#until then please enjoy this... whatever it is

[camerahaterlittle]

We're from the same pack but from rivaling herds | Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia has never been a good mother to you and finally you snap and she finally realizes her mistake as a mother

Warnings: Bad writing grammer and mentions of purposeful self harm Alexia's a bad guy here yall if this seems like something that you wouldn't enjoy please don't read

Ever since Alexia was pregnant with you, she never really thought about the future and whether you'd take on her legacy and continue to play football with your name of the back of the jersey even when you were born she never felt that connection that her mother told her she would feel with you she was just numb she didn't necessarily like you but she loved you.

Whether that was because she felt like she had to or because she actually did was always unclear to her and only her because she never told anyone how she actually felt about having you but deep down she knew that she didn't want you by any means in her kind she was young in love and free.

You always thought that's why you always sat alone at the dinner table eating dinner with one of Alexia's old jerseys on one of the chairs stretched out so it'd fit there pretending it was her when you were only 5 years old with whatever interview you could find of her playing in the background while Alba slept on the couch.

Ever since those days you swore, you wouldn't let your mother hurt you any longer, yet it didn't work all that well since you always bit back your words every time you were talking to her (it was really arguments) and those talks always left you in tears at a random gym taking your pain out on a punching back was your form correct no not at all your fists always hurt in the first ten minutes because you didn't wrap your hands right but in some way you enjoyed the pain since it took your mind off everything else.

Boxing was your thing it let you relieve whatever emotions you were feeling without any form of consequence if you didn't count the fact your knuckles would be killing you after the session with barely any breaks boxing was more of your thing than football ever was and maybe that's why you and your mother got pushed further away there wasn't anything you could bond over since your hate for football from when you were 5 stayed all the way until now.

And that was why to your self adopted coach, said you were the best fighter in Spain, at least that's what he told you that you could be if you let him help you and get you to that point you only nodded barely listening to the guy only 'agreeing' because you wanted to get back to hitting the bag like it offended you in some way.

Did Alexia know about your fighting? No, she didn't. No one really knew if you didn't count Ingrid and Mapi in that statement because they knew everything, yet you made them promise not to say anything or do anything when you broke down in front of them spilling everything that's been happening.

The couple had become your anchor through everything they were the only thing holding you above the crashing water, keeping you a float helping you swim through everything you knew you could always count on them no matter the situation they were always there and that was something you'd never take for granted since you never got that much growing up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked around, trying to spot Mapi and Ingrid in the small crowd of people. After your fight, you ended up winning, which wasn't a surprise to your coach or any of the small number of fans you had since you normally won every fight of yours with barely any struggle.

But to your surprise, when you finally found the couple, you saw Alexia standing right next to them, a small frown on her face with her arms crossed against her chest. Your expression hardened immediately. Your jaw clenched as you took off your gloves so you could finally wipe the sweat and blood off your face.

You were zoned out the entire conversation with your coach, only humming or mumbling a small okay in response to whatever he was saying the moment he was finished talking to you, you were out of the ring walking over to Mapi, Ingrid, and Alexia the couple pulling you into their arms like they were trying to shield you away from Alexia's gaze.

"You did amazing out there cariño best fight I ever saw." Mapi murmured in your ear as she held you closer to her as Ingrid started a somewhat friendly conversation with Alexia, trying to get her attention off of you and Mapi.

You had the smallest smile on your face from her praise as your arms slightly tightened around her, enjoying the warmth and love you got from the fellow Spaniard. "Thank you, Maps," you said quietly, a small shiver going down your spine when her hand started to scratch at your scalp, ignoring the way the slightly wet strands felt against her fingertips.

Mapi looked up and away from you when Alexia cleared her throat, rolling her eyes at the sight of you and her best friend together. Mapi slowly pulled you out of her arms so you could actually see your mother, yet you stayed close to one of your favorite people, not like the arm Mapi still had around you was gonna let you go anywhere at all.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were boxing now, huh?" Alexia spoke her tone sharp and calculated just like it always was when she spoke to you. Mapi, in response to Alexia's words, pulled you a bit closer to you, offering you a silent comfort from Alexia's coldness.

"I didn't think it was such a big deal it's just a hobby." Your words came out quiet less harsh than Alexia's the somewhat happiness you felt from before vanishing as she continued. You knew she wouldn't drop this topic even if you just wished she would.

"Just a hobby, then explain why you've been doing this for the past year. If it's just a hobby, why are you continuing this Y/n." Alexia stepped closer to you, her frame towering over yours the moment the Norwegian who was standing on the side saw this she came between the two of you immediately something that surprised Alexia since Ingrid wasn't one for getting in between things often.

"Why don't you leave Alexia she will be home later on in the night. I think you need to cool down some, and then you guys can talk." Ingrid's words were sharp and calculated as she chose her words wisely, stopping whatever possible fight that could've been caused because of this.

You let out a sigh of relief Ingrid's words acting as a life jacket in the horrible waves of the sea keeping you above the water. Mapi pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as she walked away with you, leaving the Norwegian to deal with whatever Alexia could possibly say in response to things.

"She needs to come home now. Engen, there's conversations that we have to have." Alexia's expression hardened as she stared at her teammate, wondering why she was stopping her from getting her child and bringing her home to have a conversation.

"And that's not happening, not right now, Alexia she's not coming home until she's ready to talk to you, and until then, she will be staying with me and Mapi she is safe with us for the time being" Ingrid responded her own expression hardening the longer she stayed with Alexia she knew no conversation would be had it would be one sided the Spaniard in front of her being the only one who spoke while you sat in silence.

Alexia scoffed, shaking her head she had a feeling no matter what she said. Ingrid wouldn't let her take you home, so she left it at that, muttering something in Spainsh that the Norwegian couldn't quite catch in the moment.

Ingrid watched Alexia walk away, making sure she actually left before going to find you and Mapi finding the two of you in the back room of this gym you ended up fighting in a soft smile appearing on hee face as she saw you and Mapi messing around while talking she partly knew that her girlfriend was only doing this to distract you from what had just happened and it was clearly working.

The midfielder eventually walked over to the two of you, interrupting the mini fight/conversation you two were having "Alright you two, we've got to go home and get some food in our stomachs." Both you and Mapi turned, hearing the Ingrid's words pouting a bit since what you two were planning was interrupted but compiled anyways."Yes, mom." "Aye Aye, captain." Came from the both of you, Ingrid chuckling in response as the three of you left ready to get home.

All three of you hopped into the car, buckling yourselves in the car windows immediately being put down some the drive to your favorite restaurant being made while you got the aux cord and you took full control over that playing every Frozen song since in your words "It's not my fault it has one of the best soundtracks" which only resulted in groans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time you walked into the house, you saw Alexia on the couch it had only been a couple hours since you last saw her, and you felt your heart clench at the sight of her sitting there zoned out to the point she didn't even notice walking inside the house.

You sighed, walking into the kitchen, grabbing an energy drink, cracking it open, taking a long sip from it. You heard Alexia getting up, making out the sounds of her clothes russling as she made her way into the kitchen after her gaze felt weird like she was staring straight through you or something and you most definitely didn't like that at all.

"Y/n, we need to talk about things." Alexia's tone was for once surprisingly softer than it normally was when she was talking to you, and that threw you off guard.

"You mean you're gonna talk, and I have to listen." Your tone was sharp just like hers was earlier at your fight, and yet instead of you being caught off guard, it was Alexia she never heard you take that tone with her once in her life.

"And quite frankly, I'm tired of listening to you talk and you expecting me to just take it and listen." You continued not giving her a chance to speak you were tired of listening and that was clear.

You took another swig from your drink, not daring to face her because you knew if you did, you'd crumble and wouldn't get everything you felt off of your chest nothing you were thinking in this moment was making sense and that meant everything came out oddly not making much sense but you knew Alexia was smart enough to get the point.

"I know i wasn't ever your baby and that I was only a maybe to you, and it took me forever to accept that hell I don't think I've even accepted it now I think I'm just okay with it now even if it hurts because my own mother doesn't care unless it affects her and even then you couldn't care less." You wiped the tears that were already falling. You expected that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself together during this. What made you say all of this to her was unknown. Maybe it was the softness in her tone, or maybe you were done with everything.

"I only wanted to feel loved by you, but you didn't even give me that all I got was you talking and ignoring what I had to say I got your jerseys on chairs in the kitchen because you were too busy to come home I sat alone pretending you were there with an interview of you playing wishing you'd care or love me just as much as you love football no five year old should have to do that." You could hear your words coming out shaky as you spoke, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You glanced at Alexia seeing her standing there tears in her eyes but you didn't care not when she was your first heartbreak.

"I just want you to love me as much as you love Pina or Vicky. I'm your actual daughter, and yet they somehow get more love and attention from you. I tried everything to get your attention, and yet I still couldn't get it. I wanted your attention good or bad." You took a shaky deep breath, putting your drink down on the counter rubbing your face, trying to get rid of the tears that were freely falling.

"But I didn't ever get that from you. I got it from Mapi and Ingrid. I got it from Alba and Jenni, but never you, the one person's love and attention i wanted i didn't get ever and I don't think you know how much that shaped me as a person." You turned around facing her. You could see she was going through every emotion possible as you continued.

"I don't need it now anymore, but she needed it she needed it more than me. I've grown to accept what you've done, but she hasn't she's still wondering what made you not love her as much as you loved everyone else." Alexia felt her heart break at your words she knew exactly what you meant by she without you even saying it, and it hurt her more than she ever thought.

You picked up your can once again, downing the rest of it before setting it back on the counter just staring into her eyes. Both of your eyes were red, tears staining your cheeks, and in that moment, it really felt like you were looking into a mirror staring back at yourself when, in all reality, it was just two hurt people one hurting more than the other.

You stood there like there for a few more moments, looking away from her as your lip trembled a bit. You just wanted Alexia to answer one question, and one only but you knew the answer would probably break you even more. "Did you ever actually love me? Did you ever even want me?".

You waited for her to respond, and it took her minutes to respond, but when she finally did, your heart broke even more just like you expected. "I don't know. I wish I had a better answer." Alexia was ashamed of herself for the way everything turned out for the way she treated her own daughter.

You nodded, walking over to the door and leaving the house without another word for once it was pouring outside. You wanted to turn around and go back inside the house, but you didn't. You kept walking without a set place in your mind on where to go.

Alexia watched you leave her heartbreaking even more. If that was even possible, she walked over to the couch sitting down head in her hands as she cried, wondering what had happened to make this turn out this way even if she knew the answer deep down.

It had been more than an hour since you left, and Alexia was still crying over everything, her heart aching in a way she didn't know was possible she picked up her phone when it started to ring answering it waiting to see who it was.

"Hello, is this Alexia Putellas" A man's voice spoke his voice ringing through Alexia's ears.

"Yes, this is her. What's this call for." Alexia thought this was just another photoshot guy or anything of that sort but she couldn't have been anymore wrong.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your daughter Y/n is currently in the hospital in critical condition." The man responded, but he didn't get a response. The call ended immediately as Alexia jumped up, grabbing her keys and leaving her phone behind as she ran out the door, getting in her car driving to the nearest hospital breaking all kinds of laws just to get there.

Okay, I feel like this is incredibly short, but enjoy this while I work on other requests

[vivlily]

can you please explain who these horses are????

You made a mistake in asking me, but I will try anyway. This will go over some general things and mainly focus on white and cyan, not so much the other horses.

They are characters from a Twitter webseries/game(?) hosted by @/snakesandrews. Where viewers essentially vote on whatever horse they think might win. These horses bounce around randomly off of objects like a screensaver of sorts, and a horse wins once it touches a png of a carrot.

These horses are typically referred to by their color until they win and are thus given a name, for instance, orange, eventually becoming jovial merryment.

How much or how little these horses win as well as what goes on during a race end up leading to a lot of fan made content. And for the most part, any characterization of these horses is largely up to fan interpretation.

For these two horses, white and cyan specifically? White and cyan and brown would go on to not win one match for quite some time, leading to them being put into a race all on their own. Which brown would eventually go on to win and attain the name Door Knob. Leaving white and cyan in their own little race. With a special little map, file this special little map for later.

It is important to note that these races do not usually last much longer than around 2 or 2 and a half minutes. Cyan and White would go on to race for a whole 7 minutes and 9 seconds. This led to a lot of fans depicting them as sort've not wanting to win, usually because of enjoying one another's company or something similar. I'm a yuri minded individual, so you can probably guess how I decided to interpret it.

As you probably realized, since they had a defined time for the race, a winner also exists. This is where White had won, earning the name Superstitional Realism. This led to a lot of fans depicting Cyan as either feeling betrayed or upset by white winning. Some also show Cyan being happy for white.

It here that white, now superstitional realism(I will refer to her as Sup from now on), would join the next days' race and proceed to not win. And in the next day's race, white would be mysteriously missing. It is in this race that Sup is missing that something unusual happens once the race is over.

Cyan has lost every single race, every single one. This race where Sup is missing is followed by a video in which Cyan was racing all alone in an empy room with only herself, eventually obtaining her first win. But did such a win even count? There was no one for Cyan to even race against after all. It was assumed Cyan would get a name for her victory, but the fanfare screen would simply continue listing her name as Cyan.

People expected that Cyan would finally join the next race proper, only for the next race to be a race between what looked to be 7 distorted horses (6 a form of cyan, and 1 white). Despite there being 6 cyans, they still lost to the distorted white horse, whose fanfare screen read "a Mysterious figure." Leading many to think this might be cyan reliving her worst moments, and more specifically, the moment where she get left behind by white.

The latest race as of this post was with the regular set of horses interspliced with the 6 distorted cyans having a race of their own. It's unknown if this "nightmare" world is real or in cyans head. But one of the 6 distorted cyans does win and is rewarded with the name of Garbage Bin. We then cut back to the "normal" world where Sup remains missing and jovial merryment wins the race(go figure).

Now, do you remember that special little map where cyan and white initially raced in? The "normal" world race was taking place on the very same map, just with more color and rounder edges. This leads to me and probably a few others believing that that last race was the other horses looking for cyan.

My assumption for why Sup has been missing for the last few races is because white had already gone back to look for cyan ahead of everyone else.

As for how the story might end? Well, you can find out both today and Friday as the series seems to be having it's last to races.

Will jovial win once more? It's possible. It's annoyingly possible. And will cyan and sup have a happy ending? I SURE HOPE SO. SAVE YOUR GIRL.

Whadya mean I'm getting emotional over screensaver pngs?!?

Apologies if this was long winded, I'm not used to typing this much and suck at using words. BUT you made the mistake of asking me, dear Anon. Always remember there is always yuri for those with eyes to see. Now go consume some fan content, there's a lot of really good writers and artists out there, show them some love.

[artficlly]

Hello lovely! I heard you were taking requests, so maybe bucky barnes x depressed reader hurt comfort. with requests “Let me see. Please, just let me help.” and “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” maybe just comforting reader or even reader SH (ONLY IF YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE!! )

Have a great day! ☕️🍪

burnout [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader when a mission goes wrong, you revert to bad habits, much to bucky’s dismay

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, !SELF HARM!, please do not read if sh triggers you!, angst, death, blood, wound descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, protective bucky, established relationship, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: hi lovely, i hope this is okay and that you enjoy. ngl i totally forgot about the depressed!reader part until i had written this and reread your request soooo oops sorry this is a lot more SH heavy than i thought it would be. been in a weird mood recently so maybe that contributed, lol? planning to write a very cute and fluffy request after this one. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

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You and Bucky had never said the ‘L’ word.

Love.

I love you.

Your relationship had always been strong, a quiet constant in your life. It had started slowly, lingering glances, late-night walks back from missions, casual coffee runs to the place Bucky swore had the best muffins in the city. ‘friend dates’, he’d call them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things shifted. Maybe it was the night the two of you stayed up watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reruns until dawn, only to wake up tangled together on the couch, too comfortable to move. Or maybe it started when you found yourself spending more nights at Bucky’s place than your own, helping him fumble through whatever mysterious recipe he’d picked from the new cookbook you gave him, only to end up dusted in flour, his handprints stamped like soft proof on your hips and waist. Or perhaps it was the moment he went dark on a mission, no comms, no updates, just a sinking feeling in your gut, and when he finally returned, stepping off a bullet-riddled quinjet, you kissed him in front of everyone. You didn’t care about the smug looks from the others. You were just relieved he was alive.

And now, sitting on the floor of your bathroom, knees hugged to your chest, contemplating the mess you’d made of yourself, of your career, of everything in the past twenty-four hours, you wondered if he ever could truly love you. 

You didn’t feel lovable. You felt like a failure, well and truly a fuck up of a human being. 

You knew Tony hadn’t meant the things he’d shouted at you during the debrief, not really, but that didn’t dull the sting. It didn’t quiet the echo of his words still reverberating through your bones. You knew the team was exhausted. Defeated. Grieving in the wake of a catastrophic mission. In your few short years as an Avenger, you’d already learned that for every victory, there were just as many failures, some more devastating than others. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d all been doomed from the start, ambushed, outnumbered, overwhelmed. It was a miracle any of you made it out alive.

Still, twelve didn’t.

Twelve agents, gone forever.

Twelve sets of eyes you had slowly watched fade, twelve bodies you watched grow blue and cold, twelve families who would never see their loved ones, twelve families who were likely receiving the news now. It hadn’t been enough.

You hadn’t been enough. 

You ran through it in your head endless times on the Quinjet back. You’d done everything you could. Pushed yourself to the brink until your magic sputtered and died, until your limbs trembled and your vision turned to stars. Until all you could do was fall to your knees and watch it happen. Watch them go.

You had tried desperately to explain in the debrief, practically pleading with Tony as the room turned into a warzone of insults and frustration. 

‘I can only be in so many places at once! There were too many. I did what I could, I tried, but my magic has limits. I have limits!’

Tony had stared you down with a look of disgust. He was still in his suit, dirt and blood smeared on his face, dust and grit gathered in his brows and beard. 

‘Yeah, well, if you can’t handle it, if you can’t keep up, maybe you shouldn’t be an Avenger at all.’ 

The air had vanished from the room in an instant. And in that silence, a part of you decided they all agreed with him, that they all hated you. The eight surviving agents sat motionless, watching the argument unfold with haunted thousand-yard stares. Even Natasha and Sam couldn’t quite meet your eye. 

‘Maybe we need another healer.’ Tony had spat, and your face had crumpled. ‘One who can handle what we’re asking of them.’

You barely registered Natasha’s voice, ‘You’re being too harsh, Tony’, as you fled the room, shame burning hotter than the tears you refused to let fall.

Now here you were, still stained with blood and filth, unable to breathe under the weight of it all.

You stared at the bathroom tiles, blinking through tears, chest aching like something was caving in from the inside. Every breath felt like a struggle, like your body didn’t want to keep going if your mind wouldn’t fight for it. You weren’t even sure when the small paring knife from the kitchen ended up in your hand. You’d taken it with you without thinking, without planning, like your body was moving on some quiet, desperate instinct.

You turned it over in your palm, watching how the metal caught the light.

It was a bad habit, you knew that. One you thought you’d buried years ago.

One of the first times you and Bucky had been intimate, he’d noticed the faint scars that lined your thighs and hips. The marks were in places no one was meant to see. You hadn’t expected to be seen. He had asked about them only once. 

‘What are these?’

You had answered honestly. ‘I was in pain. And I didn’t know how else to make it stop. Hurting myself was the only thing that made sense.’

He hadn’t judged you, hadn’t pulled away. His brow had furrowed, and in all his frustrating kindness and understanding, he had simply kissed them.

You wondered where Bucky was now. He hadn’t been on the mission, he was off helping Steve train the agents. You wondered how he’d react when he heard the news. When he learned that so many of the agents he’d personally trained were gone because you hadn’t been enough. Would he hate you for it? Pity you? Look at you with that same flicker of disgust Tony hadn’t bothered to hide?

Your hand shook as you raised the knife, but there was no hesitation. You pressed the blade to your wrist. A sob slipped out, trembling and thin, as the edge bit deeper, pain flared through your nerves, burning like fire. You squeezed your fingers into a fist, muscles twitching beneath the metal as if it were trying to shy away. You dragged the blade up your forearm vertically, watching how the blood welled up and spilt across your skin in a crimson rush.

You stopped only when you reached the crook of your elbow, breath hitching as you watched the blood drip onto the cold white tiles, pooling in the grout like spilt wine. The pain in your chest hadn’t lessened. If anything, it throbbed harder, your breathing ragged and shallow.

Your magic spluttered to life, hesitant and fragile after hours of overuse. You felt it in the searing coil deep in your gut, in the ache threading through your shoulders. You were moments away from collapse. A thin sweat clung to your brow, the salty sting mixing with tears as you pressed your thumb into the fresh wound you’d carved.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the flesh began to knit under your touch. Healing had never been painless. The manipulation of blood and bone was something unnatural, meant to be a weapon just as much as it was a remedy. Muscle pulled tight beneath your skin, twitching and resisting, as your magic forced the edges closed. By the time you reached the tender crook of your elbow, you were sobbing again, jaw clenched hard against the searing pain. But after one final pass, it was done. All that remained was a thin, raised scar tracing your forearm and the evidence of your lapse in the form of blood smeared across the tiles.

Your brow furrowed, and you struck again. You needed to feel it. You needed to understand. What was the point of surviving if you couldn’t prove your worth? If you couldn’t push past fear and failure? If you couldn’t protect the people who counted on you?

Your teeth ached from the pressure of your clenching jaw. Your head pounded, vision blurring at the edges. Still, you raised the knife again. Your skin was a patchwork now—angry, raw, blistered red with that fresh, pink scar where your magic had forced healing. You wanted to open it again. Just to feel. Just to remind yourself.

Your hands trembled. Your magic flickered weakly at your fingertips, barely more than a dying spark. Your body screamed for you to stop, muscles sluggish and mind thick with exhaustion, but you couldn’t hear it through the noise in your head.

You pressed the blade’s tip to your wrist.

And that’s when the apartment door slammed open.

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice called out, panicked. “Are you okay? I heard what happened—”

You froze.

Blood still warm, still trailing from your fingertips. The bathroom reeked of iron. You were crouched on the tiles, surrounded by red.

“Where are you?” he called again. “I know you’re home, your shoes are here—”

You scrambled to your feet, reaching blindly for a towel, anything to hide the mess. The knife clattered to the floor, the sound ringing like a gunshot in the stillness.

“Fuck—” you whispered.

Panic flared. Without thinking, you stumbled over your own feet, crashing to your knees as you tried to swing the bathroom door shut and lock it. But you were too late.

Bucky caught the door with ease, too fast for you to react. His eyes found you instantly, pale, shivering, feverish, crouched in a pool of blood. His expression shattered into alarm.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, breath catching in his throat.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice cracking. “Sweetheart.”

You let out a sob and folded forward, clinging to him like he was the last safe thing left in the world. His arms came around you without hesitation, cradling you against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—��� you gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do—I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh. I know,” he whispered, fingers threading into your hair, anchoring you. “I’ve got you. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

Your face buried into his shirt, the warmth of his body soothing your fraying nerves as sobs tore out of you, raw and helpless. Shame burned beneath your skin like acid. You couldn’t hide, not from him, not like this.

“I’m here,” he whispered again into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t want this. I’m a mess, Buck. I’m broken—”

“You’re not broken,” he said fiercely. “You’re hurting. There’s a difference.”

Bucky didn’t move for a moment. Just stared down at you, breath caught somewhere between panic and heartbreak. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch, not wanting to hurt you more than you already had. But then you looked up at him, shoulders trembling, and his instinct kicked in. 

“Let me see,” he begged, voice rough. “Please, just let me help.”

Shame curled through your stomach as you drew your arm from behind your back, presenting the angry scar like a guilty confession. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the scar, nor the raw magic still flickering faintly beneath your skin like dying embers. His touch was impossibly gentle as he took your wrist in both hands, his thumb brushing the raised edge. You watched his expression twist, not in disgust, but in something quieter. Sadder.

“You healed it yourself?” he asked hoarsely. “Shit, sweetheart… You’re burning yourself out doing this. You already feel like you’ve got a fever, your magic’s drained, you’re shaking—”

“I have to,” you interrupted, voice brittle. “I need to push further. I need to suffer like they did. I need to feel it. Otherwise, how do I understand how I failed? How do I carry their pain if I don't take some of it into myself?”

He froze, as if your words physically struck him.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” his voice cracked. “Driving yourself into the ground just to prove you're useful? That you care? Everyone knows that you do your best, that you care more than any of us.”

You looked away. This was different. This wasn’t just exhaustion from overcasting. You cut this time. You bled. You fused your magic with an act you couldn’t explain, not even to yourself.

And now, even the scar throbbed with shame.

“You’ve always done this,” he went on, softer now. “Pushing your limits. Refusing to rest. Like every ounce of pain you feel somehow makes up for what you think you did wrong. But this…” He looked down at the mark again, his jaw tightening. “This is different. This isn’t just burning yourself out. You hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you choked, the words scraping up your throat. “It just…”

“You think suffering will make you worthy,” he said, quietly but firmly. “But you’re already worthy. And pain isn’t proof. It’s not some punishment you earn for failing.”

Your lip trembled. “It feels like it is.”

He gently reached up and cupped your cheek with a scarred hand, tilting your face toward him.

“I know that feeling,” he said. “Trust me, I know it better than anyone. But this isn’t the way. You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove something we all already know, that deep down you are a kind and caring person who works so incredibly hard to make sure we all return home safe.”

Your tears returned with fresh force, hot and relentless. You leaned into his palm when he cupped your cheek.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you choked out.

“I needed to,” he whispered. “So I could be here. So I could help.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You just made a soft, broken sound and let yourself fall into his arms again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He helped you up gently, arms steady as your legs threatened to give out. You were still shivering and pale. Feverish from the overuse of magic. He turned on the bath and tested the temperature.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he said gently, voice barely above a whisper.

You let him undress you with careful hands, peeling the soiled clothes from your skin one piece at a time. The fabric clung stubbornly in places, stiff with blood. Your own, and that of the agents you couldn’t save. You tried not to think about that, tried not to see their faces. Bucky said nothing as he kicked the clothes aside, but you saw the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of pain in his eyes. You swallowed hard against the lump rising in your throat.

The bath burned as you sank into it, but beneath the sting was something else, relief. The kind that reached deep into your bones, unravelling the numbness that had wrapped around your limbs like ice. You exhaled shakily, sinking lower into the water as the steam curled around your face.

Bucky knelt behind you on a folded towel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He reached for your shampoo without asking, your favourite one, the expensive kind you only used on special occasions. You glanced back, surprised.

He caught your eye and offered a soft, crooked smile. “The one you wear to parties,” he murmured. “Smells like heaven. Drives me crazy every time.”

“You remember that?” you asked, blinking at him.

He gave a soft laugh. “I’ve watched you do this a hundred times.”

It was true, you always took longer than him to get ready. He never minded. He’d lean in the doorway, smirking or pretending to sigh dramatically like some love-struck puppy while you did your makeup. You’d catch his gaze through the mirror as you smoothed on your lipstick, always choosing the brightest shade so that it would leave a mark on his cheek when you kissed him. And he would linger too close under the guise of helping, fingertips grazing up your arms as you asked him to zip your dress, his calloused hands pausing a moment too long at the nape of your neck when he swept your hair aside to clasp a necklace. He touched you like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to, like every moment near you was something he didn’t want to end.

His fingers worked the shampoo through your hair in slow, soothing circles, like he had all the time in the world. The scent of lavender bloomed in the steamy air, wrapping around your frayed nerves like a balm. He rinsed, then repeated with conditioner, combing gently through each tangle with care.

The rhythmic motion lulled you. Your head dipped forward, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion tugged at you like a tide. You forced your hand to move, dragging a washcloth over your limbs just to stay conscious, present. Bucky didn’t speak, not really, just soft hums under his breath, the occasional brush of his knuckles down your spine to let you know he was still there.

By the time the water had cooled and your skin was no longer flushed with fever, he helped you stand. Your legs trembled beneath you like a newborn deer, unsteady and aching, and you sagged into the towel he wrapped around your shoulders. 

“I’ll find you something comfortable,” he said as he helped guide you back to your room.

You dressed slowly, your skin prickling with fresh warmth. When you stepped into the kitchen, wearing one of his old sweatshirts that reached mid-thigh and a pair of fluffy socks.

But it was the sight that greeted you in the kitchen that nearly undid you.

Bucky was standing at the counter, flipping through one of your old cookbooks, the one you’d dog-eared and tabbed over the years with sticky notes and scribbles. He was studying every note you'd left in the margins.

The lump returned to your throat.

“I figured we’d eat in bed,” he said casually, glancing up when he sensed you hovering near the island. “Watch something dumb. That sound good?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah. That sounds… good.”

He turned to look at you, really look at you. Something in his expression shifted, softened. Without a word, he crossed the room and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You melted into him. Arms wrapped tightly around his waist like he was the only thing tethering you to the world.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you had the sense to stop yourself. You didn’t look up, couldn’t.

For a heartbeat, you braced for the silence. For the stillness he sometimes slipped into when feelings got too loud.

But it never came.

Instead, he held you closer, his lips brushing the crown of your head as he voiced a low murmur against your damp hair.

“I love you more.”

[cruel-as-sin]

what happens when you say “i hate you” to different versions of logan (gender neutral) (smut version)

inspired by a conversation with @lostinlovingrevery, hope you all enjoy!

70s!logan

you’ve been having a really bad day. a really, really bad day. the last thing you need is logan brushing you off because he’s “got shit to do, doll.” so you say it, with a stomp of your foot for dramatic effect. you don’t mean it, he knows that. but you aren’t expecting him to also know exactly what you’re asking for, rough hands grabbing you by the hips and shoving you down onto the couch. he grumbles curses under his breath, fumbling with his belt buckle, and you can’t even process what’s happening before he’s pushing into you. the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness, cause your eyes to roll back into your head. upon seeing this, a pleased expression comes to his face. your mind goes blank within moments, no thoughts except the man pounding into you, cigar still perched in his mouth, smoke blurring your vision as he grunts. “there we go. finally fuckin’ quiet.”

origins!logan

you don’t hate him, you hate the grocery store and those assholes at work and the guy who cut you off when you were driving home. but it just kind of slips out- you’re stressed, anxious, and your sweetheart of a boyfriend unintentionally becomes your punching bag. you’ve barely gotten out an apology before he’s wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he studies you with a serious expression, hands rubbing circles against your hips. “you hate me, huh?” you try to reassure him that no, of course you don’t, but he won’t listen, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his true intentions. “seems like we oughta fix that.” despite your protests that you’re fine, he carries you to bed with ease, laying you down and using his tongue to work as many orgasms out of you as you need to be happy and satisfied. “feelin’ better, sunshine?”

animated!logan

it comes after he’s slammed you into the danger room floor for the twentieth time that day. you’re utterly exhausted, just wanting one fucking win, but he’s not letting up. he doesn’t take it easy on you- never does. you have a lot of respect for him for it, but goddamn does it piss you off. that was probably the wrong thing to say, though, given the way he’s staring down at you right now. “hate me? that’s harsh, bub.” something predatory flashes in his eyes. “must not wanna touch me then either.” you get to your feet, glaring daggers back at him. he draws it out with a smug smile, waiting for you to admit the truth- it’s not about if you give in, but when. you’re too proud to admit it- so instead you drag him to the nearest closet, sinking to your knees and unbuckling his belt. his hand fists itself in your hair, guiding your pace as he fucks your throat. he makes you take all of him, forcing you down to the base, grinning when you choke on his cock. “don’t worry. i’ll take this as an apology.”

trilogy!logan

you’re play fighting in the kitchen- a common occurrence as he tries to interrupt whatever you’re doing. today it borders on arguing, which is why the exasperated words direct themselves his way, punctuated by a “so much” for emphasis. he just looks at you, with his gorgeous face that has your stomach doing flips, taking a few steps closer until he’s invading your space. “that’s not what you were saying last night, baby.” the memory of last night, his touch and his filthy words in your ear, brings heat to your cheeks. his breath hits your skin, his mouth tantalizingly close to yours, the proximity making you squirm. before you know it, you’re upstairs, a smug smile on his face as he makes you fall apart with his fingers, begging and pleading for more. the way you writhe underneath him confirms what you won’t confess, and he hums in fake contemplation. “guess you don’t hate me that much after all.”

2013!logan

you want to go out into the city, he tells you it’s not safe. it’s a debate that’s been going around in circles for days until you finally let the words slip. his silence, paired with the flash of anger in his eyes, tells you that was a mistake, but it’s too late to take it back now. not that you would dream of it as he drags you to the bedroom, one rough hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look in the mirror as he sinks you down onto his length. the other lifts your hips up then drops you back down again, a slow but brutal pace. it’s too much, and you feel lightheaded as he growls in your ear. “what do you say, sweet thing?“ still, you’re coherent enough to remember your manners, babbling incoherent thanks and apologies, reduced to a basic vocabulary as he impales you on his cock over and over. tears begin to stream down your face, and his firm hold keeps you there, made to see the way he wrecks you completely, the way you fucking love it.

dofp!logan

you’re tied down to the bed, silk rope binding your wrists and ankles. he’s been teasing you for hours. logan always likes to play with his food- slow, methodical, taking his time with you. and god, you enjoy it, but you’ve been good today and you just want your reward. the words are muttered, frustrated, and you’re grateful when he keeps going. you think must not have heard you by the way he’s bringing you closer and closer to that delicious peak, until his gravely voice is right next to your ear. “careful.” he takes your chin, making you look at him as he pulls his hand away from where you need it most. his eyes are serious, his tone a warning, one that only further turns you on. a whine escapes you, your hips bucking at just how close you are, how much you need this. “don’t want me to leave you here, do you, honey?” he smiles in satisfaction when you immediately shake your head, begging him not to do that to you. “that’s what i thought.”

old man!logan

you know you shouldn’t have said it. of course you know you shouldn’t have said it, but that didn’t stop you from doing it anyway. logan doesn’t move from the armchair he’s sitting in, whiskey bottle lowering from his lips. he raises an eyebrow, looking up at you with an unamused expression. “you done?” meekly, you swallow and nod, mumbling a sorry and thinking that’ll be the end of it. but you think wrong. he sets the bottle on the table, turning to face you again, something serious in his eyes. “c’mere.” he pays his lap. you move to sit, but he stops you with a firm hand against your thigh. “bend over, sweetheart.” your heart races as you realize what your punishment will be. you do as he says, and soon enough, your eyes are filled with tears from the spanking he delivers you. “you know better than to pull that shit on me.” he grumbles, clearly disappointed in your attitude. “don’t do it again, y’hear me? got enough to worry about without you bein’ a brat.”

worst!logan

you’re standing outside the door of your apartment when it happens. you’ve been lamenting to wade and vanessa about how much logan drives you crazy, with his stupid face and huge muscles and unfairly sexy voice. unbeknownst to you, logan is just down the hall, coming back from the grocery store. looking back, you’re fairly certain both wade and vanessa knew he was coming before you did, deciding to leave you to your cruel fate. it isn’t until you feel strong hands on your hips and warm breath on the back of your neck and a suspiciously familiar sexy voice in your ear that you realize the trap you’ve stepped into. “you’re hurting my feelings.” you turn around and are met with a fake pout. who knows where wade and vanessa went, all you know is that he’s backing you up against your door, continuing to get closer even as you stumble through apologies. “that’s it? you’re sorry?” he flashes a toothy grin, something predatory gleaming in his eyes. “come on, angel. i know you can do better than that.” he’s cornering you: nothing to do, nowhere to run- except, of course, his lips. so you give in, tongue crashing against yours, his body enveloping your senses. and trust me, he’s gonna make sure you never think a single damn bad thing about him again.

patch!logan

you’re in the casino, begging him to let you get in on a game. he says your job is to just “sit here and look pretty, darlin’,” but you’re getting really fucking bored. the moment the words cross your lips, you regret it. not just because you don’t mean it, but because you can see immediately that logan is pissed. he gives you a look the likes of which he’s never given you before, and nearly shoves you off of his lap. you wait by the edge of the table until the place empties out for the night, thinking maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. but even when the two of you are alone once more, he still doesn’t say a word, just leans back and spreads his legs- a command, and you must obey it. so you do. crawling towards him on your hands and knees, reaching up to undo his belt buckle. as you pull his cock out, beginning to stroke him, the tip of his boot presses against your thigh, and you realize what he wants you to do. you’ll do anything to make it up to him, including sacrificing your pride. so you do: grinding on his boot, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips, muffled by the way your mouth is wrapped around his cock. all the while he says nothing, staring down at you with a menacing expression, and the only thing you can do is pray that you’ll be good enough that he’ll show you mercy.

cowboy!logan

you don’t even remember what you were fighting with him about. no, that left your head the second the unimpressed expression took over his face and the words “that so?” left his lips. you nod- stupidly, you nod. then you step back, but it’s too late, his lasso wrapping around you and tugging you closer to him. “ooh.” he sucks air in through his teeth, shaking his head with a heavily disappointed expression. “that’s gonna be a problem, isn’t it?” he doesn’t let you answer, pulling on the lasso a little harder and sending you stumbling to the ground. he leans down to be face to face with you, jerking his head toward the empty farmhouse a few hundred meters away. “you’d better find a way to make it up to me, sugar. and fast.” when you still don’t move, don’t say anything, he frowns, clicking his tongue at you. “get to it.” and now his voice has that commanding tone, and suddenly you are letting him pull you towards the dirty mattress in the farmhouse, tying your wrists to the bedpost as he cages you in.

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

💤 "Goodnight, Love"

Ateez Boys Sleep Headcannon 💤 (Jongho, Hongjoong, San, Mingi)

My brain screamed at me to write these ideas down, otherwise it will explode on me, so here we go....

Just a mention here that i am a baby Atiny, probably and surely i haven't seen all the vids, and lore, i am certain this has been done multiple times before, more accurately than me, but please enjoy it without judgment.

I love these crazy pirates, and i hope this little headcannon will bring you joy, comfort and everything else you need. ❤️❤️ Also i will do the others too. :)

Jongho

He is very particular about his space, and while he makes sure that the bedroom is serving his wants and needs, with that he is thoughtful of your preferences too. Whatever you like, he will prepare it for you, so when you join him,- because he will most definitely will be in bed before anyone else in this world - you just have to fall in bed next to him. He probably will read a book while he waits for you, most of the time he busies himself even if he is exhausted. He rarely gets to sleep in the same bed as you, so he wants to spend as much time as possible to feel you slowly falling asleep next to him. He likes the little routine of telling you goodnight, stroking your hair, giving you a peck on the lips, talking a little until he hears your words slow down, voice quieter. He will take your hand in his, using your evened out breathing as his lullaby. He is the perfect example of calm sleeper, even when he shifts in his sleep, he does it with a grace you will never understand, because his side of the bed somehow always look perfect. He likes it when you nuzzle into him, especially when you are the big spoon, legs and arm hooked around him like you are fearing him disappearing in the middle of the night. And while you wake up looking like you slept a whole week, he is unfazed, looking as pretty and perfect as he laid his head down on the pillow the night before. You will definitely tease him about it, and his only response will be a kiss on your forehead with a low chuckle.

Hongjoong

He is an absolute light sleeper, leading a ridiculous sleeping schedule. If you can call that schedule, because he will fall into bed at 8 pm one night, and the next you wake up to him dragging himself to bed at 3 in the morning. He always apologizes for being all over the place, and you always reassure him that it's okay, as long as he is okay with it. You know sometimes he wishes to be next to you, curled up with you, but work keeps him away from the soft pillows and duvet, and for that reason he is completely knackered by the time he finds his bed. He is restless, even in his sleep, all over the place. Sometimes he is asleep as his head hits the pillow, then sometimes he stares at your form for a while before he can even rest his eyelids, let alone slumber. He is chaotic, sleeping is an adventure with him because he will discover every inch of the bed. He will take up so much space you have to push him back to his side, other times he shrinks up into the smallest space, and in search for a cuddle you tap all the to the edge of the bed, him almost falling of if he moves just a little in his sleep. And as his body, his brain can't get a break either, waking him up randomly, in his haze searching for your body with his eyes, hands legs, doesn't matter, he will not settle back until he feels or sees you by his side.

San

San is all for cuddles. He will pull you close in any and every position, he have to have that skin to skin connection, even if it's your pinky toe touching him. (🤣) So when you plop down into the soft duvet, he won't play around, and will pull you into his embrace in an instant. You will switch positions all night, but you will be always in between his hands, tucked to his chest, locked in place by his legs, his head nuzzled into your neck. If you somehow escape his cuddle prison,- because he gives off heat like a furnace- he will search the bed in his sleep to find you and pull you back. There is no argument here, and you know you can't say no to that pout and small whine whenever you try to propose the idea of actually using the sides of the bed, like you are supposed to. Because with San, only the middle is perfect for sleeping, he never sleeps on his side, and he never lets you sleep on yours either. And because he is locked on you all times while asleep, he will be awake right way when you try to get out of bed, asking millions of questions about where are you going. San always has the worst bedhead in the mornings. Doesn't matter how his hair is styled, he will look like a bird just made a nest on his head when he wakes up.

Mingi

Lives for bedtime. Couldn't wait for the moment both of you are in bed, surrounded by darkness, and talk and giggle before falling asleep. This is the time when he can relax, spooning you, holding you as close as possible and just ramble about anything and everything. The darkness often loosens him up, and whatever was on his mind that day he thought he wouldn't share, just comes out easily, laying in bed with you being his safe place. He's always captivates you with his hands, hugging your midsection tightly, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath, and vibrate with his laugh. Legs locking you in place, his face pressed to the side of yours, his lips angles just right by your ear, his breath tickling your ear. You will hear his voice turning husky, the first indicator that sleep is trying to claim him from you, which he tends to fight with all his strength. He will talk and mumble until he eventually falls asleep, with you in tandem because his low sleepy tone is the best lullaby you ever heard. He even talks in his sleep, sometimes waking you up, mumbling back to him something accordingly incoherent. You will end up detaching yourselves in the middle of the night, tossing and turning, but in the morning, he always scoops you back into his embrace, whispering something funny or sweet, and he will definitely hit that snooze button, asking for 5 more minutes.

[wandasaura]

WAIT FOR IT

summary — you’ve been holding it together since the first graze of her fingers against your core in her office — since the look she gave you that promised later seconds after her touch disappeared. every touch since then has been a test of patience, a slow burn stretched across stolen glances and subtle tension. but now, the wait is over. with your bedroom door closed and her body pressed close, olivia unravels you with the same deliberate care she always does — not rushed, not gentle, but intentional. you’ve been aching for this moment all day, and she knows it — because she has, too.

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink, orgasm denial, edging, teasing, praise kink, slight humiliation, light condescension, thigh riding, fingering, hickeys, forced orgasm, multiple orgasm, overstimulation, orgasm control, marking, choking, hair pulling, mentions of firearms, crying, begging, mention of previous injury, finger sucking, firmly believe olivia would coach you through it, nipple stimulation, slight nipples torture, makeouts, men/minors dni

authors note — olivia benson returns. part one here! can be read entirety independently though. enjoy :)

“I’ve wanted to get my hands on you all day.” Olivia’s mouth is slotted against yours to where her upper lip is fitted between yours, and her teeth mark your bottom lip whenever she’s not playing tonsil hockey trying to take your breath away — even more than she already had with her wandering hands and teasing touches on the way home that had been even more infuriating than the entire scene in her office. Her hands had trailed across the small of your back like heavy weight, sometimes trailing lower, lifting higher, falling away entirely only to clap against the globe of your ass when you were least expecting it. She’d disguised every tantalizing spank, concealed every pinch of your nipples when an arm draped across your shoulders and hung over your chest.

You’d been drunk on her touch before, sure, but now the breeze has sobered you, and that yearning for more creates a campfire in your tummy, doing somersaults every time she looks at you the way she is now, with her forehead against yours and her nose just a single tiptoe lean away from brushing against yours. “So, why are you still wasting time?” You panted against her lips, your hands curled into the collar of her blazer. You don’t let the question wash over her for more than a second before you’re kissing her again, sucking a purple patch onto her upper lip that’ll disappear by morning, but remind you of her willingness to be yours for the next few hours.

A hand grabs at your hair, and you briefly considered that maybe you fucked up. You might be resisting her temptation, forcing yourself to remain a fully conscious participant in this scene instead of her fucked-out submissive that begs for anything she’ll give. You don’t know why, there’s no reason, but ever since she’d left you high and dry in her office, there’d been this inescapable need in your belly to avoid sinking into the pillowy blackness. Maybe you were scared. You’d been vulnerable enough today. Whatever the reason, Olivia didn’t appreciate the bratty quip when she’d made it perfectly clear she was taking the reins tonight. “Do you want to try that again?” Her eyes narrowed, her hand yanking that fistful of your hair again until there was stinging tension against your scalp that made your eyes water and your throat contract before a whine fell into your bedroom.

“Please, Liv.” You gasped, your mouth falling open. You already missed the warmth of her against you, and the taste of stale breakroom coffee washing against your tongue every time she taunted the muscle. It wasn’t often she drank break room coffee all day instead of taking a walk down to the cart by the street, but evidently she’d been chained to the precinct for longer than you’d realized, and her only vice had been whatever Fin created for her between paperwork. Her mood makes sense. You don’t know what it is about those beans, but even you know it takes nearly double the cups to feel any caffeine.

You both have your problems right now, but this is going to fix them. It always does. Sex isn’t a cure all in your relationship, but this dynamic is sacred, it's something special built between the two of you, and the simple act of falling into it right now means that neither one of you is too far gone to be present and committed right now. That resistance in your head melts away, something snapping into place so abruptly it almost leads to whiplash, but Olivia doesn’t let your body jolt with the suggestion of submission. That grip on your hair gets tighter when your body goes slack, and the whine that rolls off your tongue isn’t an exaggeration when you wince in pain, fresh tears stinging your eyes as your eyes cloud, your mouth slackens.

Olivia lets go of your head in a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in worry as she makes sure her grip didn’t hurt you anymore than just an accidental pull that was just harsh and not fun. There was a line, a very fine line, but one that you’d learned very well. It had been a while since Olivia’s hands tangled into your hair had sparked tears of pain, not agonizing pleasure. It’s grounding. You can still make mistakes in this space, she can still be imperfect and human, but it all gets smoothed over unlike a case. One wrong step and the whole thing is blown, but not here, not with this, with you. That’s the beauty of it all.

”Please, Mommy. Undress me.” You pleaded with Benson, your eyes a glassy picture to see. Olivia never tired of the sight of you like this, especially not when it got better with time, as she unmade you and left you unraveled on the sheets in bliss. When the tears started falling and begging was the only language you knew, that’s when Olivia would be done with you. When she’d kiss your head, clean you up, and fall into the mattress beside you to sleep until your alarms went off tomorrow morning.

Olivia hummed, a fire flaming bright between her eyes when those five letters rolled off your tongue. She smiled, but she didn’t comply. Instead, one hand gripped your cheeks, pressing your lips together until they puckered like a fish. Your eyes, if they weren’t already a window to your heart, were probably reflective by this point as every thought slipped from your head. It should be embarrassing, she hadn’t even touched you yet, not really anyways, not since her office, but youre drunk on her.

It should humiliate you, the way that she looks at you like she’s inspecting you, trailing her eyes across your empty gaze, your flushed cheeks, your mouth that still tries to remain open and unlatched but is being held together by her fingers. She’d say you look pathetic, because you do, but it gets caught in her throat. “So pretty like this, sweetheart. Mommy hasn’t even touched you yet, but I’m sure those panties are even more wet than they were when I checked before, huh? Are they?” Olivia leaned forward, her tongue softly trailing from your cheek until it hit the corner of your lips. You tried to crane your head to meet her halfway, your body automatically responding to the call of her proximity, but she doesn’t let you move, and you whine. “I asked you a question, honey.”

“Yes, Mommy.” You whispered, attempting to pout with your lips puckered together. Her grip was beginning to ache, the pressure of your teeth beneath her fingertips uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything about it, not that you would’ve been able to. Olivia knows your body, she knows when something is too much, or when it's just uncomfortable enough to send you spiraling into pleasures and overwhelming bliss. You’re on the right track right now, she just needs to lay it on a little more.

“Well, I’d love to make that better for you, sweetheart, but I just don’t want to right now. Mommy had a long day, let her play with you for a little bit, okay?” She coos eventually, but it’s condescending and you know it. There’s a pitch to her voice that cuts right through your heart, and you find yourself whining hopelessly between her palms. Your thighs press together, and Olivia puts an end to that with a slap to your thighs. “Be good for me, baby.” She redirects your frustration with two fingers slotting between your lips in the same second that her grip on your cheek disappears, trailing lower until she can grip your neck, her fingers careful, tight but not digging. “Suck them, baby. Get them nice and wet.”

You dutifully do just that, hollowing your cheeks around her fingers, letting your tongue lap at every groove in her knuckles that have gotten more pronounced with age. Her fingers don’t have the same elasticity as someone in their thirties, still young enough to think wrinkles and constant joint pain was on the horizon of some far away future, and the reminder that she was older, of higher authority, your boss, it put an end to the last sting of consciousness sparking to life inside your brain. Your mouth created a delicate suction around her fingers, suckling every few seconds until you matched the beat of her heart in her fingers, the pulse beneath your tongue something addicting until she pulled it away. Your cry of loss was desperate, and Olivia cooed, her eyelashing batting at you without sympathy, not that you could tell.

Her wandering hands that hadn’t even dared to try and test the waistband of yours pants on the walk home found that silver button with ease in the darkness of your bedroom, the lamp on the dresser connected to a switch on the left sight of the door not even turned on despite how dim the yellow light glows in your bedroom anyways. You hadn’t thought about it, neither of you. She’d been so close to you then that the brown of her eyes had been bright enough to memorize, but she’s stepped back from you now, and you can’t see her. You don’t have tim to think about it, because Olivia’s fingers pull your button loose, somehow without the two digits you’ve damped, and then you’re totally gone, lost in pleasure as her fingers sweetp through your folds clumsily. The act is purposeful, tactical. She nudges your clit uncaringly, probing your weeping hole as she makes a face of contemplation, going faster when it seems like she’s not satisfied with the squelch her fingers are creating. She sinks just one into you, only up to the first knuckle, and you would’ve thought you were back in her office had her wrist not snapped and that single digit soon became two, and then four.

A relentless pace was set, and you saw stars, your head falling backward as breathy gasps and pants slipped into the air. You could feel that coil spinning in your belly, getting tighter and tighter with every scrape of her heel against your enlarged nerves. The sensation was building, budding, but then it was gone, and her hand was in front of her face, and she was liking her fingers clean with a smug smile as she nodded.

“Those panties are absolutely ruined, baby girl.” Olivia pouts and your cheeks blush, red hot and clammy beneath her intimidating glare. She’s so sweet, so soft with you, but you know she wants to be mean. You know that her kindness is a distraction from what she won’t say, but uses her fingers to express. She’s cruel, truly evil sometimes, but when she seals every denial with a pet name that makes your heart soar, how can you realize that she’s breaking you apart. “Come on, let Mommy get you undressed.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, eagerly raising your arms above your head so that she could strip you down. Both of your guns had already been put away, no matter how much Olivia wanted to rip your clothes off, she’d never risk either of your safety. Tucked away in your nightstand, they’d be retrieved again tomorrow morning. But for right now, you think about her hands trailing across your torso when she takes your top off. She turns you around, pulls you back against her chest, her breath is fanning across your neck and its tantalizing.

She tells you that you look beautiful as she trails kisses along your neck until she reaches your earlobe. Her teeth are a dull sensation that you notice when she sinks them into the softest part of your neck behind your jaw, her fingers working on your bra in tandem with her bruising efforts. She lets the material slip off of your shoulders, and when your breast are free, exposed to her in the comfortable air of your bedroom, she lets her fingers be crueler than her words, and calls you a plethora of sweet names until you’re sure there’s a war raging in your belly, her twists and turns and pulls and pinches on your nipples pulling you into pleasure that’s blinding and severe. She’d discovered she could make you cum with nipple stimulation years ago, and while she thought it’s as hot, you thought it was hell. It was intense, all encompassing, the intensity was exhausting, but there was no enjoying it either. The orgasm came quick, it built even quicker, and then it was over and your tummy felt uncomfortable chasing pleasure that had already ended.

Olivia doesn’t let the pleasure build to that point though, and you can’t help but think that this is now the fourth time she’s built you up and denied you and you’re truly not sure how much more of this you can take before the tears start falling and you plead for anything more than empty touches.

You don’t have time to beg, you’re going to, it’s the only thing you can think of actually, but then you’re distracted by her getting on her knees behind you, her hands on your hips until they’re trailing down your thighs. She trails them up again, grabbing the globes of your ass just once, before she’s continuing up until her fingers grapple with the waistband. She eases them down your legs, and when she taps your ankle, you step out of them one leg at a time, wobbling for a moment before Olivia laughs and steadies you. It’s a momentary lapse in her reserve, and it brings comfort over you that you didn’t even know you craved.

She doesn’t waste time letting your panties stay around your waist, they’re the next thing to go, and you shiver when she taps the inside of your damp thighs, sticky with arousal she’s evidently pretending not to notice. You step out of the sodden garment, and then she guides your legs apart, and the rush of air hitting your core makes you whine, your hips jumping. Olivia chooses that moment to bite into the back of your thigh, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when she anticipates the jolt that comes next. A moan rips through your chest, and the vibrations of her moaning shot tingles through your spine.

She lets her tongue run up your thighs, humming in appreciation for the taste that spreads across her tongue every time she swallows. She takes her time cleaning you up, worshiping one thigh with kitten licks and nips before she moves onto the other one. She doesn’t let an inch of your skin go untouched by your tongue, and when she finally gets to the apex of your thighs, you let out the most disappointed moan when her tongue doesn’t immediately part your folds. She takes her time there too, lips wrapping around a lower lip before the sunken loosened and she pulled away with a pop that made your cheeks flame. The other side is just as tedious a process, but she takes you by surprise when one second she’s biting at the softest flesh between your thighs and in the next she’s between your thighs entirely, licking a bold stripe up your slit and moaning unabashedly into your core when that honeypot of moisture dripped onto her tongue.

She’s careful not to flick that sensitive bud too harshly, focusing solely on cleaning you up before she lures you to bed. Your hips twitch, attempting to grind down and find pressure, but she keeps you still, tsking against your core and your eyes roll into the back of your head in bliss. It all ends prematurely, but this time she hadn’t been working you up with the intention to let you down, so the disappointment of her disappearance doesn’t hit as hard.

She guides you to the bed, tells you to lay down, to get comfortable, but you stop her with a hand tangling into the hem of her blouse. “Want to see you.” You plead, and Olivia smiles, letting her palm cup your cheek as she leans down to kiss you sweetly, everything else that had been behind her ministrations falling away.

Olivia appeases your request, stripping down quickly until the sliver of moonlight peaking through the blinds illuminates her body just enough for your eyes to memorize its shape. Her weight disperses on the bed when her knees straddle either side of your waist and her hands frame your head. She kisses you deeply, passionately, and then her lips trail, leaving marks on your chest only where she knows your tops will cover easily. The sole mark on your neck will be light work in the morning, and Olivia knows your limit with marks, and she’s never gone beyond what you’re comfortable having to cover up for a couple of days while they heal.

“How do you want me, baby, hm?” She asks you gently, but the choice isn’t really yours. She doesn’t think her words even reach you, your eyes closed, mouth agape as your back arches off the bed into her chest as your head tilts back at an angle she thinks is definitely uncomfortable. “How about my fingers, yeah? There you go, take them, sweetheart. You’re doing so good, there you go, how does that feel? Tell me, honey, how does it feel to be stuffed with my fingers?” She coaches you, slotting her body until her core is against your thigh. You barely recognize the fact that she’s using you to get off, but if you had, you’d have fallen into this floaty, pleasure drunk headspace regardless. Olivia knew what it did to you when she claimed her pleasure by whatever means she wanted.

“G-Good.” You choke out, only because her words had been accentuated with a sharp snap of her wrist, forcing you to focus on them, to absorb them and process them. “Feels good, Mommy! O-Oh, right there, right there, please! Please!” You should be humiliated that she’s built you up to this point so quickly, but she’s denied you five times now, and that’s not easily forgotten. Every muscle tenses and quivers as the coil builds in your belly, Olivia’s shamelessly just as close, her ministrations affecting her as much as it had affected you. She grinds against your thigh and gasps when a particular thrust changes the angle, the pressure. She rocks her hips harder, another finger slipping into you, three digits keeping you open for her.

She massages that spongy part inside of your walls, pressure ebbing and flowing as she flicks back and forth, stretching apart before everything becomes small again. “You're close already, baby?” She can’t help herself, and the whine you return is enough to make the small moment of cruelty worth it before she apologizes with a bruising kiss, panting against your lips when she pulls away. “Hold it for me.” She can see your face twitching, scrunching up in pleasure that you have no control over, but she asks that of you anyways, because you're a good girl, her good girl, and she knows you’ll make it until she can get herself to fall apart with you. “Tense your thigh, yeah, just like that baby, oh fuck, fuck, no no, hold it, angel, hold it!” She’s desperately, panting against your mouth, too uncoordinated to kiss you. Her fingers are getting lazy, wild, but it feels so good. You’re right there, climbing close, coil breaking little by little and if you don't let it snap soon it’s going to entirely fall to pieces one by one until you're broken and weightless beneath her.

“Please! Please!” You beg, tears slipping down your face finally, everything crumbling at the last possible moment but its perfect timing for Olivia.

“Okay, okay, cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it, let go.” She works her fingers harder, really focusing on it now, and her hips grind against your thigh until they don’t, going still as she pants, comes down from her high. Her fingers are still working inside of you, still pumping, and you think she’s evil for doing this to you when she’s too sensitive for another herself, but you can’t tell her that when moans come one after the other until you’re whining, nearly screaming, crying and thrashing beneath her but she doesn’t let you escape. “You’re doing so good, so good. My good girl, just one more. I know you can do it, give me one more honey.”

You explode, and Olivia grins, kissing you softly as she works you through it carefully, avoiding your clit, just letting her fingers move until she knows you’re done, worn out. You feel every ridge as she pulls them out, and once you’re empty, slightly gaping, pulsing from the absence of her fingers, you whine softly. Olivia shushes you sweetly, and when she moves to get up, to run to the bathroom and get a wet rag to clean you up before you crash, you shiver when the air catches on the wetness she’s left behind, turning its warmth cold and uncomfortable in seconds.

Olivia apologizes with another kiss, though you both know she’s not really sorry at all, and she slips out of the room. You’re hanging onto consciousness when she comes back, awake enough to blink at her and smile softly when she tells you she loves you, and when she slips into bed, the rag thrown on the floor where your clothes are still scattered, she tells you to stop getting hurt at work otherwise she’s going to bench you. You just laugh, because you know she would’ve even dream of it.

[alohajix]

Marked by Midnight

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

Summary: In the fog-drenched town of Willowridge, [Y/N] has always felt the pull of the supernatural. She doesn't know why-only that it thrums beneath her skin, whispers in her blood, and haunts her dreams. She's spent her life searching for answers, for meaning in the symbols and shadows that call to her... and then she meets him.

Harry Styles is the last living heir of a bloodline the world believes to be extinct. A hybrid born of vampire and wolf, he's lived in silence, hidden behind the iron gates of Styles Estate, a crumbling estate thick with history, power, and curse. He doesn't take mates. He doesn't fall in love. Not anymore.

But fate doesn't care for rules.

When she stumbles into his world, a bond awakens between them-raw, ancient, irreversible. What begins as curiosity spirals into obsession. And as secrets unravel and darkness rises, one truth becomes terrifyingly clear: she was his long before they ever met.

And now... she may never leave.

Warnings: tension, obsession, biting, blood play, smut, strong language, supernatural themes (full warnings listed per chapter).

Words: TBD

author note: I'm just dropping this without warning. If someone starts asking questions, you guys haven’t heard from me, okay?? I'm sorry it was awful 😂 but since the first chapter is out in a week, I wanted to treat you with a little something since you guys are the best supporters out here. Thank you for reading me everyday, it means so much to me. Please enjoy this little gift from me to you, I love you 🫶🏻

***

Prologue — Marked by Midnight

Harry’s POV

I felt her the night she was born.

Not in any way that made sense—not in the sound of her cry or the weight of her breath—but in the shift that settled beneath my skin, a subtle crack in the air, like the world had tilted ever so slightly and left me standing at its edge, aware of something I could not see, but could no longer ignore. It was faint, quiet, the barest flicker at the base of my spine, as if a thread had been pulled taut between us, invisible and ancient, humming low with a truth I didn’t want to face.

The bond.

I knew it for what it was the moment it stirred.

It wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.

But this one—hers—felt different.

It wasn’t a blaze, not then. Just a mark, soft and persistent, pressing into a part of me I had long since tried to numb, and I told myself it meant nothing. That I could walk past it. That I didn’t have to feel it grow.

I didn’t want it.

Not because I feared it wasn’t real, but because I knew—deeply, irrevocably—that it was.

I have lived long enough to know that bonds are not gifts, not promises, not salvation. They are chains, silent at first, but pulling tighter with every breath until you can no longer tell where you end and where fate begins. I’ve seen it before—the way it devours—and I wanted no part of it.

Not again.

Not with her.

So I let the years pass, keeping it buried beneath centuries of practiced silence. And still, I felt her—softly, distantly, like a shadow at the edge of thought, like a name I’d never spoken but had always known. Her dreams brushed mine when I wasn’t careful. Her fears echoed through me when the nights grew too quiet. I learned to push it away, to lock the bond down so tightly that I almost convinced myself it would fade, that she would live her life untouched by me, that whatever force had tied us would one day lose its hold.

But the bond never fades.

It waits.

And now, it has woken.

Stronger. Closer. Demanding in a way it never was before.

The mark has surfaced again, this time in her hands, her skin, her blood, and I know what that means. She’s no longer distant, no longer the girl in the dark corners of my mind. She’s here—or she will be soon—and the bond that has whispered for years now roars.

It doesn’t matter that I stayed away, that I tried to keep her free from this. None of it matters now. The bond has claimed her, as it has claimed me, and I can feel her moving closer with every breath. I can feel the weight of what’s coming, and the truth I have run from longer than I care to admit: I was never meant to resist her.

And I won’t.

I can’t.

Because bonds like this don’t break. They only tighten, pulling everything into their center until there’s nothing left untouched. Nothing left unburned.

I’ve kept her safe by pretending I wasn’t already hers.

But now, the time for distance is over.

She’s coming, whether I’m ready or not.

And I don’t know if I will save her—or if I will be the one to break her.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee@pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrystyleshotwife @angeldavis777 @matildasatellite

[silens-oro]

Trespassing (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece 2.5)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and J have a brief heart to heart after he's placed in Smurfs home. Word Count: 721 Content Warning: typical Animal Kingdom warnings AN: this isn't the companion piece I intended to post this week, and it is more of a drabble than anything, but it was burning a hole in my drafts and needed to be posted. enjoy~ please comment & reblog :)

“Walk me to my car, J,” Hawk held Smurf’s smug attention for a solid five seconds, completely ignoring Pope’s piercing eyes next to her, and walked through the house with J trailing behind her. Once they made it outside to the driveway, without listening ears surrounding them, Hawk turned and pulled J into a crushing hug. His arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders and his heart broke when he felt her unsteady breathing.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t-” He tried to soften the blow. Hawk was the strongest person he knew so to see her facade start to crumble? It was foreign territory for J. 

“I’m so sorry, J.” Hawk pulled away, wiping under her eyes. “This is the last place I would ever want you to be.”

“They know you. This whole time you’ve known them.” J didn’t want to sound accusatory, but the way they spoke down to and about Hawk as if she wasn’t in the same room as them made anger simmer under his skin. The way they spoke about Julia before Hawk showed up with Pope was even worse -it was dismissive, like his mom was just a fleeting thought lost to the wind. 

J remembered seeing their faces over the years when he was at Hawk’s shop or at home. She was always irritated when they made their unannounced arrivals, and she always sent him to another room or her office when they showed up. Neither side ever put the pieces together until the day J moved into Smurf’s home. 

J wasn’t angry with her -he couldn’t be. Hawk didn’t have a single nefarious bone in her body and everything she did, she did with purpose. That’s how she raised him. He knew everything she did was to protect him from these people and now that he knew the other side of things she was dealing with, he swore to himself that he’d do everything he could to return the favor.

“Most of my life, yeah. That’s why I’ve shielded you for as long as I could. Everything and everyone that comes in and out of that house turns to rot, J. They never had a chance, but you have a future -one that you’ve worked so incredibly hard for. Do not let them poison you. I can’t…” Hawk took a deep breath, eyes trailing behind J to the big bay window in front of the house. Pope was watching with pinched brows and a firm frown. “There isn’t much I can do other than tell you our house is still our house, J. Yours and mine. That will always be ours. I don’t give a shit what Smurf has to say, and will say. I will always be in your corner, do you understand me?” J nodded and let Hawk pull him into another hug. “I mean it, J. If anything happens you call me. You get to the house. You do whatever you need to. I don’t care what time of day or night it is.” She whispered into his ear. Hawk pulled back and gently held J’s face in her hands.

“I don’t want to be here.” He whispered back. “And I don’t want that psycho in the house with you. Has he treated you alright?”

“I know. I don’t want you here either, but this is what’s been dealt. Don’t rock the boat, alright? Those assholes are volatile on their best days and you’re fresh meat to them. All they’re looking for is to see what you’ll tolerate. Nip it in the bud quickly and things should settle down relatively soon. Just don’t…don’t let them talk you into doing anything stupid. I’m stressed enough without you home as it is.” 

“And Pope?” Hawk’s eyes went back to the window where Pope was still watching them, then shifted them back to J.

“I can handle Pope. Don’t worry about me, okay? I know these people like the back of my hand.”

“J, sweetheart,” Smurf called from the front door. He turned to look at her and Hawk dropped her arms to her sides. “Come inside, baby. We’re about to have lunch.” Smurf’s eyes were pinpointed on Hawk and she felt their immediate effect -you’re trespassing. 

“Remember what I said, J.” He turned back to Hawk, his hazel eyes full of uncertainty as he nodded and started walking back to Smurf. 

please comment & reblog :)

[lostpiewrites]

hello ☺️

Una petición por favor, sean los chicos lectores furin x, ¿cómo reaccionan si accidentalmente tocan el pecho de su novia?

"Can i ask you sth please , how would Furin boys react when they have accidentally touched their gf's chest ?"

a/n : Hello dear. Ofc you can ask whatever you want but i am sorry idk Spanish so i will have to write it in English. I hope you enjoy nonetheless. If there is anybody else you want apart from these , you can ask me for part 2 with them spesifically in it. Also the image credit is for @/aucrowne.🩷🩵

My Treasure Chest 💎

ft : Haruka Sakura , Hayato Suo , Akihiko Nirei , Mitsuki Kiryu , Sugishita Kyotarou. (Furin first years in short)

Haruka Sakura

This boy probably was aware of the close proximity before it even happened.

His back was facing you and he turned around. But at that moment you were walking forward and boom... His hand crashed with your chest. ACCIDENTALLY. I repeat , accidentally.

He goes O.O first then goes in order like this ; powder pink , hot pink , tomato red , cherry red. You are worried if he even is breathing anymore.

Won't apologize , won't acknowledge anything that happened , won't even listen to you when you try to ask what happened or that it was okay and you understood it. Will straight up dash out of the door and you never see him for the next week.

Hayato Suo

You were walking around the town with him and other Furin boys , they were strolling and you were just tagging around.

Then a raid happens to the town. You guys were caught off guard so Suo just gently grabs your shirt and pulls you behind him hurriedly. But that part of your shirt happens to be your chest. In the heat of the moment , neither of you paid attention to it that much.

But later at night , he is tossing and turning around in his bed , or just straight up staring at the ceiling. He tries not to be perverted but he can't help and think like "okay it's embarrassing but come on , it was so soft. and besides she is my gf. it wouldn't be that weird if i liked her body right ?"

Akihiko Nirei

This man loves animals but he wasn't prepared for a sneak attack ; when a dog came out of a side road silently until near you and barked very loudly in his ears , making him jump into air and launch himself at you. If it was animated , that scene would have electricity flying around him due to the sudden startle.

He hugs (!) you for dear life. Which in fact is him clutching at your chest while his face is buried in your neck in fear. You have to warn him that the dog is gone. When he lifts his face he sees your rightfully blushed cheeks then where his hands are placed.

He is blushing even more than you do. Immediately backs away but unlike Sakura he tries to apologize. Key word : tries. "I am sorry. Very very sorry. I didn't mean todkjsnzhdnzjangeknzjsnzudbzjd" is probably what you will hear.

Mitsuki Kiryu

You were walking through shopping malls with him on a date when you tripped over a shoelace and fell on top of him.

He didn't fall to the ground with force and held you instead. But unfortunately in that moment , it happened to be at your chest.

He is aware of what he did but it was accidental so he doesn't see anything wrong and knows you will understand. So he doesn't really talk about it.

Will pull his hand back. Not too slow that it will make him look like he is taking advantage of the situation. But also not fast enough that it will make you realize it and be embarrassed. Perfect pace and a perfect face-d gentleman.

Then proceeds to kneel down and casually tie your sholaces so you don't fall down again , while you are over there having a cardiac arrest.

Sugishita Kyotaro

Okay i am going to be honest here , no matter how tall you may be , this man is probably 2 you put on top of each other. So how did his hand get into contact with your chest remains a mystery.

When he realizes , he doesn't react immediately. He pulls his hand back slowly and walks away. Scowling and growling embarrassedly like a baby lion.

If anyone else dares to say sth on it , he goes "I'll crush you" with the most Sakura-like blush ever. After that blush , no one takes him seriously. (Ma poor boi)

Doesn't get into your personal area for the whole rest of the week, even just for a simple hug or holding hands. Because he remembers what happened and how it felt when people teased him , so he will AVOID living that embarrassment again.

[alastor-simp]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏: His Butler, Unexpected Guest

Tags/Warnings: Isekai/Travel To Another World, Female Reader, Will be some swear words/curse words

Notes: This chapter will be short, I'm sorry, still trying to get a clear mindset of how I want this story to go, plus I will need to rewatch season 1 since I forgot most of what happened

Credit Divider: @thecutestgrotto

**In Present Time- 2025**

"Sigh, what a day." Walking through the door of your apartment, you heaved a sigh of relief, having just dealt with a tiring day at work, legs aching from standing up all day. No way said working in a chef kitchen would be easy, but the pay was good and it let you do what you enjoyed the most, cooking. Hanging up your work attire, you ventured closer to the lounge area of your apartment, plopping down on the couch, head leaning back against the cushion. Pulling out your phone, the digital screen read 8:45 PM, indicating it was time for dinner. After washing up in the bathroom, adorning your kitty-themed lounge-wear, you headed to the kitchen, cooking up some ramen noodles, ready to relax and enjoy your anime marathon time.

Once the food was all set, shuffling to the couch, you laid back again, pulling out your headphones and sticking them in your phone, along with your charger, since the battery on your phone was drained from watching anime on your work break. Swiping at the screen, fingers tapped on the anime button, rapidly pressing on S1 of Black Butler, as episode 1 began to play. This series was your go to show, it was something you could watch over and over again, and never get tired of it. It's story focused on the main protagonist, Ciel Phantomhive, abused by a cult, having also witness his parents being murdered, managed to summon a demon, Sebastian Michaelis, and form a soul contract with him, where his soul would be offered as payment after he exacted revenge on those who tortured him and planned to have his family exterminated. You were happy that the anime was still ongoing, including the manga, as you patiently waited for the next chapter to drop.

"If there is any god out there, please give a chance to meet these characters. It would be such a cool experience" You said, looking up to the ceiling, praying to whatever make believe god to grant your wish. Pfft, yeah right, the chances of that happening were slim, but oh well, a girl can imagine. Wrapping yourself in a blanket, head pressing against the couch cushion, you continued to watch the show, laughing at certain parts of the episodes, until you felt your eyes grow heavy, falling into a deep sleep.

**Time Skip**

There was odd voices speaking in the background as you slept, two of them sounding frantic while the other was very gruff. "Oh dear, oh dear! What happened to them?" "She was laying there all by herself, I hope she is alright." "She looks very pale, poor lass." The voices got clearer and clearer, making you open your eyes, "Huh?" Upon opening them, you noticed that you were not in your apartment anymore, the room being incredibly massive with a chandelier hanging down, and tall windows. "What the?" Jolting up, your eyes continued to dart around the room, wondering where the hell you were. The voices you heard belonged to the three individuals on the other side of the room, one dressed in a maid outfit with glasses, one in a gardeners outfit, and the other with a chef outfit. They noticed you had awoken, scurrying closer to you to see how you were doing. "Oh she is awake she is." The maid inched closer to you, her large glasses nearly falling from her face.

The gardener had grabbed the blanket that was on the seat, covering it around your shoulders, "Are you alright miss? You were outside in the blistering cold." He said, his innocent eyes peering at you. "Y-yes I am" Your answer heaved a sigh of relief from the young boy, glad to know you were okay. The gruff man patted your head, giving you a soft smirk, "You bloody scared Mey Rin and Finny to death." The words "sorry" left your lips the second the chef said that, brain still trying to process what was going on. "Wait? Mey Rin and Finny? Aren't those the names of the servants from Black Butler?" Mind cluttered with thoughts, you tried to figure out what in the hell was happening. "Oh I must let the young master know our mysterious guest is awake." Mey-rin bolted out of the room, nearly tripping on her shoe-laces as you were left with the other two servants. After waiting a couple minutes, the door to the room opened, where a tall butler walked in, with long black hair flowing down his face, wearing a devilish smile . Along side him was a another male, dressed in a knickerboot suit with shorts, cane in one hand and an eye patch on the other.

"Finnian, Baldroy. You are free to return back to your duties." The butler spoke, as he gave a smile to the servants. "Yes, Sir!" Both of them gave a salute, turning to look at you with a smile as they headed out of the room, leaving you alone with the other two people in the room. The young boy walked closer, moving to sit on the other chair across from you, placing his hands on his lap, as he continued to stare at you. His eyes were monitoring you, probably trying to determine if you were a threat or not, yet there was a hint of kindness in them "Pleasure to be meeting you, My name is CIel Phantomhive, Lord of Phantomhive manor and the Queen's Watchdog. The man next to me is my butler, Sebastian." Sebastian gave you a kind smile, placing his hand on his chest and giving you a bow. There was no way this was happening, you must be dreaming. Pinching the side of your arm, you waited for the moment you opened your eyes, hoping to break out of this dream. When nothing happened, you realized this was reality, "What the fuck?"

-FIN-

Tag List: @rhyzoma , @yukiinee , @wokasiv

[radicalityincident]

God I hate how normalized not being in control of your own devices has become. My phone updates in the middle of the night without asking me shit or getting my consent for anything and its like "Oh hi I'm your new AI, please enjoy this forced overlay that you can't exit out of until you go through my tutorial"

"Great fuck you, I would like to uninstall you" "Oh I'm sorry you can't uninstall me! I'm a core system application and if you uninstall me your phone won't function correctly despite the fact that I did not exist yesterday and your phone worked fine" "....." "You can disable parts of my functionality but I will always be here and I will pop up notifications asking you to re-enable me unless you figure out how to disable those too! Then I will still show up in a different color at the top of your settings application telling you that you need to 'fix" a 'problem' with your phone, that problem being that I am disabled. Does that help?"

Like, you know what I can do on my desktop? "sudo pacman -Rdd linux" , this will just fucking remove the entire linux kernel. Fundamentally breaking my computer until I boot up a live disk and chroot in and reinstall it or whatever, and the computer will go "Are you sure (y/n)" or whatever and i'm like "y" and it will just go "Ok you got it boss"

But its mine, I get to do what I want with it. I control the computer, the computer does not control me. I refuse to cede control to my phone or anything else. The thing is a lot of people will joke that like "Oh I love just letting the machine tell me what to do, I don't know what I'm doing, it knows best" or whatever but the thing you have to realize is that when you say that you are abstracting away that "the phone" or whatever is not some value neutral logic driven robot like from sci-fi, it is a collection of the the capitalistic and fascistic desires of the tech oligarch fuckwits that are burning the world to the ground right now. You aren't submitting to the phone, you are submitting to Musk, Bezos, Nadella, Pichai, Cook and all those other evil bastards.

Fuck them, fuck their little AI toys, and fuck this.

[anths-girl]

☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻 THISSSSSS!!!!

I myself won't get to see it until it comes out on digital. So that's easily a good month, month and a half, or more. So, for the LOVE OF EVERYTHING, TAG YOUR FUCKING POSTS!!!! I will obviously be blocking ANYTHING Thunderbolts related from around next week, but that won't do jack shit, if posts aren't tagged.

So yes, asking, politely, PLEASE TAG YOUR POSTS ACCORDINGLY. Not all of us have the means and money and whatever, to go watch films when they come out, but we still want to enjoy them when we DO finally get the chance to watch them, SPOILER FREE! Please be respectful of that!!!!

Hey so if you went to an early screening of Thunderbolts* and you're posting about it, please keep in mind: THIS MOVIE DOES NOT COME OUT FOR TWO MORE WEEKS TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC!!!

Marvel does test screening all the time and this was the first time they've been this open with it and all you're doing if you post spoilers is showing them exactly why Marvel fans are truly the reason this franchise is falling off.

So if you get on the internet and openly run your mouth, fuck you. You're an asshole. Some people actually enjoy going into a Marvel movie on opening day and being surprised. Hope you enjoyed it this one fucking time bc I highly doubt they'll do this again.

[wolfish-trickster]

People pleaser(s)

Astarion x f!reader/Tav

Word count: 5.8K

Summary: Astarion pleased people to survive, you pleased them to keep them with you. What happens when one people pleaser meets another? Trauma is what.

Warnings: angst (like heavy amount), trauma (lots of it), typos, grammar mistakes

A/N: based off of this. A random 3am motivation hit and i thought why not write the whole thing myself 😅

Observe, listen, learn, use, lure. Those were the tactics Astarion used while under Cazador's reign.

Observe: go into a crowded space, usually a bar or a tavern, look for people, preferably lonely or loners.

Listen: sit close to them, listen to the conversations they are having, either with their friends or bartender.

Learn: if his new target is a regular and a hard nut to crack memorize every detail about them for future use.

Use: talk with them, compliment them, tell them what their heart yearns to hear, use his aquired knowledge from previous steps to his advantage, mold himself into the person they desire

Lure: give them a night of passion, promise them more, and while they're still drunk on the pleasure he gave them, take them back to Cazador's palace.

This was the regime he lived under for around two centuries. A flawless plan no one was able to escape nor evade. Until one fateful night he got kidnapped by mindflayers. Those retched tentacled beasts. And yet he was grateful. Even death or changing into one of them was better than his life so far. But fate had other plans.

It lead him to you, among other people. You were sharp, aggressive in just the right amount, but soft and caring when needed. It was obvious you were the leader of the group he stumbled into. This new status quo gave him a new perspective of life, of his situation. He was still undead, still tormented by sanguin hunger, but he could walk on the sun now. He could cross rivers and enter buildings without needed invitation first. Small things, but they made him feel much more powerful, more in control of his life. Once he realized it, it made his head spin. For the first time he was free.

And he could be even more. If only...

If only he played his old tricks on you. To get you to like him, love him even. You'd aid him greatly in defeating his former master.

And so, reluctantly but partialy out of habit, he fell into his old ways.

Observe: some days it seemed like you were everywhere at once, helping everyone with everything and yet no one has done the same for you

Listen: there wasn't much listening on his part. You were the one to listen to your companions. Whatever bothered them, their opinion, their life story, the topic varied but you always listened, never spoke.

Learn: from his observing he has learned, well, practically nothing about you. You never talked about your past or your interests. And yet that has told him everything he needed to know.

Use: when you walked up to him and asked him anything, he always turned the conversation back to you. Oh him? He's good today, how are you doing? Late at night when you volunteered to keep watch (of course you always did) he kept you company and gave you the space to talk your heart out. It was to make you see him as a trustworthy companion, someone all he sees is you. And even though it was all part of his plan, very deep inside he has started to quite enjoy the alone time he had with you

Lure: it didn't take much convincing to take you to his bed. Or rather to take you to a forest. True, you've refused him the first time, no doubt playing hard to get. But the second time he only needed to use a charming word or two and, even though an expression he couldn't quite put a finger on flashed through your face, you agreed. You came. Several times in fact.

And that was it. Nicely wrapped around his finger. Or so he thought.

"You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?"

You took a sip of the wine he so generously shared with you and shook your head. "No, sorry. Too tired."

"Come now, don't be coy. Or do you need a bit of enticing?"

You pondered a bit. With a held breath he waited for your answer, already preparing some of his favourite lines that would definitely work on you in case you insisted on your previous answer. The last few days you have been spending more and more time with everyone else rather than him. Astarion found it quite odd, people like you usually get attached to people like him. Nevertheless, he needed to remind you what he can give you. In return for your help and protection, of course.

Eventually after looking around a bit, most likely checking if your companions were asleep, you nodded with a sigh. Not an enthusiastic one, as he observed.

"Is something the matter?" He asked.

"Huh? Oh. No, nothing. I'm just really tired. But, I mean, you want to, so..."

"Oh my sweet," he took your chin between his index and middle finger and tilted your head up to look at him, "trust me, after some time with me you'll fall asleep faster than a babe. You'll never have a better rest than in my embrace," he purred.

*

Paradoxically after that night you avoided him even more. And Astarion has put such a work into pleasing you! What went wrong? Will you not sleep with him anymore? Not that he'd complain, but to think about the consequences it could bring him. Any misstep, any minor inconvinience and you could chase him off the camp. Others merely tolerated his presence, none of them would stand up for him if his exile was ever brought up. Well, maybe Karlach would, but she seems to mindlessly love everything and everyone, like a huge beastly looking puppy. A true enigma, that woman.

Since sex was no longer working he tried to at least be useful to you. However every help, every assistance, every chance of him spending even a minute longer than needed in your presence was met with a "no, thanks Astarion, I can handle it."

His position? Hopeless. His skills? Useless.

As he was drowning in despair he didn't even hear the conversation with a drow you've discussed some potions with. Until the word spawn was mentioned.

"What's your name, spawn?"

"Astarion," he said.

"Astarion," the woman repeated. The way she prolonged the wovels in his name made him shudder. Even more when he finally registered the stench that has been enveloping them and which his mind was ignoring for the past few whiles. It was coming from her. Her blood. Astarion surpressed the need to gag.

"I can give you a potion of incredible power. It isn't for sale, but it's yours," the drow told you and then turned her head towards him, "if you bite me."

"What? You want to be bitten?" He must've hit his head. Or has Gale put a spell on him to make him a complete fool?

He glanced at you but your face remained emotionless. No indication of what you wanted him to do. Or if you even wanted the potion at all. Though, he promised himself to win you over by any means possible, he simply couldn't push himself to drink that foul excuse of a blood in that drow's veins.

"I would have to decline," he tried. It's been a long time since he had said similair words to anyone. It felt foreign, but powerful in a way. He liked it.

"Excuse me?" She exclaimed. "This is a chance of a lifetime."

"I gave you my answer," he growled. This, the ability to say no. To finally be the one shaking their head and declining. It made him higher than any passionate night ever did.

"Ugh, can you talk some sense into him?" The drow turned to you.

You blinked at him and he finally could read your expression: confusion. Well, better that than anger, right?

"I kinda thought you'd jump at the opportunity there."

"Can you give us a moment?" He said way too sweetly as he took your shoulder and fully turned you away from everyone to have some privacy with you.

"Are you seriously asking me to do this?" He asked and prayed to all gods you'd tell him no, just like you always did.

"Why? What's going on? You're not hungry?"

"It's her blood. It's," he inhaled to get a better grasp at what it actually reminded him of, "rotten. Drinking it wouldn't kill me, but it certainly wouldn't be pleasant."

You shrugged. "It's your life. Your choice. Do as you want."

"Really?" He was taken aback. Do you even realize what you just said? What amount of power you just gave him? After nearly two centuries he was given his will to choose for himself. Free of consequences, with no conditions or threats of violence. "Thank you," he told you before turning back to the drow and releating his proud no.

As all of you were leaving back to the camp Astarion couldn't surpress the smile blooming on his face. He has done it. He said no. He declined someone access to his body. Granted, only to his fangs, but even that's a wonderful start.

Then his thoughts went back to you, as it was a custom since he joined your group. It was some weeks since the two of you layed together the last time. Even longer since he was usefull to you in any way. Even in battles the one with the most blood on their hands was Karlach and not the charming rogue. He hasn't given you a reason to stand up for him like that. Or to care for him in any way. He was almost sure you've even grown to hate him. And yet your actions proved otherwise.

He observed you again. You still helped wherever you could. Still listened and played therapist for everyone. Wait, that's it!

"Y/N dear," he aproached you one night, "can we talk?"

He took in your doe slightly startled eyes. How the stars twinkled in them. It made his chest twist in this unknown way.

"Sure, what do you need? You don't want to sleep with me again," you took a small defensive step back," do you?"

"What? No, don't you worry. Even masters of the horizontal tango need some rest. I wanted to ask you," he wasn't even sure what is it he wanted to know. "I wanted to ask..."

You waited patiently for him. No interuptions, no hurrying him to just spit it out. As if you were the immortal one with plenty of time on your hands.

"Do you hate me?" He spat out almost as a one word. There, it was out.

"What? No. How did you even come to think of that?"

"Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?"

"No need for that," you halted him. "Just... did I do something you didn't like? Was I annoying? Just tell me and I'll stop."

"What? You think you've done something to me?"

You nodded.

He laughed. "Oh my, how funny you are. No, you haven't done a thing I didn't find absolutely indearing. It might've been me who overstepped. But no need to nitpick about the past. You don't hate me and that's all I needed to know. Have a pleasant rest of the night, dear," he waved you goodbye but before he could go back to his tent you called out for him.

"Astarion wait," you tugged at his sleeve to stop him, "can you at least tell me what I did to make you think so low of me?"

He was quiet for a while. Now that he thought about it, the reason was quite silly. Or maybe that's just his mind playing with him. "You weren't spending as much time with me anymore," he admitted and now that it was said outloud he cringed. He sounded like a whiny teenager with a crush rather than an experienced rake.

"Oh," you let go of his sleeve. "I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose."

"I know, how can anyone neglect this wonderful bastard on purpose after all," he ran his hand through his curls and made them a bit more puffy.

You chuckled and bid him goodnight. Back in his bedroll he kept replaying your chuckle in his head. Was it just him or did it sound sweeter than usual? And what is this twisting in his chest again? It must be just delusions from his hunger. Even though he has sucked dry one huge deer an hour ago he must've become hungry again. But even when hunting for a new prey he barely focused. His mind kept doing what it did since he joined your group: thinking about you.

*

His feelings grew from minor twisting and turning into a full body reaction whenever he was close to you. Which is all the time nowadays. You must've taken his complaining about your lack of companionship to heart since you've practically become his shadow from that night forward. Not that he minded, of course. You fed his ego wonderfully and at times Astarion had difficulties remembering he was supposed to be doing that to you, not the other way around. He was supposed to make your heart sing for him, your hands itch to be on him, your eyes stealing glances at him and shyly turn away once you notice him staring back. How dare you reverse the roles he planned for the two of you!

Then again it wasn't so bad. Waking up and having thoughts of anything else rather than survival was a nice change, especially if those thoughts were of you. Especially now that the two of you spend so much time together. It felt like getting to know you all over again.

He was more than sure you were discussing your mutual fear of snakes with Gale a few months back. Now you excitedly tugged on his arm and pointed at any legless reptile you spotted on your path. Maybe he had a therapeutic effect on you.

Nearly everything he learned about you before was wrong. But that made you that more exciting. And that more easier to care for.

He couldn't bear it any longer. He needed to tell you the truth. You were much too good of a person to be left in a lie. Even though the loving words he told you before as a lie became true. You still deserved to know.

"You see I had a plan. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, slelp with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was easy. Instinctive. Two hundred years of charming people kicked it and all you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you. Which is where my nice simple plan fell apart."

Throughout his whole confession he closely studied your face. It changed from curiosity to shock to sadness. But never anger. A good sign to continue.

"You deserve something real. I want us to be something real."

Your expression was still sad. How come? It was supposed to turn into hapliness. He just opened up before you, poured out all his feelings and gave you his heart on a silver platter. Then again he should've seen this coming. You were much like Karlach. A fearsome fighter but pure as a lilly. And what he has done to you, what he has just confessed to... you truly deserved something better than him. He wouldn't even hold it against you.

"Well, since we're admitting to secrets and all that, I don't want to leave you hanging," you nervously played with your fingers, "I also have something to confess to."

If Astarion still had a beating heart it would sink to his feet upon your next words.

*

"People come and go. Some decide to stay, some don't. That's life, Y/N. You just have to accept it and move on. Someone great will show up for you soon, I'm sure of it."

Those are the words your parents used to tell you everytime a friend of yours distanced themself from you or outright left you. When you were little you believed their words and always held hope that someone will show up and finally stay. To fulfill your dreams of a big friend group, fooling around under the summer sun, talk spooky stories around campfire. Things you saw other people do, living your dream.

But no matter who came across you they always left one way or another. It started to seem like athe whole world was against you. Once you couldn't bear the unfairness and you outright asked a friend who started to avoid you for a reason. Why they all started to avoid you.

"If it smells like shit everywhere you go maybe you should check under your shoe," they snickered, as if they haven't spend the past few momths with you, as if you were a pest.

But they were right in a way. Compared to your peers you were quite odd. While others steered clear of corpses you had no problem poking their eyes out, no matter what species or size your macabre plaything was. Most people would stay away from fights with people twice their size, but once you got riled up enough you weren't affraid to throw a punch yourself, even tricking bigger oponents so you weren't the only one with a busted lip. Your fashion sense and taste in music wasn't much better.

Over the years you perfected your abilities to see through people. Look for what they wanted. If a soft spoken friend was what they desired there you were, telling them flowery words you studied night before in a cheap romance novel. If a drinking buddy was needed you experimented with different types of alcohol to see which one can your body tolerate the best and then off you went to the pub with your new friends, making youself look like the biggest expert. If any as much as glared at something you found utterly indearing, whatever it was, you completely agreed with them. You even had to stop wearing some of your most favourite accesories. It broke your heart but it was a neccessary sacrifice.

As years passed you learned even better to expect people's needs ans fulfill them before they even voiced them. You even found a bit of a fun in it all. Putting up different masks depending who you were with. If birds of feather fly together was literal, your flock of friends was the most diverse in the nature. You had obtained friends of any kind, size, personallity, race, rank, gender, sexual orientation, quite everyone to be honest. You never had this many friends. None of them knew the real you but you couldn't care less. None of them left you. It was all that mattered. You swore you have forgotten what being abandoned even felt like.

Until Astarion.

When he first joined you didn't feel much about him. Blood thirsty, flirtatious, most likely dark past. You've had at least three people like him and they all became your friends in under a week. Getting him would be easy.

And it was. Few compliments here, some ego strokes there and he was happily sitting by the fire with you, even right next to Gale if you arranged it so.

You seemed to go up a level in his eyes when you offered him to drink from you. Despite all your instincts yelling at you to get the hell out of there you pushed through it and gave him as much of your life force as you could. He became tamer than Scratch after that day. Not that you've used it against him. You were just glad he took a liking to you. So what if you were dizzy the whole day afterwards.

But then it all changed when he asked to bed you. In all your life you've had friends who mistook your kindness for flirting but you've always turned them down. By the time they even worked up the courage to ask you've built yourself into such a good friend to them that even a romantic rejection wouldn't make them leave. Pleasing them and telling them what they wanted to hear was one thing but being intimate, letting them close to your body, was completely different. Even you had rules and boundaries you simply refused to change.

His first request was met with a harsh rejection. He was sulking for couple of days but you were sure he'd be like before in no time. He still fought with all his might and joked around but more often than not you've felt his piercing gaze on you. As if he was studying you. For sure trying to figure out why you've rejected him. He looked like the type that wasn't told no often after all.

Then you noticed how closer he grew with Karlach. Of course he did, she was the most lovable person you've ever met. You could even be yourself around her to a degree. Her ruthlessness in battles always came as a whiplash to you though. The duality of her, a true mystery she was.

She started to gush about him more too. No doubt viewing him as a quirky little guy since he couldn't harm her at all. Even enjoying his stupid jokes the most.

By the time Astarion's second proposition came you've been trying to make up your mind. No doubt if you refuse him again he'll grow bored and leave. He's too proud to stay after being rejected. When his question finally fell you glanced around and took a sight of Karlach. That huge warm ball of pure joy. If her favourite jokester left the camp, you couldn't bear the sadness on her face. So you agreed.

You drank a whole bottle of wine on your way to the agreed place in the forrest. Far away from the camp. You couldn't figure out why. Was he a loud lover? Would you be? Only one way to find out.

Or not.

He kissed you and that's the last thing you remember. The next thing you know you were laying on the grass, naked and sweaty, with Astarion standing afar, taking in the morning sun. Was it morning already?

Without a sound you gathered your clothes and sneaked off. You passed a small creek on your way, in it you've washed away the previous night. Despite the cold water bringing you back to reality you still felt touched, tainted. Your brain couldn't remember a thing but your body did and it disgusted you. But Astarion was apparantly happy. He wouldn't leave. All was good.

*

It was all a mistake, you told yourself. Of course now that he has had a taste he wanted more. Even though you gently turned him down and even suggested someone else or outright offered to go to the nearest town and search for a brothel, hells you'd even give him some of your gold if needed, he still only asked you. Why? It was beyond you. The same scenario played out again. He asked, you declined, he insisted, and even though you were quite curious about his was of enticing people you caught a glance of Karlach again, reenacting some funny scene from her life for Shadowheart. The smile on her face...

You agreed, again. This time you at least wanted to feel good. You didn't drink in hopes of remembering at least the pleasure. That was what the sex was about right? Pleasure, climax, a feeling most of your friends quickly got addicted to and gushed about infront of you.

You felt nothing. Mentally you were there, but more like an autopilot. He kissed your neck, so you tilted your head to give him more space. Not because it felt good being kissed there, becuase of how he moaned while he licked up your pulse. When he made a sound so did you. When he caressed you, you caressed him bacm. You mirrored him as best as you could to make him not suspect a thing. However there came a moment when you just needed to cry. You quickly pulled his head into the nape of your neck so he didn't have to see and question what kind of a weirdo you were. Crying during the most pleasurable part. Truly weird beyond belief.

The next morning you couldn't even look him in the eye. He did nothing wrong and you knew it. It wasn't worth it. Torturing yourself like this. Not for Karlach, not for him. You were done. If he ever asks you again you'll reject him. You didn't care if he stayed or left anymore. He must've had his fill of you. You won't give him anything more.

*

"Do you hate me?"

That question was like a punch to the gut. Completely out of the blue too. "What? No. How did you even come to think of that?"

Your own thoughts were racing as well as his. You did most of the chores around the camp, even those you agreed would be his. Just becuase you won't let him use your body as he pleases doesn't mean all your people pleaser instincts will leave completely. If you can't give him your body you'll at least gift him your own free time. Still even after that he tried to come and take som chores off of your hands but you wouldn't let him. You had to keep on moving, it distracted you from what he did to you. Or rather what you did to yourself.

Even later at the drow you stood up for him when she just treated him as a peace of meat. You just didn't have the heart to let her.

"Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?"

"No need for that," you halted him. "Just... did I do something you didn't like? Was I annoying? Just tell me and I'll stop."

"What? You think you've done something to me?"

You nodded. What else could be the reason? It was always your fault others left. Maybe you've slipped up on accident and showed him a part of you that annoyed him. For some reason keeping up a mask around was harder and harder with each passing day.

He laughed. "Oh my, how funny you are. No, you haven't done a thing I didn't find absolutely indearing. It might've been me who overstepped. But no need to nitpick about the past. You don't hate me and that's all I needed to know. Have a pleasant rest of the night dear," he waved you goodbye but before he could go back to his tent you called out for him.

"Astarion wait," you tugged at his sleeve to stop him. You needed to know. "Can you at least tell me what I did to make you think so low of me?"

He was quiet for a while. Then he spoke. "You weren't spending as much time with me anymore."

"Oh," you let go of his sleeve. "I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose."

"I know, how can anyone neglect this wonderful bastard on purpose after all," he ran his hand through his curls and made them a bit more puffy.

You chuckled. He must've figured out you loved his hair. It looked even better under moonlight. You shook yourself from admiring his hair and bid him goodnight.

How could you have been so careless? Neglecting him like that. You felt hurt, true, but it was your fault you felt like that, not his. He didn't do anything wrong. None of them ever did.

After you were done beating yourself up over your stupid mistake you promised yourself you'll spend more time with him. Hells, you'll become his tail if needed.

And as you were falling asleep you thought to yourself that maybe being that close to him won't be so bad.

*

Astarion was truly weird. But in a good way.

First you halt all intimacy after he has had a taste of you. Then you avoid him to the point he thinks you hate him. And yet he's still there, every single morning you expected him to be long gone he still greets you and compares your hair to a birds nest, offering his hair taming services for you.

You started to ease up a little around him. Being with him all the time was a bit overwhelming in the begining but the more time you spent together the more slip ups you made. And the wider his smile seemed to become.

Sooner or later you've dropped your mask completely around him. Told him what you thought, freely got excited about anything you encountered on the road, talked endlessly about topics most found boring. But Astarion? No boredom ever showed itself in his eyes. He only looked at you as if you were his whole world. Even when you were in a city negotiating something you could still feel his gaze on you.

His touches began to linger too. Before you just bit your cheek and let him touch you as he pleased. As long as his hands didn't wander you didn't exactly mind, if he wanted to you let him. But something has changed about him. Or rather the way you see him. His touch was less calculated and more... friendly? Sort of shy? When he was trying to get inside your pant the first time he usually brushed his palm along the small of your back with a wink but now, all he needed to slightly blush was for the backs of your hands to make a contact while you walked. Did you misread him in the begining?

The answer came like a lightning from clear blue sky.

Here you were now, listening to the rogue vampire who you grew to love despite how much pain you suffered through just to keep him from leaving, telling you about he was forcing himself as well all along. At first you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but you could only feel sadness and sympathy for him. He never truly talked about his master and what he had to go through under his rule, but whatever he decided to share with you should've concidered more carefuly when coming up with ways of pleasing him. You should've known he was trying to manipulate you, just like you were him.

"I also have something to confess to," you took a deep breath. "I never wanted to sleep with you. I only did that becuase you would've left otherwise."

"Wha-" he took a step back, bewildered. "What are you saying?"

"I never wanted to do it with you. After you asked me the first time and I rejected you I noticed how Karlach grew to like you and I thought you would've left if someone didn't fulfill your needs. Since nobody really liked you back then, well aside from me and Karlach, and you only ever asked me I felt like I had to. You would've left otherwise and Karlach would be sad to see you go. Me too in a way... It is quite funny if you think about it," you chuckled a bit.

"Funny? In what universe is this funny?" He said with a slight anger in his voice.

"Just think," you tried to explain, "you manipulated me and at the same time I was kind of manipulating you back. You were right, this group really is full of wierdoes."

He didn't share the same humor as you. What was on his face was a mix of anger, disgust and horror. But he quickly hid those feelings away. "Well, seems like we are truly fated to be together then. If you'll have me that is."

You smiled up at him. The past is past now, you only focused on the fact that he grew to truly care about you, despite his plans. "Of course I will Astarion. But I do have a request."

"Anything, my dear."

You smiled at the pet name. Many people gave you cute or silly nicknames but this was the first that felt genuine. "No sex. For now at least. Please?"

He nodded. "Even though it would almost be a challenge, I would greatly appreciate it as well."

You smiled at eachother like two idiots in love, which you believed you were. Two broken people as well, but now you have eachother.

"I also have a request: no lying, no telling me what I want to hear. Only truth from now on," he said.

You agreed. He then extended his hand to you and you gladly took it. The feelings you held towards him from the first night you slept together still lingered but not as strongly as before. You could see the situation more clearly now. The world broke both of you in different ways, but together you could heal again.

That night you dreamed of what could be. After his master is defeated, after you're both freed from those worms. For the first time in your life you had someone by your side who wouldn't leave. And for the first time in your life you were excited for the future with him.

The same couldn't be said for Astarion that night. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing your face, your lovely innocent looking face, telling him how you forced yourself to be with him. You were even pure enough to find humour in that. Maybe that was the way you coped.

He felt disgusted in himself. What was supposed to be a romantic bonding moment, changing your lives for the better, became an ugly memory.

Night after night he talked with you, truly talked. Admitted to everything Cazador has did to him. He also pried out the truth from you, how you came to wearing hundreds of different masks for hundreds of different people. You were right in a way, it was a bit funny how similair the two of you were. But while he wore those masks to survive you wore them to not be alone. He understood regardless.

However, on the nights when his racing mind wouldn't slow down he saw all the pain and suffering he caused and now with your face added among them all in the worst way possible. Making you do as he asked, you not being able to decline. How was he any better than Cazador?

[writerastray]

thrills {Blood Rush}

General Masterlist - Blood Rush Masterlist - Read this before interacting

-> Word count: 3.1k

-> Relationships: Han Jisung/f!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

-> Genre/Tropes:Crime/Mafia AU, Romance, Mutual Pining, Romantic/Sexual Tension (Spoiler tags: Ex's to Lovers?)

-> Synopsis: Part 3 of Blood Rush - You swore you’d never see Han Jisung again. Your plan was to focus on your studies and enjoy your normal college life. However, one phone call changes everything, dragging you back into the chaos you tried to escape.

-> Warning tags: Physical Abuse, Weapons, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content (Oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, possessive!jisung, mutual masturbation, begging kink), Car Accident, Toxic Relationship. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

⚠︎ I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share it. This work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You felt anxious in the car. 

Even if the road was calm, the night was cool with the now-soft summer rain, the sound of the trees rustling, the warm breeze touching your hair, and the scent of moist earth comforting you.

Still something inside you warned you to run. Leave Jisung alone.  

The cops were undoubtedly looking for him in the traffic cameras, and here you are, by his side. You shouldn’t have come. 

It was hard to keep still, and you caught yourself fidgeting with your legs until Jisung's hands were in your thighs. The effect was immediate; the muscle loosened as he drew circles against your skin. He knew you too well.  

It was past midnight when Jisung called you.

The soft sheet was perfect against your skin, and you didn't want to go out in the winter.

Can you help me? He asked on the call. The first thought that crossed your mind was, What could have happened? and the next was, Should I get involved?

Whatever it was, it was not good. But how could you say no?

The strong cold wind enveloped you as soon as you were outside, and you were already regretting getting out of your bed when your gaze fell on Jisung.

He ran to you, a big smile, and drew you in for a kiss. You almost lost yourself in him, with his hand on your body, slow kiss, and soft tongue against yours. Almost. 

“What happened?” you ask, eyes roaming around every corner of his body, but he looked fine.

The streets were deserted, except for a few cars passing by and the convenience store down the block.

“I need to do a job tomorrow, but Hyunjin canceled with me, and I can't do it alone, and the others have their own things.” He exhaled and raised an eyebrow in a question. He was irresistible with his pleading gaze. You wanted to kiss him more.

“Fine. What do I have to do?”

And so he explained, and your heart raced with every word.

“You’re up to it?”

You knew your fate would change with that answer. You didn't hesitate. “Let’s do it.”

Want to keep reading? You can check it out on my AO3—just click this link to continue: thrills🖤

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Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2025 by Writerastray.

[mrsbluehands]

One letter at a time - Hazbin Hotel

Headcanons (x reader)

Hazbin Hotel

SFW Alphabet (A, E, G, M, P)

Hello! School has been killing me lately and i kind of forgot about writing for a while. Please forgive me T-T

Anyways enjoy this little piece of writing i did in class hehehe (i should try to pay attention sometimes) I didn’t write the letters in order. I went with the inspiration, so it might be a little chaotic, my bad.

Please forgive my mistakes…I’m still trying to improve.

Tw: Little suggestive themes

Characters: Lucifer, Alastor, Angel

Pronouns: Gn

-

Argument

Lucifer

You two rarely get into arguments. Lucifer is absolutely not the type to let some heated conversation you have, turn into one.

He hates yelling and, getting yelled at by you, brings tears to his eyes Even if he'll never admit it out loud, his emotions are all over the place when it comes to you.

He might have the bad habit to let you win any kind of disagreements you two can get in. The fear of losing you like he lost his first love being too much to bear.

If, he can't do anything and you both end up having a real fight, he'll give you time to yourself if you need, but please don't give him the silent treatment, you'll just end up crushing him.

Once you finally make up, he’s all over you! Getting all sweet and affectionate and spending as much time as he can with you.

Alastor

Alastor never looses his cool, even if you throw insults his way, or at least, he'll never show you that it's making his ego falter. After all, you're the only one that can crack his cold heart.

He might even like seeing you so worked up. It gives him a sense of power, seeing that he can affect you so much with a few words.

But if you start to cry, it'll tug on his heartstrings. That's when he realises he went too far.

Still, he'll never admit making a mistake and will simply give you a hug if you let him, comforting you by brushing off his comments as "teasing".

But if you keep sulking, you might earn a kiss from him. A rare kiss he will only offer you on special occasions. So you might need to enjoy it while it lasts!

Angel

If it’s a real argument, the kind where you shoot insults you don’t really mean, he usually gets very emotional. I can imagine him tearing up when he’s angry. He hates it.

When you two fight, it’s never over some silly little thing. It’s about something that you or he deeply cares about.

After, he will quickly feel awfully guilty for whatever he told you without thinking. You can be sure he’ll reach out to you first.

Maybe by leaving you a sweet note or text to apologize, he knows you love each other too much for a simple disagreement to ruin what you built together.

He most likely will apologize even if it wasn’t his fault. He’ll shower you with affection until you can’t do anything but melt and apologize as well.

Embarrassment

Lucifer

With him there's no in between. He's either a blushing mess or so confident you won't be able to keep your cool around him.

If he's in a depressed mood, any kind of compliments, signs of affections or physical touches will brighten his mood. You just have that effect on him. If you keep going, he'll get all soft and mushy.

You have to remind him that he deserves your attention and your compliments. He thinks you're so perfect that he is wondering how he can deserve you.

If he’s more in a confident mood, you’ll have trouble keeping up with his flirtatious remarks. He’ll be all over you, always keeping a hand (or a tail on you).

He cannot get enough of your own blushing face. It feeds his ego and heals his broken heart a little more every time.

Alastor

He simply cannot get embarrassed. The best you'll get from him will be surprise, or confusion, but never shyness when you try to flirt with him.

I'm convinced this man cannot blush, or will never allow himself to.

As much as he loves you, his affection toward you is the only weakness he's allowing himself to have. He won’t show much of anything when you two are in public.

BUT, you can be sure that he will try to do anything possible to fluster you somehow when in a more private setting.

Like by suddenly throwing a compliment your way, or leaving a kiss on your cheek or forehead without any warning.

He much rather like to see you embarrassed you than to get embarrassed!

Angel

I feel like Angel is easier to fluster than we might think. At first, he looks like the kind of man whose confidence will falter at nothing.

But deep down, critiques and insults will always leave a mark on his heart.

It’s nothing that you can’t heal. With kisses, hugs and sweet words, Angel will become putty in your hands.

If you want to melt his heart and see his cheeks all red, you simply have to reassure him a little about how he’s special in your eyes.

No matter how many times he can hear these shallow words all day, of course, in his eyes, you’ll always be the only one whose words matters.

Gift

Lucifer

He isn’t the kind to give out gifts as often as Alastor, but will always make sure to give you a little something on special occasions.

He's more the type to give you small, but thoughtful gifts rather than anything luxurious. It’ll surely be something he made himself, or something that reminds him of you in some way.

He wants nothing more than to make you happy.

With this guy, looking at you with his wide, hopeful eyes once he's given you something, it's impossible for your heart not to melt. Even if it's the tenth rubber duck he's been giving you.

Alastor

You want gifts? With him, you'll get so many gifts you won't know what to do with them. It's part of his love language after all.

He wants to be sure he's the only one who can make you happy by offering you exacly what you want.

As opposed to Lucifer, he won’t gift you very emotional things. What really makes him happy is to see your eyes light up when he hands you something you wanted.

He probably wouldn't admit it out loud, but his dead heart swells with pride when he sees your smile. He knows you're smiling because of what he does and that him and only him, can make you smile this way.

Angel

I'd say giving gifts isn't necessarily part of Angel's love language. He loves making you happy and seeing you smile, but maybe not by giving you an object.

He's way more the type to spend time with you, to go out somewhere, just you and him.

When the thought of giving you a gift would occur, it would most likely be for your birthday or on special occasions.

I think he would just love to gift you clothes that you would never think to buy for yourself. Nothing makes him more happy than to see you happy too.

Missing you

Lucifer

Oh, this guy, with his soft and mushy heart misses you dearly every time you're not by his side. Sorry if you're independent, you'll have trouble keeping up with him.

He'll clearly always find excuses to leave his boring meetings just to spend a bit more time with you. Nobody in his life can compare to you or can be more important.

If you have to be gone for a day or more, you won't be able to breathe once you get back home.

He'll be all over you, glued to your side for at least a day. He might need extras kisses so he'll allow you to go to the bathroom.

You’re the new light in his life. Please don’t let him slip into the darkness again.

Alastor

Al won't miss you the same time way Lucifer does. Oh don't fool yourself, he does miss you whenever you need to go out or help Charlie with chores, but he won't openly say it to you.

He'll patiently wait until you're back to the hotel, greeting you with maybe a larger smile than usual.

If you were gone for the day, he might even get a little more touchy with you. Wrapping an arm around you, holding your hand in his or hooking your arm under his.

Again, he’ll never admit it, and will blame it on his stupid animal instincts, but he might rub his head on yours…just to be sure you smell like him.

He has to make the others understand that even if you were away from him for a while, you’re still completely his.

Angel

I can imagine Angel in an ambiguous relationship with you. Or a secret one he has to hide from Val…and his fans. But you're his favourite fan so of course you're worth it ;)

He’s good at hiding it, but always misses you. I mean, at this point, you’re the most important thing in his life for hell’s sake.

He’ll send you a few texts during the day if you’re away from the hotel. Nothing too overwhelming. Just to know how you’re doing and if your day is going fine.

But when he’s at work, where he might not be able to text or call you that often, he definitely finds himself longing for you.

At the end of the day, he can’t wait to feel your sweet words and affection he’s just beginning to feel like he deserves.

Prepare to get attacked by a wave of affection when he comes back home. He’ll be glued to your side for the rest of the day…or night.

PSA

Lucifer

He likes it, but definitely does not use it like Angel or Alastor. He has a classic view of it. Loving how he feels like you two belong to each other whenever he’s holding your hand while walking.

I mean, who would complain about having the king of hell on their side, insisting to hold their hand?

He sticks to the basics, unless someone is purposely trying to hit on you. That’s when he might show his true colors a little more.

Whether or not you’re smaller or taller than him doesn’t matter, he will sneak an arm around your waist and pulls you closer.

Sometimes, his tail will wrap itself around your thigh, especially when he’s feeling playful. After all, he needs to tease to at least a little, right?

Alastor

Not a big fan of it, obviously, but he will definitely use it to show everyone you two walk by that you're his. That means keeping a hand on you all. the. time.

For some reason, he won't let you initiate it. He likes control and it shows even in the slightest of things, including physical contact.

His favorite thing is to kiss you on the forehead or on the top of your head. He loves feeling so tall compared to you.

Those kisses are the only ones he will allow if there's someone else in the room. You'll have to wait in the comfort of your room at night to get more of his kisses…

Angel

Huge fan of it, but that's mostly because he doesn’t see anything wrong with showing the rest of the world his affection toward his partner.

Of course it’ll be different if you two have some kind of secret relationship, but in that case, he’ll show you more of his affection in private.

Would be the kind to kiss the hell out of you to say goodbye and then leave you all flustered for the rest of the day.

He takes a certain pride in flustering you as much as he can, whether it be soft touches or by whispering things in your ear without warning.

But unlike Al, he'll probably end up doing what he claims the moment you two are alone.

He knows how soft he is and will gladly use it to his advantage.

Leaning down to rub his nose on your nape, holding you by the shoulder or the waist, sometimes sneaking a hand under the fabric. That’s his favourite love language.

[falling-star-cygnus]

Soul Eater DBD fic, now that i've actually fleshed out their weapon forms [here] and have some.. vague semblance of a plot.

SUMMARY: "He is a weapon, and I am a weapon. What do you suppose is going to happen if we enroll in that- poor excuse of an education establishment?" Edwin and Charles are two weapons on a time crunch to turn the former into a death scythe. Should Death catch them, they'll be separated and sorted off to different meisters. Should someone from the DWMA catch them... well.. it's not exactly safe for a kishin to be flouncing around with weapons looking for a power-up anyway, now is it?

ao3 fic: here chapter two: here as always, please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed!!! your hopefully dear author craves a chat over tea <3 <3 <3

The Beginning: A Bud Back in Bloom

Edwin was running. 

He didn’t know where, he didn’t know how, but there had to be somewhere. Some bloody break he could catch- or haven he could reach- before.. before that thing caught up.  Whatever reason he had been set free from- from the kishin, or whatever cosmic joke someone was playing on his life [his afterlife?] it would not go to waste.

He just had to- he had to..

The lights stretched and flickered behind him, into long spidery legs fit to drag him back to hell. 

Edwin ran. 

Something was wrong with his soul. And his other form too- he thinks- he knows? 

It’s unreachable to him at this moment, his other half, perhaps lost forever as penance for taking his fleshy- weak, weak, it’s far too weak- body back.

That's.. well- that's not ideal. In different circumstances it would certainly be heartbreaking- to a lose a part of himself so vital. And that will most likely hit him later, when he's done running for his new lease on life.

Right now, it's just an annoyance.

Edwin would be the first to admit his lack of physical prowess- his delicate frame was one of the many reasons his bullies targeted him- but he wasn't incapable.

Not as a sabre. Never as a sabre, he assumes. Though that was a rather small pool to gather data from too.

Resonance was tricky when you spend so long in [somewhat self-imposed] isolation.

But apparently unwilling absorption was not.

He can still feel those boys' hands on his arms, the itchy cloth on his wrists and their laughs and chants of "Mary-Ann, Mary-Ann" as they shoved him forward.

Minor kishin, apparently. A joke for a weapon of his caliber.

MINOR HIS ASS.

Sa'al might've been- maybe- but the witch he'd been traded to had not. Nor had the kishin he'd been fed to.

Edwin can feel his feet begin to shred on stone tiles, can feel the moon boring down on him with it's big bloody grin [literally bloody- this time] from it's low hang in the starless sky.

And it feels so real. Painfully, amazingly, terribly, beautifully real.

He's not just his soul anymore. Not set loose and chased and torn apart and stitched anew but alive.

It tears a laugh out of him.

Hysterical- delirious- perhaps. Yes.

The lights flicker again.

Edwin runs, and runs, and runs until the sun comes up- until the bones of his feet are clacking on the old wood of some dusty bookshop's attic.

And he laughs.

Finally, the weapon [former weapon? new kishin?] thinks to himself, watching his hell skitter past from the safe side of the window- away from the rising sun's laugh, finally..

I'm free.

._._._._.

But there was still something wrong with his soul.

Days later, maybe closer to a week and a half if he's generous, Edwin finds himself clothed in soft, comfortable clothes. A courtesy of the sweet book shop's owner, despite the floors he had dirtied with blood and bits of flesh.

They're not particularly modern- not from what he's seen on the people who walk by the quaint, slightly yellow windows- but perhaps that's what makes them so appealing to him.

Seventy years, he'd been told. Edwin spent seventy years playing cat and mouse with that kishin.

Compared to that, this temporary haven he's found among old pages is.. charming.

And the bookshop owner, a softer man with a veritable cloud of white hair atop his head, is equally so. Mr. Fell, as he had requested to be called.

Perhaps a bit too soft a man, considering he's letting... whatever it is that Edwin now was stay in his attic.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like." he'd said, "for you will be safe here as long as you wish."

Cryptic words, admittedly, but none less true. So far, at least. Hopefully for as long as he dared to push his luck.

And, occasionally, a boy with a mop of curly hair would wander in while Edwin hid busied himself in a corner.

He looked almost devastatingly handsome- though loud and bright and athletic, if a bit too lean around the middle.

A bit too much like the type to terrorize people like Edwin.

The boy was always polite to Mr. Fell, however, and treated the old books much the same whenever he came by. And when his eyes, so large and soft like that of a woodland creature, landed upon the Edwardian [or so he learned his era of time was called] he had offered a wave.

Edwin pretended not to notice- pretended his ears didn't burn red at being caught ogling.

To his credit, mystery boy had taken it in stride and not attempted to start up a conversation. Though perhaps he would have, had the sun not been sobbing itself to sleep.

Most intriguing.. it had not so much as frowned in these past eleven cycles.

The next time the sun blessed boy had come in, around 16 hours later, he was sporting a bruise upon his cheek and limp in his gait.

Edwin didn't see him again after that.

What he did start to see were spiders.

Lots.

And lots.

Of spiders.

Maybe they had always been there, lurking when he wasn't looking, but now that there wasn't something better to focus on- well... they were everywhere.

Not the same breed, nor size, but the same thing. Dreadful, little, 8-legged fuc-

"Edwin?"

The boy straightens, turns towards the door, "Yes, Mr. Fell?"

stmmp.

It scurries back into the shadows.

"I'm heading out for the night," the kind man says, coat neatly strewn over his shoulders, "Will you be alright?"

"As I always am, Mr. Fell."

While the words themself might sound curt, at least in this day and age, Mr. Fell simply nods at him gently- his smile as genuine as ever- and takes his leave.

Quiet falls over the brittle pages.

And then the scurrying starts back up.

One little menace, oh so bold, is brazen enough to crawl it's way up to his elbow- to raise one leg to his covered inner arm.

thud.

But this borrowed armchair is not a waterspout.

And he will not tolerate this taunting.

Edwin's anger brews and snarls into something truly ugly, something that makes this quaint little refuge look coated in sickly green, and makes the shadows look like long grasping legs.

"Leave. Me. Alone," he hisses, to the now quivering little arachnid.

Though his weapon form remains unreachable to him, even now, the delicate exoskeleton of a scared spider is hardly a match for the souls of his boot. Nor the curve of his gloved fist.

So they do- they scurry back into whatever hidey-hells they'd crawled out of. But it's not enough to calm whatever's biting at his core- demanding to be let out and seen and listened to. No, it only grows more feral.

He wants them to perish. To never show their beady eyed faces to him again.

His skin feels like it's tearing in the open along his brow- as the figures in this haunted book shop grow sharper and more distinct- as his anger grows.

How dare these little things feel any right-

CRASH!

Edwin blinks and goes very, very still.

The sickly green light fades away like water over a fire- like a blanket over a lamp. It's quiet. Just the lantern beside him, and the wind outside.

And the shuffling of heavy limbs.

Whatever's making that noise is above him- in the attic.

So, like anyone would when staying somewhere for practically no cost, he stands up. He takes the lantern from the table beside him.

And he ventures up the staircase.

Where he finds the boy the sun wept for- shivering, cold, and wet.

"Wh-who's there?" his teeth click together, nearly biting into his too heavy tongue.

Something unfurls, something soft, in Edwin's chest. He should've suspected as much. In the... now 25 days he's been free, there was nothing in this store that would harm him.

Those woodland eyes lock onto his own mossy ones- with just the barest hint of foggy recognition.

"You're the boy from before.." he chatters out, so so very softly, "What do you want?"

He almost resembles the chortling moon now.. Edwin thinks to himself, as he takes in the sickly pallor of the once warm-toned other. Who was valiantly trying to put up a defiant front.

He sort of just looked like a puppy left in the rain..

"You're the boy with the bruise on his cheek," the Edwardian parrots back at him, taking careful steps forward to gently set the lantern down closer, "Here.. this should offer you at least a little more warmth."

The sun knighted boy winces, "You saw that, did you?"

"I did," he admits, "Though I apologize for not returning your greeting. Rest assured..."

There was nothing in this bookshop that could hurt him anymore- not spiders, not things that go bump in the night, nor any other bedtime story told to misbehaving children.

"I shan't hurt you."

And there was nothing that would hurt this boy now, either. Not while Edwin was here.