in grimdark. She read gory novels of true crime and abductions, of both the supernatural and natural genre, rather than bothering with anything like cracking open a chemistry book or meeting her tutor at the library for help with remedial math.

Obsessive thoughts, spiteful biting comments, obsessions with dark media, lashing out and isolating away from everyone… This was not normal. This was not Alejandra Perea’s normal. To everyone else, it wasn’t like her not to care about things.

But she did care. Just not about the things everyone else thought was important.

She currently cared only about two things: the death of Frank Herbert, and Hector Filemón Perea.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

“Mija, I know this isn’t ideal. But you’re strong. You’re going to do fine. Just please… Please try to make the best of this situation. Do it for me, huh?”

The scenery of green trees scattered among the brick-and-mortar buildings of Hawkins held no interest for Alejandra as she ignored her mother. Normally, she would have been captivated by all the greenery. Save for a few day trips to the Jemez Mountains, Alejandra had spent the majority of her life staring at the same desert scrub brush, sand wastes, clay mountains, and adobe houses. Along the road, there were trees and quaint little homes painted daisy yellow, gray white, or the occasional brick and mortar Georgian style home if the occupants were wealthy.

Not one person had the familiar mud brick walls or coyote fencing made of latillas and bailing wire.

Hawkins had boasted four seasons, farmlands with adorable animals, and that unique charm only available in a majority blue collar midwestern town. New Mexico had maybe three seasons and pissed off raza, but she would have given up four seasons and Midwestern charm for the sand and red clay mountains any day. New Mexico was closer to what was important.

New Mexico was closer to dad…

It only got worse as the car approached the high school. Carla pulled into the drop lane; the car still idle as she stared her daughter down with a hard gaze.

Absolutely no move was made to exit the vehicle despite the impatience of the cars behind them. Alejandra stared at the collective student body of Hawkins High with disdain, downright disgust even. As if she would rather swallow glass than get out of the Dodge. She began chewing on the sleeve of her large jacket, already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead from the balmy morning with high humidity.

“Stop chewing on it, you mensa, you’re going to ruin the sleeve!” Carla barked, swatting her daughter’s hand.

Alejandra moved the cuff away from her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she focused on fishing in the pocket of her oversized jacket for her one escape that didn’t have wheels. She produced a battered Walkman with a scratch and sniff sticker on the back. After opening the tape deck, she rooted through the various jewel cases of cassettes in her Igloo Playmate, yanking out a well loved tape from the depths and popping it in.

She pressed play. The volume was turned up so high that her mother scowled when she heard what was blasting from the orange foam speakers of the headphones.

“Come on mija, you couldn’t pick something happier for your first day?”

“Nope.” Alejandra growled, pushing the Walkman into her jacket pocket, “I’m not picking shit else. I’m going to play this fucking tape so loud, that everyone is going to stay far the fuck away from me. Fuck these people, and fuck you too.”

Despite her mother’s sputtering protests and grabbing hands she unbuckled herself, threw open the car door, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and slammed the car door on the way out as she ran towards the double doors.

Not even a whole minute had passed, and already Alejandra was making enemies out of the preppy crowd of Hawkins High. Stomping her way through throngs of students to the front office, she bumped the shoulders of anyone who got in her way, nearly sending some lanky string bean of a freshman flying into his little group of friends.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, frigid bitch!”

She barely heard him over the music, but she did catch the insult.

Who cares? Kick rocks. Kiss my ass. Fuck yourself with a bent tire iron, you little fucking twerp.

I will face my fear… I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

She hoped the coordination of the day would repel everyone too, not just her shitty attitude. Unlike everyone else who had set up their first day back ensembles with care the night before, Alejandra threw whatever she had on hand on. That morning she came to school in a black cardigan layered over top a gray linen dress, black tights layered with dirty socks, beat up Chuck Taylors that had been everywhere from White Sands to TRC, and her dark brown curls straightened with her trusty Gillette Supermax, sprayed in place with a liberal amount of Aquanet. The piece de resistance was the jacket. Even though it was the end of August, she wore a large Carhartt jacket covered in kitschy buttons and patches. Even in the hottest months of the year, that damn thing never came off.

“What are you wearing that jacket for?” asked the school admin assistant, in lieu of a good morning.

Alejandra shrugged noncommittally as she removed her headphones. She stood awkwardly in the front office, and was about to say some smart ass remark when the admin’s hard stare stopped her sharp tongue short.

“... you’re going to boil alive before lunch…” muttered the admin, fanning her neck with a manilla folder, “Heavens to Betsy, I’m sweating just looking at you!”

“... I’m a new student. May I have my school schedule, please…?” Alejandra grunted.

“Ah.” nodded the admin, pulling open one of the drawers on her filing cabinet, “Name?”

“Alejandra Perea…”

“There’s no one here by that name. I only see an Alexandra Pera here.”

Alejandra winced.

Are you fucking kidding me, bitch? Where on my fucking birth certificate did it ever say fucking “Alexandra”?! And how in the hell is “Perea” too difficult for you to say?!

“Yeah… That’s me.” she admitted, then couldn’t help herself, “Alexandra Perea.”

The admin stared down from her imposing cherry wood desk, eyes laser focused at Alejandra from over the top of her large bifocals. Evidently, she did not appreciate being corrected.

“Young lady…” snapped the admin, tapping her eggplant colored nails against a file folder, “We do not tolerate troublemakers at this school. I suggest you quit playing your little games, and say your name correctly when asked. Is that clear?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you-...

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am…” Alejandra muttered, looking at her shoes as she took the class schedule and locker assignment from the admin.

The headphones went back on as soon as the admin was done talking. That poor Walkman was blasting so loud, everyone else in the hallway was forced to listen in on James Hetfield’s vocals. That fucking bitch of an admin pissed Alejandra off so much, she could not help but lunge at and startle a few innocent girls in pastel color culottes as they passed by. It was her one line of defense; to deter the general populace of Hawkins High, she had decided to be a goddamned menace to anyone who could not give her a detention.

It was unfortunate really, because no matter how hard Alejandra tried to deter everyone away, it took her ten minutes to realize that Hawkins High– home of the Tigers– had fangs that could snap even the most ironclad of wills in half.

She was drastically underprepared for the high schooler’s reception to her take no shit attitude. One big dude in a letterman that she shoulder checked did not hesitate. He checked her right back, right into the tan lockers lining the halls. The resounding crash of her body colliding with metal was loud and embarrassing, causing a few passing members of the pep squad to point and laugh. As they passed they said hateful, evil, ignorant shit, screaming it into Alejandra’s ear while yanking her headphones off. They wanted her to hear everything. One even yelled out a slur.

All the hate caught her off guard, and she almost checked someone else by accident.

“Watch where you’re going, fucking gap tooth bitch!”

A foot flashed out from some wastoid and sent Alejandra toppling. She would have hit the floor and broken her glasses, had not her oversized jacket caught on the door handle to the girl’s bathroom. She hung there for a few seconds, and felt everyone’s eyes on her. Ugly peals of laughter followed. Her face turned crimson.

I will permit my fear… no… I will allow… No! I… I will permit my fear to pass over me and… and through me…?

It was fucking humiliating. She wanted everyone to go away and leave her alone. Yet in her hubris and rebellion, the attempts at being a badass only ended up attracting every kind of attention she did not want.

Pulling herself off the handle, she immediately threw open the door and hid in the girl’s bathroom. Pushing past a girl in a blue gingham sundress and a strawberry blonde side ponytail, she ran for the nearest empty stall to lock herself in. The tears could not wait until she was sure the bathroom was empty. Loud and uncontrolled sobs began to emit from her throat, the noises so awkward she did not hear the whispers of the other girls as they exited the facilities.

Fuck this day. Fuck this town. Her arm was hurting from where she hit the lockers, her pride was wounded, and Alejandra wanted out. If she could just run away now and hitchhike with the first car she saw, she would do it.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

This was not how the second senior year was supposed to go. Senior year was supposed to be the last hoorah. A happy time to start preparing for reality. For college plans. Not a time to be stuck in a small Midwestern town that felt like a foreign country. And certainly not a time to be dealing with racist, shit attitudes.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Dainty footsteps approached the stall as Alejandra bawled like a baby, a soft knock on the door making her freeze.

“Go away!” she cried, voice small and hoarse from the sobbing.

I will face my fear…

“… Hey it’s… It’s going to be okay…”

A soft, delicate voice answered. Not one familiar tone in that voice, the only hint to the identity of the one speaking was a pair of powder blue pumps at the opening of the bottom of the stall. Alejandra did not know the girl, nor did she want to.

“Go away…” she begged, face burning with embarrassment as she groveled like a prisoner for her freedom.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

“Please… Please just go away and leave me alone!”

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see that you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, cabrona… Quien te tiene?

The blue pumps hesitated, but eventually walked away. Leaving Alejandra to her sobbing.

She sat there on the toilet crying until the late bell rang, and everyone had cleared out of the bathroom to their first period class. With her glasses all smudged up from tears and snot, she took a moment to wipe them off with the hem of her dress, and eventually exited the stall with her tail between her legs.

Stopping at the sink, she began cleaning up. Alejandra took off her glasses and began washing her face with cold water. Blotting with a paper towel, she took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, before making up her mind.

She would not be going to class today, or ever again for that matter.

Every part of her mind was made up. Now it would only be a matter of time to find an out.

The gears were turning as she put her headphones on, fast forwarding the cassette to her favorite song before sliding the orange headphones over her ears. Maybe she could walk home, steal Jaime’s ranfla to make her escape. No, probably she should walk down the road to the elementary school and steal the Aspen. Mom’s sedan was inconspicuous, and it would blend into the sea of cars on the freeway better than Jaime’s well loved blue 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo.

Besides, the Chevy was out of the question until Jaime got back from work at the Hawkins Water Utility, and she was not going to wait that long for him to come home. The elementary school was a closer walk, and as she walked out of the girls bathroom without checking if the coast was clear, she began to formulate how she was going to break into and hotwire her mom’s car (she knew how to do neither of these things, but she thought a good old college try couldn’t hurt).

As Alejandra power walked to the front entrance double doors, she heard nothing. Saw only the sweet promise of freedom. Walking quickly, unaware of the noise she was making, and drastically underprepared for the biggest shock of her life.

She felt herself being snagged by the backpack straps, her heart dropping into her ass as she was pulled to a chest.

The headphones were yanked from her ears, and a low voice with hot breath began muttering in her ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess.”

Alejandra jumped ten feet, and screamed.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!”

“ Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken. ” - Frank Herbert

[fireofjudgement]

Marking the territory

Requested here

Fandom: Alice in Borderland

Pairing: Niragi x gn!reader

Summary: Being a militant at the Beach might sound exciting to some, but to you it's mostly doing Hatter's dirty work, late night patrols and worst of all - boring meetings. This particular one started off just like the others but thanks to a new member it would quickly go downhill.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: swearing, established relationship between reader and Niragi, mentions of alcohol, nudity, teasing, public sex, exhibitionism, oral sex, jealousy, requested reader was feminine I think but i didn't mention any genitals or specific pronouns so I tagged it as gn reader - please let me know if I missed a part that would suggest otherwise

A/N: Yes, I turned a simple request into a rant about Niragi's exhibitionist kink, what are you gonna do about it. And yes, this is the first thing I'm posting after like six months, you're welcome 😌

--

"And why exactly did I just waste a fucking hour listening to some..newbie's life story?"

You relaxed your face, careful not to show your amusement at Niragi's words. You lived at the Beach long enough to understand that the militants and executives were basically Hatter's chosen family - their so-called duties weren't always taken too seriously. He did like to play pretend however and look professional, in front of newcomers at least. Something something elite organization, something something only the best players. Usually you'd all play along, but clearly someone had other plans today.

"Hmm..Let's see." Of course Hatter had to pretend to take Niragi's question seriously. You've yet to see him break character in front of a new member. "Considering the fact that it's only ten in the morning, on a Monday no less, and yet Aguni had to drag you, in his own words, out of the bar and threaten to take your beloved weapon away, just for you to put a shirt on- I simply assumed you didn't have anything better to do anyway. Please forgive me if I was wrong."

"You are indeed wrong, Hatter." It was almost impressive how the obvious irony in the older man's voice seemingly escaped Niragi's attention completely. You had a theory as to what was occupying his mind at the moment though, and his next words only confirmed it. "I could think of someone..I mean something I'd rather be doing right now. Preferably shirtless." He said the last part looking directly at you, a smirk on his handsome face. 

You were trying your best to control yourself, unwilling to entertain your boyfriend in front of a stranger, but it was getting hard with the way he was looking at you. You knew he'd take you right then and there if he could, on that very table you were sitting at. It wouldn't be the first time either. Suddenly your brain was flooded with images from the past, in-between or after meetings, when it was just the two of you. Niragi wasn't a patient man, that much you were able to figure out before you even talked to him for the first time. Seeing him lose his temper at even the slightest mistake of another member was a common occurrence. He liked to get straight to the point and his impulsiveness transferred into every aspect of his life. Sex was no exception to that rule.

Unless there was even the slightest possibility of having an audience. It wasn't until some random, probably drunk and/or high, person stumbled into your room while your boyfriend was going down on you, that you realized he might have a thing for being watched. It was as if a switch was flipped inside his mind that day. Ever since then the meeting room became his favorite place- he could spend hours exploring your body, his hands and lips marking every inch of it, bringing you as close to release as possible, only to withdraw completely over and over again.

You could only guess how many of your friends have seen you all fucked out, a shaking and drooling mess, all while he didn't lose a single piece of clothing. He'd never share you and you felt bad for all those poor idiots who attempted to flirt with you only to never be seen again, but he loved nothing more than to show you off, make everyone see that you're his and nobody else can have you. Damned be the person who figured out how to charge the phones given to players during each game.

"And what about you, Y/N?" The sound of your name snapped you out of your thoughts, the looks on the other executives' faces clearly suggesting they all knew what you were fantasizing about. At that moment you wished you paid enough attention to answer Hatter's question. You shot him a begging look, hoping he'd have mercy on you this time. "What do you want to say to our newest member?" He granted your wish, but not without a loud, exaggerated sigh. 

Oh, so that's what it was about. Thinking about it now, you had a lot to say to her. Starting with the fact that you noticed how she looked at your boyfriend ever since she entered the room. That everyone else noticed too. How ridiculous she looked trying to catch his attention and how annoying and unnatural her voice sounded the entire time. And most importantly, that it would be better if she stopped embarrassing herself - Niragi didn't look her way even once, you knew for sure he would forget there was a new member introduced that day as soon as everyone leaves the room. Your relationship was far from perfect but jealousy was not something you ever had to worry about. The thought of having him all to yourself later filled you with excitement but for now you had to stay focused. 

"Welcome to the family!" You exclaimed instead of voicing your thoughts, in a sickeningly sweet tone, with the fakest smile you could muster glued to your face. "It's always a pleasure to meet people with such a..positive attitude." Your last sentence caused some barely contained laughter among the other executives. Even Aguni looked a little less intimidating than usual. It was hard not to notice the newbie's poor attempts at flirting, the only oblivious one remaining was ironically enough the very target of these attempts. Or at least that's what you thought. 

Hesitantly, you got up from your seat to properly greet the girl, as you did with every new member. It was awkward to say the least, forcing yourself to be so friendly with someone who probably hated everything about you. Maybe except your significant other. Luckily, judging by the amount of cards she presented to Hatter upon joining, you didn't think she'd last long at the Beach. 

Finally, after the longest and most uncomfortable hug and hand shake of your life, you made your way back to your seat. A loud gasp escaped your lips when suddenly you felt someone's hands firmly grabbing your waist, pulling you into their lap. It was unexpected and it caught you off guard, but you soon recognized your boyfriend and calmed down a little. It was quite unusual for him to act that way. You started to think that maybe he wanted to tell you something without the others noticing, but no, he wasn't even facing you. You followed his gaze and..oh. You couldn't hold that smile in anymore, not when the new girl was staring at the two of you with such pure disgust written all over her face. It definitely didn't suit her, you had to admit. But it wasn't exactly your fault that you and Niragi made for one hot couple.

That's when it finally occurred to you however, that he did, in fact, notice her advances. He just waited for a perfect moment to shut them down, and since he couldn't just fuck you right then and there in front of everyone..he settled for the next best thing. It would be an understatement to say that him acting so possessive, though in such a subtle way, made you incredibly horny. Now that you were so close you could tell he was excited too. And judging by how fast the girl stormed out of the room after the meeting was done, she must have received the message, loud and clear. When all of the other members left the room, you knew Niragi would show you that he only wanted you. You also knew that Hatter and Aguni would not let this go for a very long time, but you'd deal with that later. Much, much later.

[garamdx]

: / / LOADING … OH GARAM / /

20021106, 05:58 AM

INCUBUS PHYSIOLOGY

SUPERNATURAL BEAUTY

DEMONIC HELEN OF TROY

: / / LOADING … AUTHOR'S NOTE / /

hello, everyone! my name is ryan (he/him, 28+) and i'm so excited to be here with all of you. 🤍 garam is a beloved muse of mine and while he's here to raise a little hell here and there, i hope that he'll smoothly fit in with all your muses. if you're interested in plotting, please 🖤 this post and i'll reach out to you as soon as possible. i have d//scord available by request, so lmk if that's easier! ngl, it's easier for me, so... there's that! 💜

: / / LOADING … BACKGROUND / /

born in bum-fuck nowhere south korea to a family of cultists.

he’s the disappointment, the “defect”, in his family.

his physiology is that of an incubus, much like the rest of his brothers, but his demonic abilities are basically non-existent.

garam’s beautiful to behold, always has been. that’s about it.

at 16, his lust aura made itself apparent. it… was awkward.

once he turned 20, he was banished from his home, and he arrived in seoul—specifically district x—to start a new life.

he seduced plenty of rich men to survive, but now lives on his own and works as an influencer; bewitching his followers.

he was recently diagnosed with impulsive bpd.

he’s currently being treated for it; takes it a day at a time.

above all, garam really just wants to be loved for who he is.

: / / LOADING … PERSONALITY / /

garam is someone who possesses immense passions. even outside of his mental health issues, his emotions are felt deeply; profoundly. sometimes they feel heavy, but other times, especially in blissful moments, they bring him such pure, unadulterated joy that making good memories comes easily. when he's fun, he's fun. he lilts unexpected, crazy things; he orbits around his loved ones; he learns everyone's secrets, their desires, and their aspirations, and if he's loyal to you, he'll make sure you receive every single once; he's like lightning. however, he's someone who doesn't make himself easy to know, and that's for a variety of reasons. above all, he just doesn't like when people are all up his ass about things that don't involve them. if he has something to tell you, then he'll tell you. if he wants to keep something to himself, he will. that said, what makes him hypocritical is, despite concealing parts of himself, he wants to know everything about you. literally everything. he doesn't give a fuck about what you ate for lunch, he wants to know who you'd die for. i'll warn you now, he's hyper-sexual. even if he's not pursuing someone, he loves talking about sex and debauchery. again, he loves the taboo and the things that people don't often open up about. that, and at his core, he's a fucking sex demon. he won't apologize, but i'll apologize in advance for his perversion. he was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, and he's been in therapy for it for a few months now. there's for sure been improvements, but it's still a daily struggle. he's vowed to try to be better, though. he doesn't want his past to affect him as badly as it does, so learning to cope/moving on is his top priority. there's one thing about him that'll be obvious upon first meeting. you will find him beautiful. unless you have abilities that make you immune, his beauty is obvious and striking. as he's homosexual, it tends to rouse much more intense responses by members of the same sex, but the opposite often find him appealing, as well. don't touch his horns without permission.

: / / LOADING … PLOTLINES / /

i prefer to brainstorm plots! 💜 talk to you soon!

[autisticprentiss]

Sleepover

Emily Prentiss X reader, part 2/?

Reader cats are named after my rats lol

/ Thursday 8th, 11:45pm. Seattle / 

It strikes Emily as quietly domestic, sitting in bed next to each other, doing your own thing on your tablets in companionable silence. 

She checks her watch and discovers it's almost midnight again, and reaches down to pull her tablet on the charger. You see her starting to move out of the corner of your eye and follow suit, leaning over Emily to place your tablet next to hers on the nightstand. 

Emily basically manhandles you into the same spooning position you started in last night,smiling as she pulls and tugs at you until she's comfortable. You don't think you can get more comfortable than being in her arms, anyway she wants you. 

Emily breaks the silence, "You think it's bad that I like cuddling you more than Sergio?" 

You laugh and shake your head slightly, "Nope, unless I wake up with you headbutting me because you're hungry, I think I prefer you over my cat too." 

"You have a cat too?" She asks.

You nod, "I have two, they stay with my neighbours while we're away." 

"What are their names?" 

"The oldest is Janeway, she's almost 10." You pause at the look Emily's giving you, she stares at you, before laughing, "Janeway? You nerd."

"Hey!" You exclaim, "She's a very well respected captain. Asimov is 4, I call her 'Azi' mostly. They were both strays that claimed me as their human not long after I moved to D.C." 

"Janeway and Asimov." Emily shakes her head,  she's smiling, "Does Reid know he has nerd competition?" 

You roll your eyes, and turn yourself back onto your side, body tucked into Emily's. 

"Goodnight, Em."

Tonight you fall asleep first, Emily's fingers tracing a figure 8 on your arm lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

Only once she's very very sure you're asleep, does Emily change her pattern to hearts, a small, invisible, expression of her growing feelings for you, an attempt to acknowledge those feelings silently, but still outside the privacy of her mind. 

When she'd invited you to share her bed last night, it had been an impulse, no thought given to her crush on you but it was becoming undeniable, and Emily is sure when the team returns to Quantico Penelope will see right through her and double down her efforts to convince Emily to ask you out. 

Emily tries to push the thoughts from her mind, forces herself to breathe evenly and falls asleep. 

In her dream, Emily gently headbutts your shoulder a couple times until you stir, laughing at her and turning to face her. 

"I'm hungry." She whines with a smirk. 

"You're not actually a cat, you can get up and get your own food." You try to tuck yourself back into her body, but Emily pushes your shoulder down, until you're on your back and she's hovering above you, hands next to your head.

"Maybe what I want to eat is already in bed with me." 

/ 2:22am /

Suddenly you're awake, the bed shakes with the force of Emily sitting up.

"Bad dream?" You ask. 

She mumbles something and nods slightly, her eyes look heavy. You pull her back down under the blanket and into you, making her the little spoon and hoping it might help her feel safe enough to fall back asleep. 

You both fall back asleep quickly, Emily's 'bad dream' temporarily forgotten as she melts into you. 

/ 7:30am / 

Emily's been avoiding eye contact with you all morning, she turned the small TV on almost as soon as you both woke up, the news the only thing stopping the room from drowning in silence. 

You glance at her again, she's pulling her boots on and you figure you have to ask now before she leaves the room and you both get swept up in the case details again. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" 

Emily finally looks up at you, and for the first time in a while, you actually find eye contact comforting instead of stressful.

"Talk about what?"

"Your bad dream? It can help to talk it out," You've had plenty of bad dreams yourself, and while you've never talked about them you've always appreciated when someone offers to listen.

Emily shakes her head, her shoulders relaxing slightly from how she's had her whole body tensed, on edge and jumpy all morning. 

"It wasn't really a bad dream," She clocks your disbelief before you can school your face into a neutral expression, "More like a jumpscare really." 

You just nod, knowing she's not telling you the whole truth, and follow her out the door to the lobby for another day of crime fighting. 

/ 

[angelsworks]

Hi, thank you so much for your posts. Based on your previous post about yandere Mikaelsons I feel there is a high chance of them actually break their obsession. Then how will they react if they do? Reader is not just broken in a sense of being completely compliant, but they also lost interest and hope in life as well, and will not do anything unless they are given instructions to do so.

Lost Obsession

Yandere! Mikaelson Brothers x reader (separate)

Type: headcannon

Request: Yes

Summary: What it’s like for each of the Mikaelson brothers darlings if they break their obsession.

Warnings: death, yandere themes, dark themes, generally a bit sad, etc

This is kind of like a part two to this headcannon. This headcannon will reference points made then.

Here’s a link.

In the likely hood that they do break their obsession, it’s not going to be good.

If you thought being their darling was bad, being their ex-darling could be worse.

Each brother reacts differently.

Klaus Mikaelson

Maybe Klaus has found someone new. A new obsession.

It leads to him to moving you out and moving them in.

Depending on how good you’ve been will depend on how gradual the process is.

Or his current emotional state.

He might rip the band aid off and leave you alone with a new apartment.

But it’s not his nature to just leave things alone.

In some way he’ll still be connected to you.

Like how he is with Rebekah.

You can have your own life but he’ll come and go as he pleases. He doesn’t allow you to have any sort of romantic relationship. The thought of you being happy without him, even if you aren’t his darling, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

His treatment both during your relationship and after leads you to feeling completely isolated

You could live in the busiest town in the world. But you know that forming connections to anyone will leads to Klaus taking it away.

The only person you can talk to is once again him. It doesn’t matter whether you’re his darling or not.

You get to live; but it’s not much of a life.

Elijah Mikaelson

Elijah is always so kind to everyone. It’s no surprise someone new caught his eye. They take his attention away from you of course.

You don’t notice it until his behaviour starts to change.

Usually he does everything for you, his dominance being a key part of your relationship. Yet slowly that starts to change.

He asks you to cook your own meals, bathe yourself, feed yourself, dress yourself. Over the course of time you have to start to grow more independent.

Something which you thought would be a good thing.

Yet after being in Elijah’s hold for so long, it creates a sense of anxiety within you.

He’s made you so sure that you’re incompetent, doing anything yourself feels wrong.

Like Klaus, Elijah has the common decency to set you up with a house and all the necessities to live.

All he asks is that you don’t contact him again.

He completely severs ties, as to not affect his new obsession.

He’s gone from being your only source of comfort, to a complete stranger.

You survive of course. And after a long period of time you can final start to heal and become yourself.

Kol Mikaelson

Kol was a cruel yandere. Extremely sadistic and manipulative.

Yet he was impulsive.

He’s still a child at heart and doesn’t think things through.

So when he misjudged his strength one day, it doesn’t end well for you.

He’d grown bored anyway. You didn’t do much. You cried and begged and sometimes just sat and stared at walls.

He expects you to get up after a while.

But he realises you won’t be waking up, ever

At first he’s angry, angry at you for dying.

Then he’s angry at himself, for not feeding you his blood.

Then he’s sad. Then he’s angry. Then his feelings continue to fluctuate like an emotional yo-yo.

It takes him a while to get over you. A few murder sprees, some one night stands and lots of alcohol.

But he does, eventually.

Finn Mikaelson

Finn hates his vampire nature. He hates the fact that he’s stuck eternally as a murderous monster.

But you help him to break those thoughts.

When he lives with you, pretending he’s back in his time, back to a more primitive life, everything disappears.

As cruel as it sounds, it’s you who breaks his obsession. Your humanness reminds him of what he is.

It’s when he starts to see noticeable signs of ageing that he’s broken out of his false reality and realised of what he’s done.

Instead of facing it, he bolts.

He leaves you in the cave. Alone.

With no way to get down as a human, your death certificate has been signed.

He feels bad for his actions. For taking your life away from you.

He adds it to the ever growing pile of reasons he loathes himself.

A/N: I don’t know why the images are blocked. It won’t be an issue next time.

[sturniolotwist]

please, please, please

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: unexpected twist, cashier!matt, criminal!matt, sabrina carpenter cameo

---

Matt Sturniolo had been working as a cashier at the local supermarket for a few months, and while the job was routine, it had its moments of unexpected excitement. He enjoyed interacting with customers, and his friendly demeanor made him a favorite among regulars. One day, while scanning groceries, Matt noticed a girl he'd never seen before. She was stunning, with bright eyes and a warm smile that made his heart race.

As she approached the checkout, Matt tried to act natural. "Hi there, did you find everything you were looking for?" he asked, flashing his best smile.

She nodded, returning his smile. "Yes, thank you."

As he scanned her items, Matt racked his brain for a way to extend their interaction. When he reached for her credit card, an impulsive idea struck him. It was risky, but he couldn't let this opportunity slip away. He held onto her card a little longer than necessary.

"Um, can I get my card back?" she asked, her smile fading slightly.

"Sure, but only if you give me your number," Matt said, trying to sound playful but feeling nervous.

Her expression turned serious. "Excuse me? Are you serious?"

Matt's heart sank, realizing he'd made a mistake. "I... I just thought you were really nice and—"

But before he could finish, she called out, "Security!"

Moments later, two security guards appeared. "What's going on here?" one of them asked.

"This guy won't give me my credit card back unless I give him my number," she explained, her voice shaking with frustration.

The guards took Matt aside, and it wasn't long before the police arrived. Matt found himself being led out of the supermarket in handcuffs, the girl’s disbelieving eyes watching him the whole time.

The next thing Matt knew, he was in a holding cell at the local police station. He couldn't believe how badly things had gone. As he sat on the hard bench, he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see none other than Sabrina Carpenter standing outside his cell.

"Sabrina? What are you doing here?" he asked, astonished.

She smiled sympathetically. "I heard about what happened. It sounds like you were just trying to be brave, but it backfired."

Matt sighed. "Yeah, that's an understatement."

"Well, I have an idea that might make things a little better," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Before he knew it, Matt found himself in the middle of a whirlwind as Sabrina and her team transformed the holding cell into a makeshift music video set. Sabrina was filming her new music video for "Please Please Please," and she wanted Matt to be part of it.

"Are you serious?" Matt asked, still in disbelief as he stood beside her in the cell.

"Absolutely," Sabrina said with a grin. "Let's turn this mess into something memorable."

As the cameras rolled, Matt found himself caught up in the energy and excitement of the shoot. Sabrina's voice filled the small space, her passion and talent evident in every note. Matt played the role of the hapless cashier, his real-life predicament adding a unique authenticity to the video.

When the filming wrapped up, Matt couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. What had started as a disastrous attempt to ask a girl out had turned into an incredible, unforgettable experience.

"Thanks, Sabrina," he said as they finished the final shot. "I never thought I'd end up in a music video, especially not like this."

She smiled warmly. "Sometimes the best stories come from the most unexpected places. And hey, maybe next time, just ask for her number without any tricks."

Matt chuckled. "Lesson learned."

As Sabrina and her team packed up, Matt was released from the cell, the charges against him dropped. He walked out of the police station, a free man, with an incredible story to tell.

And as he headed home, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, things had turned out exactly as they were meant to.

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Day 9: Collaring

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Pairing: Boyd x Raylan x Tim

Boyd and Raylan give him the collar together.

It’s the first. Tim's never been a proper submissive, not for as long as he's known he was a submissive – he's too headstrong, too independent. People tend to peg him wrong, when they first meet him, and as it turns out, most doms aren't interested in a sub who can put a bullet through their eye at 1000 yards.

Boyd and Raylan aren't most doms, though. Tim knows that from the beginning, from when Raylan doesn't bat an eyelash at working next to a submissive – from when he realizes the two of them are together, despite the fact that they both have clear, bold D's on their driver's licenses.

And, really, it shouldn't be surprising that the three of them fit. Tim's about as nontraditional as they come, and Boyd and Raylan are just a half-step behind him. They don't expect Tim to kneel or defer in public – and they don't expect it from him in private, either, not unless they're putting him under.

So the collar is a surprise.

A collared sub is a claimed one. A wanted one. And if Tim’s ever been wanted in his life, it was despite the fact that he was a sub, not because of it. 

Tim stares down at the box in Boyd’s hands – at the strip of leather laying inside it. It’s innocuous enough, and Tim might even be able to brush it off if it was just Raylan in front of him. Impulsively buying a collar is something that’s right up Raylan’s alley, and they both know it – but it’s Boyd, too. And Boyd might be his own brand of impulsive, but not about things like this.

"You don't have to wear it," Raylan says, when all Tim does is swallow and stare. "Not if you don't want to. Not never, if it's not your thing. We just…" He ducks his head in an uncharacteristic show of shyness, and that more than anything convinces Tim that this is real, that the two of them aren't making a pointed comment about how he doesn't measure up. “You’re ours, Tim,” Raylan finishes after a moment. “We thought that you could use the reminder, sometimes.”

A year ago, Tim might have bristled at those words, taken them the wrong way and made Raylan bleed for them, but now… now he knows what Raylan means. That he’s not putting Tim in his place, but assuring him of it, reminding him less that he’s claimed and more that he’s wanted. 

The distinctions are important. So is the fact that Boyd and Raylan know him well enough to make them.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is even rougher than it normally is. “Yeah, okay.”

He imagines it’s not the enthusiasm Boyd and Raylan were hoping for, but the both of them just relax, losing tension Tim didn’t even realize they were carrying. And it occurs to him that, for all this is monumental for him, it might not exactly be commonplace for them, either. 

"Would you allow us to put it on you?" Boyd asks, and Tim nods tightly, not trusting his voice. In response, he just gets two of the softest smiles he's ever seen. Boyd takes the collar out of the box, and Raylan reaches out, gently tipping Tim’s head back with a thumb on his jaw. It’s a vulnerable position, one that makes Tim’s teeth itch on the wrong kind of day, but today it just feels… steadying.

“Good boy,” Boyd says, and Tim huffs. 

He can’t glare the way he wants to, not with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, so he settles for muttering, “That’s not playing fair,” while Boyd sets the collar against his neck, carefully buckling the strap.

“I have been accused of being many things,” Boyd says, and Tim can hear the smile in his voice. “But I don’t believe anyone’s ever felt the need to label me as fair.”

He cinches the collar, not so tight that Tim can’t breathe, but just tight enough that he can feel it, the reassuring pressure like a hand on his throat. Tim shudders at the thought, feels need start to pull at the corners of his mind even as he reaches up, brushing his fingers over the leather covering his throat. It's a new feeling, but it's… not a bad one. He doesn't hate it. And when he allows himself, briefly, to think about wearing it again, maybe while kneeling at Boyd’s feet or letting Raylan pin him to the bed, well – he doesn’t hate that, either. 

No, he doesn’t hate it at all.

find this fic on AO3 here:

[fountainpenguin]

"It's like a dagger hanging over my head... Every day is just the same; I always have to hang my head in shame..." (x)

---

New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 4 - “Marked”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

---

Impulse is in a fight. Mumbo didn't get to watch. After all, Skizz teleported him out of there before long. But while hiding in Skizz's spawn room, Mumbo realizes that a few very important "somethings" got left behind.

Skizz, however, seems oddly reluctant to poof back to look for them. Between that and the whole "Skizz is a wanted man" thing, it would seem these two have a lot to talk about…

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Marked

Three seconds later…

---

Is this what it feels like to be… carried? To be held not like a package, but like a precious thing? Mumbo curls in on himself, shivering, and reaches for the sleeves of his robes. They aren't there. And his fingers aren't there because they don't exist. Or they do… but not in solid form. It's the idea of fingers, and the idea of Mumbo, and he's hurtling through a river like an arrow shot through stars. He has nothing to hold, and nothing to hold with… so he wraps himself around Skizzleman in his nonexistent way, and Skizz - who doesn't exist - pulls him closer with one arm.

They explode like bursting TNT. Blots of shadow and bright purple sparkles rain around them. Mumbo flops on a bed with a grunt. Is it a bed? He touches it, dragging his fingertips across the quilt. When he blinks, pink lanterns glow back at him. He's huddled in his own robes and silky black bedsheets. One arm clenches his stomach. His fingers curl through it, pinching skin.

Where am I?

It's… familiar, in a way he can't describe. There is something very comfortable about the walls pressing in all around. This room feels like a perfect cube. Is it perfect? Mumbo sits up, nice and slow, bracing himself with his palms. He breathes… He breathes through the pounding in his head.

"It's my spawn room," Skizz says behind him. Mumbo turns his head. Skizz stands in the far corner of the room, fingering the collar of his blue jumper. Mumbo almost makes eye contact, then remembers to drop his gaze. Skizz grimaces in reply. Long fingers pinch the hem of that sleeve. Mumbo watches that instead, just because he doesn't know what else to do with his eyes.

"We're… in the ender-spawn temple?"

"Yeah. You'll be safe here, buddy… No one can get in unless I bring them. Although I wouldn't recommend stepping through the door. I'm, uh… pretty sure that got griefed."

Mumbo's fingers curl tighter in the sheets. Skizz is staring at him with those big ol' eyes. He can feel them tracing up his back, but he can't just look… Or he shouldn't look, anyway. He cringes inward, breathing hard.

Deep breathes. Really, really deep breaths.

"This… this is your room? Isn't that, uhh… kinda…?"

Skizz's fingers fidget in the corner of Mumbo's eye. He takes a breath of his own. "Don't be like that…"

"Right. Yes. Just… a thing. That regular… buddies… do. Yeah. This is, um…." Oh dear…

He breathes again and takes a more careful look around. The room is lit by a single lantern of purple endflame. It's pretty… Much more contained in its little frosted glass than the bare soul sconces back in Little Sun. The glow is so low, Mumbo stares directly at it for several seconds before tearing his eyes away. He doesn't even need to blink to clear any spots from his vision.

This room is 5 blocks across and 5 blocks wide, just like his own spawn room back home. Taller, though, with a higher ceiling. That's only to be expected (body stereotypes and all). It's been cleared out of everything. Bare shelves. Empty trash bin. No clutter on the side table. Double-U stands in the corner, neck bent. Buzz nuzzles against her face with her soft little head.

"… It's quite nice in here, actually. What a lovely little place."

He's not been living here… He's making appearances. Where's all his supplies?

Skizz says nothing. Mumbo looks down at the bed he's kneeling on. The covers are mostly on the floor, like someone kicked them off in a hurry. He slides off the bed, right beside a pair of slipper. This is familiar. It's familiar in a way his beating hearts can stand, straining at his insides they may be.

Oh my goodness, I'm in another man's spawn room. Mumbo's eyelids twitch up. He leans forward, grabbing his hood, and drags it down over his face.

"Mumbles?" Quick little footsteps cross the room. Skizz's arms must be folded, because Mumbo can hear the lurching way he moves- the way his arms aren't swinging, jumper pressed tight like he's holding back a wound. "Talk to me, buddy. Are you hurt? If anybody hurt you, Impulse and I can mess 'em up."

"… N-not that this isn't charming, but can we go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?"

Mumbo closes his eyes. He listens to noises outside the spawn room. It sounds like people are moving through the hall, mostly zinging back and forth as they poof away. No one's yelling, though. The glow of the default lights will indicate the room is occupied, but there's nothing to be done about that.

"… Um. Well, this is awkward. Did you not see my wanted poster? I'm a marked man, dude."

"Yes, but… Skizz, this is really very…"

"Hey." Skizz lowers himself, reaching for Mumbo's face. Mumbo flinches back, knuckles tight around his hood. He keeps his face away, keeps his eyes down, and tries not to look at him. Even when his eyes are glowing and it's very, very tempting to look at him right now. "Look, it's… I know it's not super-duper-pooper-scooper, but I'm still your bodyguard. I'm not- I'm not gonna, like, disintegrate you."

"Skizz, that's not- That's not the part that worries me, dude…"

Skizz pauses, breathing against Mumbo's hair. "That doesn't worry you?"

"I mean, yeah! I mean, I'm glad you led with that, but…" I wasn't afraid you'd rip me apart to bulk up your form. You didn't give me that impression. Mumbo's fingers tremble anyway. He removes his satchel. This moves his elbows, forcing Skizz to back off just a hair without being real offensive. "Dude, this is your spawn room. You… You have full control of every pixel in here. I don't think it's a good idea…"

Skizz does not touch him. His hands float in empty space and Mumbo can pick up on the hot glow of his eyes even through his crunched-up eyelids. "I'm sorry… But it's the only place we can be safe. I know it's… Like, yeah, there's some really messed up stuff that could happen in here… but I'm not gonna dooo that. You're safe with me, Mumbo. I promise."

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[the-starry-seas]

I wanna know more about your chaotic neutral human?!

Oh man where do I begin 😂

I started writing him in 2015, and that kinda blows my mind when I think about it. I've played him as a faerie prince, Utahraptor shifter, dragon shifter, werewolf, alien, Titan pilot, X-Men style mutant, and normal human. Well, as normal as he can get.

His name is Rowan Castañeda. He's Catalan (when he's from Earth, anyway). The 'default' version of him is the one where he's a raptor shifter, because that's where it started all those years ago. That version also goes by the name Red, because his dinosaur form has red feathers and reptilian eyes. His human form has red eyes and sharp canines, which are hidden by a magical charm that gives him brown eyes and normal teeth.

The best way to sum up Rowan is by saying he's a little crazy and a lot of fun. Very loud and outgoing, loves people. Has more than enough intellect and common sense to clearly and easily grasp something is a Bad Idea, and enough chaotic dumbass energy to decide he's gotta just go ahead with it anyway. Way too fond of bad puns, incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he can comment on something he shouldn't. Loyal to the death, curious about everything, isn't sure how he hasn't been poisoned by food from sketchy street vendors, and interrupts conversations to point out cats. His main interests include dinosaurs, space, Star Trek, historical novels, and monster movies (the cheesier the better). Don't touch his hat or invade his personal space unless you're looking to get your ass kicked, which will almost certainly involve biting. Fluent in Latin and will bitch people out in it (or will ramble about how unbelievably smoking his wife is, Gomez Addams style).

His playby is Óscar Jaenada, originally from The Losers. This BTS gif from (it was an interview I think?) immediately cemented the idea of a playby for him bc it was so exactly what I had in mind. Cocky little fucker who would suckerpunch God to protect his family, or even if it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

He's bisexual and nonbinary, and grew up in Ripley, California with an older sister (Laura) and twin brother (Raul). His brother disappeared when they were sixteen, and a year later, Rowan was kicked out by his parents for being queer. He moved to Los Angeles to live with his uncle, a Marine Corps veteran, and Rowan followed in his footsteps by enlisting at eighteen. He became a highly skilled sniper but turned down promotions because he liked the job he had.

At twenty-one he impulsively married a girl named Amber, who he'd known for three hours. The next year, they had a daughter named Elena. She was born partially deaf and Rowan became fluent in ASL to communicate with her.

At twenty-nine, he was injured in the line of duty and got a medical discharge. His sister divorced a few months ago, and she and her daughter Alejandra moved to a new house with Rowan's family, since her ex was being a dipshit and Rowan wanted her to be protected.

He started college courses to become a paleontologist. (Yes, the dinosaur shifter has a dinosaur-related job. I think I'm funny.) He was active in fieldwork for another 5-10 years, depending on the timeline, before taking a job as a curator at a dinosaur museum so he could be home more and have more regular hours.

In my favourite version of his character, his new curator job was at a museum in Gotham, cause that town is clearly the first choice of any normal and well-adjusted individual. He was also an active vigilante, bc nobody believed the criminals saying a dinosaur attacked them, and he had zero concern of being connected to his illegal activities.

Bonus Rowan art from when he's older in his forties: