#which is something I would've never discovered on my own

[irafook]

It's my bday and I'm accepting reading recommendations as gifts

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Books, manga, comics, webnovels, danmeis, webcomics, fanfics, please recommend whatever you think I might enjoy reading ♡

[temis-de-leon]

Pick me girls and OM! Brothers - Part 2

Characters: Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Part 1 - Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 3 - Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, one of these girls is actually really stupid, suggestive, mentions of sex between the brothers and mc, mentions of violence, a bit of magic, mentions of cheating (not actual cheating), nightmares, implied death, jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, still ooc but i had even more fun

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Satan

Your boyfriend looked more offended than you ever had the chance to feel.

The cashier at the bookstore barely had the time to say anything about her supposed romance with the demon before he appeared in his signature pose: a hand in his hip and the other one over his chest.

He had been a regular for years and you didn't know if the girl had been delusional enough to believe she had something with him or if she was just jealous and wanted to make you feel bad.

You weren't sure which one was sadder.

"Am I hearing this correctly?" he said with spite, distracting you from your own thoughts "Are you so daft you were considering me reciprocating your feelings?"

The girl lowered her gaze, clearly embarrassed, and for a moment you felt guilty. Maybe she really thought she had something mutual going on with Satan; a crush that went too far in her own imagination.

She proved you wrong, however, when not only did she give you a side eye, but also said the most stupidest thing one could ever muster.

"Well, obviously you are so daft you chose them over me"

You couldn't waste time on feeling hurt; not when Satan was showing his fangs, letting his tail scratch the floor as it lashed behind him. As hot as he looked like this, it was not the moment nor the place to show his demon form in a fit of rage.

The stupid cashier seemed proud of getting a reaction out of him, finally catching his attention. Maybe she was a demon of wrath too? Maybe that's how she flirted with other demons?

The poor thing would be lucky if she ever lived to see another day.

Let her discover that fact on her own.

"She's not worth it, Satan" you urged, pushing him to the door "Let's go to that cat cafe you mentioned earlier. You said they had new kittens, right?"

That seemed to do the trick.

He looked at you with love, still mixed with anger and bewilderment, but not enough for you not to hold his hand and lean against him.

"I'm sorry, my dear" he murmured, then he spoke louder "Do not believe a word she said"

"I would never"

"Good"

He nodded to himself, like the idea of you believing the cashier was too stupid to even consider it, but neither of you could ignore how his hand stiffened in yours for a second.

"Let's go see some kittens" you said in a singing voice, leading him in the street towards your destination.

You failed to see the adoration in his eyes.

Asmo

This succubus dated Asmo long before you were even an idea in your parents' minds and she wanted you to keep that in mind.

She wanted you to know that everything you knew, she knew better (a blatant lie) and that Asmo preferred experience over novelty (ew).

"I remember the times we went to the sauna and... Oh, sorry, does he take you to the sauna?"

"He invited me a couple of times, yes" but I had to say no or else I would've boiled alive.

"And does he...?"

Does he. Does he. Does he.

He does. HE DOES. HE DEFINITELY DOES.

In which moment did you think going to The Fall was a better plan than doing each other's skincare routine while making fun of 50 shades of Grey?

The both of you could be criticizing that poor excuse of BDSM right now (before recreating the correct version), but, instead, Asmo was ordering the girliest cocktail ever made while this Camila Cabello wannabe harassed you.

"...that was a little joke between us"

Lord Diavolo she just kept going.

"I'm so happy you remember so well your past relationship with him" you intervened with a strain in your voice, "but maybe it's time for you to stop and leave"

The succubus smirked with a smugness that made your innards burn from the inside out.

"Don't get jealous! I'm sure he loves you too"

Oh my Lord.

The lion, the witch and the audacity of this bitch.

"Hon', look at this!"

There he came, your savior, dressed in a skimpy dress with hands full of shimmery drinks and a glint in his very beautiful loving eyes.

"They didn't have human beverages, but I swear the taste is impeccable, you'll love it! Just let me take a picture for Devilgram first"

Camila Cabello, as you had finally decided to call her, cleared her throat in search of the demon's attention. Asmodeus looked in her direction, obviously trying to remember who she was.

"Asmo, baby!" she was nothing but a smile full teeth and a mission. Her gaze a little desperate "Remember me?"

Her determination died, however, when Asmo's expression turned shocked after studying her. He grasped his chest in sorrow as he asked the funniest question you could hear at the moment.

"What are you wearing?"

Camila Cabello was finally at a loss of words and you briefly wondered if this had ever happened to her.

"If you're gonna meddle in my relationship with MC at least take effort in looking decent"

His expression was sweet, saccharine, but there was an underlying seriousness in his voice.

He was so beautiful. And he was all yours.

Beel

She was one of the boys, apparently. Beel had definitely never mentioned her, but the girl only laughed when you told her that.

"Wow, controlling much? Does he have to tell you about every friend?"

Well, no, Beel didn't have to inform you about everyone he's ever met, but your boyfriend was sweet enough to want you in every aspect of his life, thus introducing you to his friends, his teammates and even his gym bros.

Definitely not to this girl.

You looked at her in disbelief, licking your teeth with a calculating glance. How much would Beel care if you hit this airhead with a dumbbell?

"We hang out together almost every day" she boasted, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger "It's not even weird for me to be in the boys locker room"

Were you strong enough to throw a dumbbell?

Surely she'd rather be with them instead of you if she was 'one of the boys', no? Why would she be in the bleachers with you, waiting for the team to finish their training, when she could be in any other part of the field doing exercise or playing for another sport?

"I'm not making you insecure, am I?" asked the girl in poorly faked innocence "If he loves you so much you should have nothing to worry about"

"Oh, I trust him" you assured her, but you didn't sound as confident as you wanted to. Although Beel never gave you any reasons to doubt him, it was difficult to defend your relationship when this girl was so convinced everyone was in love with her.

"That's so cool"

You decided to ignore her and her mocking tone, hoping to end the conversation right there, but she just kept talking. It was obvious she wanted to get under your skin.

For what? you wondered. Did she expect Beel to leave you if she batted her lashes fast enough? Did she know Beel at all??

"Oh, Beely!"

You cringed with a scowl visible to everyone around you. Some of Beel's teammates laughed at your missfortune, while the others, the ones you liked best, turned around in horror and left without a second glance.

Wether he was oblivious or just didn't care, Beel wasted no time in running towards you with a smile on his face.

"Did you see me?" he asked, looking up to you with a boyish grin and brightened eyes.

"I'm always looking at you"

Beel blushed, his smile still obvious in his face, but he couldn't get another word in before the girl talked again.

"I was looking at you too"

You rolled your eyes and Beel immediately stared at you with a curious glance. He hummed in response, ignoring her once again as he reached out for your hand to caress your knuckles.

"There's a new limited edition menu in a restaurant near RAD"

No questions added nor needed. You smiled at him and nodded, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it. A promise for later.

"Noo, we used to go there so much..."

"Can you stop?" Beel interrupted her with a deadpan expression "You're making MC uncomfortable"

The girl looked at him in surprise, mouth wide open, clearly not expecting to be snapped at.

She didn't dare to look at you after that.

Belphie

It wasn't the first time you dreamt about this girl and it wasn't the first time you dreamt about her stealing your sloth of a boyfriend.

She wasn't some mystery girl, but rather Belphie's old seatmate, the one he had before you were kidnapped admitted in RAD. A quiet doe-eyed succubus that looked at him like he was the best thing that ever happened to both human and demon mankind.

She'd tried to sit next to him a couple of times with no avail, always getting rejected in your favor. Then, Belphie and you started dating and she stopped trying. You'd innocently thought she'd surrendered.

But not only did she search for him the very few times you guys weren't next to each other, she also ignored you completely when you were there.

Ignoring her back was easier said than done.

And this time, the oniric version of her wasn't just stealing your boyfriend. This time, he was willingly going to her, making your heart hurt so much it made you wake up with what felt like broken ribs.

It took you a couple of minutes to pull yourself together and not push Belphie away when he brought you back to his chest. The image of him kissing her while looking at you was engraved in your mind.

So, although sweating and hurting both from your heart and your confidence, you forced yourself to sleep.

You didn't notice just how awake Belphie was.

Back when you were still friends, you had allowed him to introduce himself into your slumber each time you had a nightmare. Images of you dying under the jaws and claws of faceless demons disappeared faster when the real Belphie was there. Ironic, isn't it?

He tried to stop every single one of them, but sometimes he was so deep in his own dreams it was proved to be impossible.

You thought this was one of those occasions, but, alas, you were wrong.

Days passed without any new event and Belphie mentioned nothing about your initial irrational coldness towards him, which made you feel a tiny bit better. Eventually you'd get so embarrassed about the situation that you had no other option but to dote on him like the brat he was, leading to a whole weekend sprawled over his bed in the attic.

The girl was still there, although not as persistent with Belphie, and she avoided you like the plague, with fright in her eyes.

So he did something about her, didn't he? But how did he know? And what did he do? You wanted to ask, curious as ever, but as time went by and the eyebags under her eyes started to occupy her entire face, you decided against it.

Barely a month later she disappeared without leaving trace. And since Belphie didn't even acknowledge her at all, why would you?

Tagging a little more: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae

[sematarygirls]

        COWBOY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ oral (m! receiving), reader is kinda sheltered, mommy issues, parental death, running away from home, getting picked up by a handsome stranger

NOTES .ᐟ this was pretty fun to write tbh. i started this like a year ago and recently found it in my drafts, which led me here, so i hope yall enjoy it as much as i do.

Your worn cowboy boots thudded against the asphalt as you walked down the deserted country road, dragging your suitcase along. The summer sun shone brightly overhead, heating the atmosphere and causing a thin layer of sweat to coat your body. Your daddy's old cowboy hat sat atop your head, shielding your face from the sun's unrelenting, unforgiving rays. A loose white sundress swished softly with every step you took, slowly making your way farther and farther from your old life.

The death of your beloved father sent your already troubled mother into a state of disrepair. You watched as the mother that had sung you soft lullabies and stayed with you until you fell asleep transformed into someone you didn't recognize.

Most nights, you weren't sure where she was or if she was even alive until she inevitably came stumbling home in a drunken stupor through the front door of your little farmhouse in bumfuck nowhere, the screen door slamming behind her and startling you awake.

On the rare occasion that you saw her, she seemed to look through you. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath them that greatly contrasted how bright and full of life they once had been. She was a shell of the woman she once was.

You tried your best to be there for her, but eventually, you realized that she wasn't going to change. She didn't want to get better, and you couldn't force her to.

On your eighteenth birthday, you made a difficult decision. You had been weighing it for a long time, wondering if you were doing the right thing. You wondered if your dad would be disappointed in you, if he would've wanted you to stay, but eventually, you knew that you had to do what was best for you.

You couldn't handle the constant worrying, only to be greeted with a cold shoulder the few times you did see your mother. You felt like you'd never have a life of your own in that house, suffocated by the memories of the happy family that once lived within the walls. You needed to start fresh—to give yourself the opportunity to be something more than a small town drunk like your mom.

You were leaving, and you were never coming back.

And for the first time in a long time, you had something to look forward to. You had a future that didn't revolve around taking care of someone else. You had hope that you could find something better out there, something more than this lonely life you'd grown so accustomed to.

You grabbed an old suitcase from the basement and threw it onto your bed. Opening it, your heart ached as you saw your name written in black sharpie on the light brown fabric. It was written in your father's handwriting, little doodles of stars and hearts surrounding it. For a moment, you had second thoughts about your decision, but ultimately, you pushed them away. you knew he would've wanted you to live a life worth something. He wouldn't want you to be confined to this house, worrying whether your mother would make it home every night.

You packed an assortment of clothing and little items that held sentimental value to you. You knew you had to choose carefully because there was only so much you could bring. Rifling around in your closet, you discovered your father's old cowboy hat. You stuffed it into the way back the day of his funeral, never wanting to see it again, but now, you knew you needed it more than ever.

It served as a reminder of home—not the house you were running away from, but the home that had once been filled with life and love. It reminded you of cold winter nights spent huddled by the fire and spooky stories told during thunderstorms. It reminded you of dancing in the kitchen while the three of you prepared dinner and listening to the rock station with a popsicle in hand as you curiously watched your dad work on his truck. It reminded you of a time before forehead kisses and goodnight stories were replaced by slamming screen doors and absent mothers.

You placed the hat atop your packed suitcase and went to sleep, your plan for tomorrow already set in motion. You woke up before your mother, quickly getting dressed and gathering your things before creeping into the living room. She was nowhere to be seen, probably having actually made it to her bedroom that night, but her purse was laying on the kitchen counter, a couple items spilling out from the way she had haphazardly thrown it when she got home.

Careful to not make any noise, you rummaged through, looking for her wallet. You didn't expect to find much, but you would take what you could get. After stuffing the cash you could find into your bra, so in the event that your suitcase was stolen, you'd still have something to your name, you took one last look around. You admired the height markings your father had made on the doorway, and the hole in the wall that he always swore he'd get around to fixing after bringing in a new couch went terribly wrong. A sad smile graced your face as you said goodbye to the place that had been your only home for as long as you'd known, turning the page and getting ready to embark on your journey to a new life.

Walking through the front door with your suitcase trailing behind you was like a weight had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you didn't know what would happen next, and it frightened you in a way that was exhilarating.

The sound of a car approaching made you jump a little, the sound cutting through the quiet atmosphere that had previously only been filled with the light swishing of your dress, the sound of your suitcase wheels and boots on the asphalt, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was rare to encounter people on the deserted road you were traveling down since the area you were in was secluded and a good few miles from any houses or towns, so you knew to be cautious.

You turned your head, tilting the cowboy hat up to get a better look at the approaching vehicle and it's driver. It was an old grey-blue pickup truck with a white roof, a thin layer of dirt and grime built up along the exterior. You squinted your eyes to try and get a better look at the driver as they got closer, but the glare from the sun on the windshield hindered your view.

Hesitantly, you looked away from the truck, your gaze returning forward as you waited for it to pass, but to your surprise, it didn't. You clutched your suitcase tighter as the man pulled up beside you, not stopping completely, just rolling along to keep pace with you.

When the driver rolled the window down, you turned your head to face him, continuing to walk as you studied his face. He was a handsome man; you couldn't deny that. He had bright blue eyes that shone with intrigue, his pale pink lips pulled up into a smirk that had you torn between being deeply unsettled and utterly smitten for him. His brown hair was buzzed short, and he had a bit of stubble on his chiseled jawline along with a mustache on his upper lip—something you usually wouldn't have been privy to, but he made it look effortlessly good.

"What's a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?" He asked with the faintest hint of a southern drawl, looking you up and down. It should have disgusted you—a random man hitting on you in the middle of nowhere—but for some reason, it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You debated on what to say. At first, you were gonna say that your mama always told you not to talk to strangers, but that sounded so childish that you immediately pushed it away. You weren't really great at talking to people. You'd often spent more time alone than with others. You simply shrugged, deciding against saying anything at all and making yourself sound foolish.

His gaze darted to your suitcase, finding himself intrigued and undeterred by your lack of an answer. "Where you headed, sweetheart?" He asked, continuing to drive beside you.

Truthfully, you didn't have a destination. You were just sorta planning to go wherever the wind took you, which admittedly, wasn't a very solid plan. "Anywhere but here," you said cryptically. It sounded a bit cheesy, but it was true. You just wanted to put as much distance between yourself and your childhood home as you possibly could.

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin as he leaned across the seat to throw open the passenger door. "Well, climb on in then. I can take you wherever you'd like to go," he offered, eyes glinting mischievously.

You didn't notice this, however. You weren't all that great at reading people due to your sheltered upbringing. You had gone to school, but it was a small one that you'd dropped out of at sixteen to try and take care of your mother.

You looked over at him, your eyes filled with hesitance as you nervously chewed your lip. You may have been a little naive, but you weren't completely stupid. You knew how unsafe it could be to catch a ride from a stranger. "That's awful kind of you, but... well, I don't think I should."

His demeanor didn't falter, an air of confidence surrounding him—like he was used to getting what he wanted, even if it took a little convincing. "I get it, darlin'," he nodded understandingly. "A pretty thing like you can't be too careful nowadays, but I promise you I ain't gonna hurt ya. Can't say the same for others, though."

Your eyes widened a bit at his words, and for the first time, you seemed to be able to look past your rose-colored glasses. You were a young woman walking alone in the middle of nowhere—an easy and vulnerable target to anyone that could have wanted to hurt you.

"Look, I ain't tryna scare ya," he said, seeming to notice the fear that his words had ignited within you. "But... well, there's a whole lotta bad people out here, sweetheart. I'd hate to go home and find that pretty face on the news or somethin'."

"Well, how do I know that you ain't some serial killer?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow. You stopped walking to face him fully, to which he abruptly stepped on the breaks.

"Serial killers don't usually offer their victim's rides now do they?" He grinned wolfishly, leaning back and draping his arm over the passenger's seat. "I reckon they usually take by force, but I s'pose I wouldn't know since I ain't one."

A frown tugged at your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in thought for a moment. "I guess you're right..." You didn't really know much about serial killers either if you were being honest. Well, not enough to know how they rounded up their victims anyway.

He grinned wider, as if he could tell that you were doubting yourself, and he found it amusing. "So, how 'bout it then? You gonna get in?"

"Promise you ain't gonna like kidnap me or somethin'?" You asked softly, apparently trusting that he would tell the truth.

His grin softened into a warm smile, and he chuckled lowly as he brought his free hand up to place over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

You nodded, seeming to accept this as an accurate description of his intentions or rather, lack thereof. You picked up your suitcase and put it into his truck bed, all the while he watched you intently, his gaze lingering on the tantalizing view of thigh that your dress provided.

You climbed into the passenger's seat, pulling the cowboy hat off your head and placing it on the dash before closing the door and buckling yourself in. You weren't really sure where this handsome stranger was going to take you, and that's when it dawned on you that you had gotten into his car without even knowing his name.

You looked over at him, finding him already staring intently at you. You offered a shy smile, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you softly told him your name.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his deep southern drawl causing your name to roll off his tongue with a warmth akin to the way the summer sun had heated your skin. He put the truck in gear, the engine purring as he continued down the desolate highway. "Name's Rafe," he introduced himself, his gaze darting to you.

"The pleasure's all mine Mr. Rafe," you said politely. The man was not that much older than you—maybe two or three years—and thus was probably nowhere near old enough to regard as Mr, but you were taught that it was respectful to do so.

He grinned at the title, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "Just Rafe's fine, darlin'," he insisted, casting you a sideways glance, his gaze lingering on your lips as you smiled shyly.

"Okay," you nodded, looking down at your lap as you fiddled with your dress. Rafe was awfully handsome, the hottest guy you'd ever seen by a longshot—not that that was a huge feat—and you found yourself extremely nervous with the fact that you were alone with him.

"So, what are you doin' out here all alone?" He asked, casting you a questioning glance as he took his eyes off the road briefly. "You didn't say earlier." His gaze fell to your lap, watching as your fingertips brushed the edge of your dress repeatedly, the fabric having ridden up due to your sitting position and revealed even more of your soft looking thighs.

You shrugged in response, just as you had earlier. You didn't really know how to explain your situation, and you hardly wanted to trauma dump on someone you barely knew, especially when you'd be in such close quarters for God knows how long. "I'm just... travelin'."

"Travelin'?" He echoed curiously, quirking an eyebrow. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his gaze dropped to your thighs once more, the fabric of your dress inching up even more as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. He knew he shouldve been focused on the road and not his pretty passenger, but you were making it hard—in more ways than one. "What's got you on the road by yourself?"

"It's a long story," you mumbled, looking up and casting your gaze out the window, watching the scenery blur by as he did 80 on the interstate.

He hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically as he looked back at the road. "You runnin' from somethin', sugar?" He asked curiously, your evasive nature leading him to believe that there was more to the story.

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your dress, something your father would have scolded for being unladylike. Your gaze darted to the cowboy hat on the dash as you spoke. "More like runnin' toward somethin'."

"Toward?" He asked curiously. "So, where you headed then?" He prompted, his fingers stilling their movements as he looked over at you again, trying to read your expression.

A smile pulled at your lips as you turned to him, your eyes locking for a moment. "It's more of a... metaphorical somethin'."

His eyebrows raised, intrigued by your cryptic response. Everything about you seemed to intrigue him. You were one big mystery wrapped up in just about the prettiest package he'd ever seen. "Metaphorical, huh?"

"Yknow, you got this tendency to just repeat what I say back to me in question form," you grinned, your tone slightly teasing as you settled more comfortably into conversation with the man. You examined his side profile carefully as he turned back to the road.

"And you got a tendency to talk in circles," he replied with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking back to you briefly before returning to the road. He liked looking at you, even if for a brief moment.

You thought for a moment, deciding that perhaps Rafe deserved a bit of an explanation, given that he was nice enough to give you a ride and all. "I ain't going nowhere specific," you shrugged, your eyes finding the cowboy hat again. "Just... looking for somethin' bigger, somethin' better, I s'pose."

"Bigger and better than what?" He prompted, casting another sideways glance at you. His gaze lingered on the way your lips parted as you spoke, feeling himself twitch in his jeans. He was a man that liked understanding things. He didn't like being on the outside looking in. He wanted to know everything. He was curious; it was in his nature.

"The life I had before," you said, your tone growing solemn, gaze never wavering from the worn cowboy hat as memories flashed before you.

He noted your shift in demeanor and the way you were staring at the hat like you were willing it to turn into something. "What's the deal with that?" He asked, feeling like he needed to know.

"It was my daddy's old hat," you smiled reverently. "He um- he died a couple years back," you explained, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, sugar," he said sympathetically. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but he wanted to try. He took one hand off the wheel, placing it atop one of yours on your lap, and as much as it was not the time, he couldn't help the way his dick hardened further at the feeling of your soft skin under his rough, calloused hand.

"'s fine," you felt your cheeks warm at the feeling of his large, warm hand on yours. Despite yourself and the topic of conversation, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

He left his hand there, feeling a bit like he was taking advantage of the situation but unable to pull himself away. He liked the way your lips parted and your eyes widened ever so slightly when he touched you. "So you're both runnin' toward and away from somethin' then?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," you nodded. He reluctantly pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, readjusting himself in his seat to find a more comfortable position for his hard-on. You found yourself missing his touch, his skin leaving a lingering sensation on yours.

He was hyper-aware of every little movement and sound you made. The way you shifted in your seat, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs pressed together. He swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the road, his jaw clenching as he tried to get a handle on his body's reaction to you.

"So, what about you?" You prompted, glancing over at him. You had told him a bit about yourself and thought it only fair you got some information in return.

"Me?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff. He cleared his throat, trying not to let his gaze wander to the way your dress's neckline dipped, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your chest. "Well, I'm headin' home. I've been away for a couple months, workin' on a ranch up north." He said, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he continued to drive.

You hummed in acknowledgement. "Did you like it?" You asked awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say. You weren't awfully good at carrying conversations.

"It was alright. Good money, good people, but it ain't home." He said with a small shrug. "'Sides, I got a lot of responsibilities back home. Family 'n all that. Couldn't stay away forever."

You nodded, listening to him explain. You were a little intrigued. You'd never been anywhere outside your home town. You yearned to travel, to see what the world—or at very least the country—had to offer beyond small town gossip and local church services.

He glanced at you, wondering what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to know more about you, wanted to know everything. He wanted to know what you were planning to do now, why you'd actually run from home, what you tasted like, how you'd sound moaning his name, how tight you'd be wrapped around him.

You pondered your next steps during this beat of comfortable silence. You were starving, so food seemed like it needed to be the first stop on this little roadtrip of yours. Then, you figured you'd find a bus stop and hop on the first bus outta town, letting fate decide where to take you.

As you sat there lost in thought, he was watching you intently between bouts of watching the road. He noticed the way your gaze would occasionally drift out the window, the way your hands would fidget with the hem of your dress, the way your lips would purse slightly as you seemed to be debating something in your head.

"You can just drop me at the next town," you finally spoke up, turning to look back at him as you seemed to have made up your mind. A semblance of a plan was better than no plan at all. Besides, what would this new life be without a little of the unknown. You had no idea when you left that morning that you'd run into a handsome cowboy, and that had turned out to be incredibly thrilling for you.

He frowned at the prospect of you leaving him so soon. You'd only just met, but he found himself wanting to spend more time with you. "The next town?" He repeated, echoing your words back to you again like he'd done before. "And, what's the plan when you get there, huh, sweetheart?"

"Gonna catch a bus," you shrugged noncommittally. "Go wherever the wind takes me."

He let out a short, humorless laugh, clearly expressing his disproval for your so-called plan. "You ain't never been nowhere before, have you?" He asked, already knowing the answer. You seemed so innocent, so naive. He couldn't just let you wander off alone, could he?

"Well... no," a small frown tugged at your lips. "But that's kinda the whole point of goin' where the wind takes me," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "That's a fool-proof way to end up in some real trouble, you know. A pretty little thing like yourself, wanderin' 'round alone. You could end up anywhere, with anyone."

"Well, thus far, I've ended up here, with you," you pointed out with a small smile. "So, I'd say my plan is workin' pretty well so far."

"That's only 'cause I'm a gentleman," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to yours. You couldn't help but wonder what if he wasn't such a gentleman. You weren't completely naive. You knew about sex and had always wondered what it was like, and now, with this incredibly sexy man before you, you found your thoughts particularly impure.

He watched the way your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, the way your breathing picked up ever so slightly. He could practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours. "What're you thinkin' 'bout, sugar?"

"Oh, um, nothin'," you said softly, your body heating up as his voice, so low and husky—definitely not helping your situation—tore you from your thoughts.

"Nothin', huh?" He drawled, not believing you for a second. He had been with enough women to know that look on your face, and he was pretty sure he had a good idea of where your thoughts were headed.

You bit your lip nervously. You knew he had at least some attraction to you because you had eyes. You could see the bulge in his jeans but had done everything you could to resist staring at it, despite the growing urge to reach out and touch it. You wanted to see him, feel him, maybe even taste him, but you were completely out of your depth here.

"You're thinkin' 'bout somethin' that's makin' you bite your lip and press them pretty little thighs together," he said, his voice low and sultry. "So, why don't you just tell me what it is, hmm?"

You looked over at him, your eyes widened a bit at his forward words, also at the fact that he had noticed. Though, it wasn't exactly like you were being discrete. "Wh- I- well, it's not very ladylike," you replied sheepishly.

"Sugar, there ain't nothin' ladylike 'bout the way I'm feelin' right now either," he said, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest high up on your thigh.

You couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words, looking up at him through your lashes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know how to um- say it." You said, your heart beating nervously in your chest at a speed that doctors would probably find concerning.

"Then show me," he encouraged, his hand slowly inching higher up on your thigh. "You can do that, can't you? Show me what you were thinkin' about?"

You hesitated before nodding. You couldn't believe you were about to give a man you'd just met head for the first time in your life, but your body was moving quicker than your brain, unbuckling your seatbelt. You pulled your legs onto the seat underneath you, kneeling on the worn leather with your body facing him. You looked at him for confirmation before you made another move.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair encouragingly. "Go on, sugar. Show me what that pretty mouth can do." He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider to give you better access.

The lack of center console in the old truck was a blessing as your fingers fumbled with his belt. You were already nervous, and you knew you didn't have to tell him that you'd never done this before because it was written all over your face.

He watched with an amused smirk as you struggled with his belt for a moment. He found your inexperience endearing. After a beat, you finally managed to undo his belt, your shaky hands moving to his jeans, popping the button and unzipping them with much more ease.

"That's it, baby. You're doin' just fine," he encouraged, his voice strained with barely contained desire. His hips lifted slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You took in a sharp breath, your eyes widening a little. You'd seen one before but never in person and never quite that big.

"Wrap your hand around it, sugar," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. His hand tightened in your hair as you wrapped your hand around the base tentatively. "Just like that. Now, stroke it. Nice and slow." You followed his directions, slowly running your hand up and down his hard length, coaxing a low groan from his throat as his hips jumped just a little at the feeling of your soft hand on him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest and his grip on the wheel tightening. "Now, put that pretty mouth on me." You wrapped your lips around his hot tip, sucking gently and coaxing his precum onto your tongue.

"Mmmm... That's it, sugar. Just like that," he praised, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the truck in the correct lane. His hand guided your head, his hips gently bucking forward as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. "You're doin' so good, baby."

Your fingers flexed around the base of his cock, your grip tightening ever so slightly as yoy took more of him into your mouth, your brows furrowing in concentration while you did. "Relax your throat, baby. You can take more of me," he coached gently, his hand tightening in your hair. You did as he said, trying to relax and take more of him into your warm, wet mouth. "That's it, sugar."

The combined sounds of your heavy breathing mingled with the wet noises his cock was making as it slid in and out of your mouth. You gagged a little as the tip of his cock nudged your uvula, triggering your body's built-in safety feature against choking.

He felt you gag and knew he should have pulled you back, reassured you that you could go as slow as you needed to and that there was no need to rush, but shit, you felt so good and seemed so eager; he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He kept pushing forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. He could feel your throat constricting around his length, and it was the most incredible feeling. You whimpered around him, your nails digging into his thighs and eyes watering, but still, you didn't pull away.

Your little whimper only spurred him on, sending a vibration through him that had him moaning, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. "You're taking it so well, baby," he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. "Shit, I'm so close."

Not long after, his hips jerked forward, and he held you in place, his cock buried in your throat as he came hard with a groan, his hot cum shooting down your throat in thick, salty streams. The unfamiliar taste clung to your tongue, even after you forced the warm liquid down your throat and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart before he tucked himself back into his pants with one hand, his other keeping the truck steady. "You did so good, sugar. Real good." He murmured, his voice still husky from his orgasm.

You felt a wave of satisfaction roll over you at his praise, but you didn't know exactly what to do from here. Your plans hadn't changed just because you decided to expand your sexual horizons in the front seat of a barely-stranger's truck. Though, it felt a little awkward still asking him to let out you out at the nearest town after what you'd just done.

"We'll be comin' up to the next town soon," he said, as if reading your mind. "How 'bout you let me take you out for a bite to eat, and afterwards, if you still want me to drop you at the bus station, I'll oblige," he proposed, willing to do anything to spend more time with you.

You smiled, nodding. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable request to you. Besides, you had already planned on stopping for food before heading to the bus station anyway. "Okay, that sounds nice," you agreed softly, buckling yourself back in because safety first.

"I know a real good diner in town. They serve the best burgers and milkshakes this side of the Mississippi," he said with a grin, placing his hand back on your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth across your skin. Your smile widened, stomach doing flips at his touch, and you found yourself thinking that maybe your adventure could wait just a little while if it meant spending more time in the handsome cowboy's presence.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee /

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough. 

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her. 

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love. 

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill. 

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them. 

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end. 

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son. 

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die. 

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed. 

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers. 

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded. 

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow. 

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour. 

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

 There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to. 

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice. 

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him. 

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament. 

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods. 

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room. 

- Shall we, my Lady? 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat. 

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features. 

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade. 

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed. 

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it. 

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug. 

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade. 

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny. 

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses. 

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you. 

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking. 

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies. 

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man. 

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike. 

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way. 

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps. 

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting. 

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls. 

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head. 

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo. 

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts. 

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me. 

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him. 

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle. 

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art. 

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards. 

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs. 

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P3)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: the trio find themselves at the home of Bill and Frank, not knowing what became of them.

Warnings: death, cursing, Joel being Joel, Ellie being Ellie, Bill and Frank's story😭

Masterlist

Part 1, Part 4

...............................................

The three neared Bill and Frank's home, the electric fence only a few feet in front of them.

"Stay here."

Joel stepped forward, punching the code into the lock and opening the fence for the girls to step through.

Joel could tell something was off, but Y/N seemed to be in her own little world, her medication finally helping her for once.

"You know, El? I think you'll really like Frank. Actually, I take all of that back… Bill is going to be your favorite."

Ellie scoffs, "What makes you say that?"

Y/N hums, "Cause you like Joel. And they're very much alike."

Joel snorts under his breath at that, but says nothing.

When they neared the house, Y/N stopped as if something was forcing her to the ground.

Joel placed a hand on her lower back, "Sweetheart?"

He followed her gaze, which was locked on the dead potted plant by their doorstep.

He pulled at her reluctant body and moved towards the door. His eyebrows furrowed when he discovered the door was left entirely unlocked.

The house was dead silent.

They all stood in the entryway, Joel's hand holding Y/N's wrist gently. He thought of it as a comfort for her, but deep down he knew it was comfort him too.

Ellie's eyes were wide, "What the fuck?"

Joel stared at the staircase, "Bill?"

Nothing.

"Frank?"

Joel turned to Ellie was a serious gaze and a soft voice, "You stay there. You hear anything, you see anything… yell."

"What if they're gone?"

Joel stopped, his grip on Y/N loosens as he turns back to Ellie was a desperate look before turning back and taking Y/N with him.

The two searched the house with their hearts in their stomachs before they moved back towards the entryway.

Ellie sat in the open room next to it at their dining room table. A note was in her hands.

"It… it's from Bill. Came with this."

She pushed a car key across the table towards them.

Joel took off his backpack. He carefully picked the key up. "So, they're dead?"

Ellie nodded with a soft "Uh-huh."

Y/N let out a soft cry, coving her hands over his mouth to muffle it.

Joel turned to her, his jaw clenched, as he pulled her to him silently. She grabbed the collar of his jacket and cried into his chest.

Ellie held out the note, "You wanna…?"

His hands wrapped around Y/N, one around her waist and the other into her hair. "Go ahead. You do it."

Ellie let out a soft sigh began to read.

August 29, 2023, If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn't smell, but it will probably be a sight.

Y/N turned her head slightly against Joel's shoulder to watch Ellie as she read. He continued to gently play with her hair.

I'm guessing you found this, Joel because anyone else would've been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse.  Anyway, I never liked you, but still, it's like we're friends, almost. And I respect you. So, I'm gonna tell you something because you're probably the only person who will understand.

Joel felt a slight wet feeling on his chest and looked down. The tears were silently falling from his girl's face. His hand ran up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb lightly grazing over it, wiping the tears as they came.

I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving.  That's what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That's why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way.  I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep- 

Ellie stopped, looking back up at them. 

Joel moved forward, his hands leaving Y/N as he grabbed the paper from Ellie's hand. 

He looked at it.

Tess.

…keep Tess and Y/N safe.

When Y/N moved to look over his shoulder at it, he stood tall. "Stay here."

He stormed out of the house. 

Ellie stood up, looking to the woman curiously.

"Leave him, Ellie. He needs time."

…

When he came back in, the two were still at the table, Y/N now sitting in one of the chairs. They both look up at him in question.

But he only looked at Ellie.

"Show me your arm."

She stepped towards him, pulling up her sleeve and showing him her arm.

He sighed, "I just finished makin' a truck battery. It's charging right now."

"..okay?"

"And I have a brother out in Wyoming. He's in some kinda trouble, and I'm heading out there to find him. He used to be a firefly…"

With this, Y/N stood up slowly, joining the two.

"…and my guess is he knows where some of them are out there. Maybe they can get you to wherever this lab is."

Ellie sighed, "Alright. Listen. About Tess…"

Joel held up his hand, not wanting to hear it, and sure as hell not wanting Y/N to hear it.

"If I'm takin' you with me, there's some rule you gotta follow. Rule 1: You don't bring up Tess. Ever."

Y/N noticed the tone in his voice. It was hurt and desperate.

"Matter of fact," he said, "we can just keep our histories to ourselves. Rule 2: you don't tell anyone about your…condition. They see that bite mark, they won't think it through. They'll just shoot you. Rule 3: you do what I say when I say it. We clear?"

There was no way Ellie could say no to the persistent glare he gave her, "Yes."

"Repeat it."

Y/N stepped forward, "Joel.."

He held a hand in front of her, stopping her, "Quiet, sweet girl."

She stopped.

Ellie thought for a moment, the silence deafening, "What you say goes."

Joel sighed, "…okay."

…

They spent the next few days in the house, gathering supplies. 

Y/N took it upon herself to gather their clothes and toiletries.

Joel was more focused on weapons and fixing the truck.

They were a good team.

She was sat in the living room, after her shower. Her hair was damp as she sorted through a few of the clothing boxes for last minutes pieces.

Ellie's voice brought her from her thoughts, "Well, don't you look pretty."

Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Joel all washed up. His hair was combed back, one of Bill's clean flannels on him. (^^ the gif at the top^^)

She smiled.

He looked at Ellie, "Shut up."

He then held his hand out, "C'mon, sweet girl. We have plenty."

Y/N stood, taking his hand.

…

Ellie's hand grabbed the passenger side door handle and Joel immediately grunted. "Nah-uh. Get in the back."

A smile ghosted her face and she got in the back.

Y/N smiled too, "I'll let you have it in a few hours. How about that?"

Joel grunted again, "No. She's a kid."

The girls rolled their eyes and continued like nothing happened.

Joel started the truck, relieved when it started. 

He felt Y/N's gaze on him.

When he looked at her, he found that she really was looking at him.

She reached up, her finger lightly grazing over the large cut on his cheek.

He mumbles, "Doesn't hurt anymore."

She nods, retracting her hand.

He reaches out, grabbing it.

He twists it, staring at the bruise from days ago on her forearm.

She mumbles in the same way, "doesn't hurt anymore."

He nods, the ghost of a smile making its way to his face. "Good."

They pulled away from all that was left of Bill and Frank as Linda Ronstadt played from the mixtape.

...............................................

Part 4

[buckevantommy]

1? For dialogue prompts

꒰ 1 ꒱ “i can’t fucking believe this.”

"I can't fucking believe this."

"Sal.."

"Where in the hell does he get off—"

"Sal! It was my choice."

That brings his friend up short. "What?"

"I broke up with him."

The worst of it is: there's no confusion in Sal's eyes. Just horrid understanding sinking in. And not without pity. "Jesus."

Tommy scrubs a hand down his face, stubble catching on his calloused palm. He hasn't bothered shaving on his days off. Evan was always so vocal about how much he enjoyed the texture of Tommy's scruff - beneath his fingertips, against his lips, between his thighs.. His next inhale is a heady rush. "Yeah."

The couch dips where Sal settles beside him. They sit in silence for a minute, maybe two, maybe more. Tommy fiddles with the label on his beer bottle and doesn't taste it when he takes a sip, the flavors bitter on his tongue.

Sal finally breaks the uneasy quiet. "What happened?"

He ran away. He ruined the best relationship he's ever had because he got scared. "I fell for him. I let myself think—" It was stupid. Foolish. He should never have let things get as far as they did. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't want me."

"He tell you that?"

"He's not seeing things clearly right now, but he will."

"Oh my god." Sal sways forward in his periphery. His tone is accusatory, which: rude. "Is this because of Jason?"

Tommy looks away.

"Jesus, Tommy. I know you cared about him, but that guy was an asshole."

Jason was Tommy's second serious long-term relationship with a man. They dated less than a year before moving in together. Three months later they broke up because Jason wasn't ready to commit and Tommy found himself on Sal's couch for the next two months.

That's putting it nicely. The harsh truth was that the man Tommy saw himself buliding a life with got bored of their relationship. Bored of Tommy. And Evan— Buck, would've soon realised the same: that he wanted more than Tommy could give him, wanted something different, someone better, wanted to explore this newly discovered facet of his identity without hindrances.

Not that Tommy was ever going to move into the loft, even in a perfect world where things turned out better for them; Tommy has a house for fuck sake, a mid-century ranch he's spent the better part of a decade making his own. And living alone. But he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't pictured waking up to a certain someone there every morning and going to sleep together every night.

Why be apart when we can be together?

"Hey," Sal knocks a knuckle against his knee. "I'm sorry."

Tommy gives a tight nod, doesn't trust himself to open his mouth in case what comes out is something more embarassing than words.

"For what it's worth, I thought you and Buckley were good together. Hadn't see you that happy in years."

He was happy. Happiest he's ever been in a relationship - except maybe for the giddy euphoria he felt with his own first boyfriend; it was fun but it ran its course. Same with Jason. And he was Buck's first, it wouldn't last. It didn't.

He let himself ignore the inevitable for six amazing months. He doesn't regret their time together, but the ease of being with Buck had lured him into a false sense of security. Buck didn't know the real Tommy - he barely knew himself - so it became apparent that moving forward together was not an option.

Foolish Tommy's happiness always seems to spell heartache down the line. He tried to spare himself this time but it was too late, and that notable happiness that was is juxtapose to a consequential pain that is and which feels like it could last a lifetime.

"I love him," Tommy confesses suddenly, voice quietly ragged. A heated sting presses behind his eyes and he squeezes them shut. Tries to steady his breathing.

And only resists for a moment as Sal pulls him in, big hand bracing Tommy's head, tucking into his friend's shoulder as the floodgates open.

"I know, pal. I know."

doing this thing

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Hello! I wanted to request since I saw your box was open. I would like to request a Alastor x husk's sister!overlord!reader and Alastor does not own her soul. She appears in the hotel one day to find Husk on episode 7, when they were building defenses in the hotel before Charlie, Veggie and Alastor returns, she lectures him and later says something like, 'At least, there's something merciful about Alastor. He never broadcasted your screams, that I don't need to hear or to have nightmares about' and 'I'm just glad to see your alive and safe', and Alastor is in love with her. I don't want it to be angst much just some fluff. Thank you! ^^

⠀

⠀

The Cat and the Radio Demon - Part 1

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Overlord!Reader / Reader is Husk’s sister

Warnings/Tags: female reader, reader is Husk’s sister, reader is an overlord, use of alcohol, fluff (?), mutual pining, mention of toxic ex, Husk does NOT approve, English is not my first language! (Tags might change with upcoming parts but there’s no 18+ content planned for this fic.)

Summary: As Husk’s sister, you visit him the day before the upcoming extermination and find the hotel in a surprisingly chaotic state. During a deep conversation with your brother, you not only learn that heaven has specifically targeted the hotel this time but you also discover that an old acquaintance, whom you haven’t seen for seven years, is currently residing at the hotel. You decide to support the residents in their battle against the angels, hoping to also reconnect with the overlord who has intrigued you for decades – unaware that he shares your complicated feelings.

Wordcount: 4.6k

A/N: This will be a multi-part fic! It took me so long to write because I just couldn’t decide which way I wanted the story to go. This part is set during season 1 episode 7 and doesn’t feature much fluff yet because it mostly focuses on the relationship between Husk and the reader as well as the past between the reader and Alastor. I promise there will be a lot more fluff in the upcoming chapters! Comment if you like to get tagged in part two and I’ll add you to the list :D

Masterlist

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   Your thoughts race as you walk up the hill towards the Hazbin Hotel. Since the next extermination is about to happen tomorrow, you want to visit your brother just in case things don’t end well for any of you. With a deep sigh you raise your hand to knock on the huge double door as loud rumbling noises catch your attention. Voices mixed with clatter and hammering make the hotel sound like a building site and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Knowing well that no one would hear your knocks under this turmoil you decide to just open the door and step inside.

   The noises get louder when you enter the lobby and you freeze at the unexpected sight. The whole entrance area looks in fact like a building site. Little egg demons rush back and forth, carrying long wooden slats that must be at least triple as heavy as them. Most of the windows are bolded with messy wood paneling scattered across the window frames to shield the hotel from outside, letting almost no light through. The whole establishment looks like a lost place and you would've described it as one if there weren't the rumbling of woodwork and the scatter of voices echoing through the room.

   “Uhm, hello?” you announce your arrival, calling over the loud noises. You turn on your heels, letting your gaze wander around the gallery as you search for a familiar face – or at least for someone who isn’t an egg.

   When you tilt your head back, your eyes trail along the balcony that's surrounding the lobby on the first floor until your gaze gets stuck on three figures barricading the upper windows.

   “Hello?” you call again, this time louder. One of the figures stops hammering and turns around. A huge grin spreads across their face as they approach the balcony, leaning over the railing to look down at you. You immediately wave as you recognize Angel.

   “Oh hey, toots!” he greets you with an excited voice and waves back, holding a hammer in each set of his hands.

   You open your mouth to ask him for your brother as Angel already turns around and disappears so far behind the railing that you can only see the upper tufts of his fluffy hair. He moves his head back and forth, unintelligible voices, then it gets quiet until the pointy ears and huge wings of your brother appear in your sight.

   “Oh, hello, Y/N!” he shouts over the railing, “Give me a moment, I’ll come down!” He raises his hand to silently signal you to wait and walks over to the stairs. He approaches you with widely spread arms and a welcoming smile on his typically grumpy face, and pulls you in a tight embrace.

   Returning his smile you lean into his familiar hug and a comfortable warmth spreads through your body.

   “Hey there, sis. I haven’t seen you in what feels like ages! What are you doing here?” Husk squeezes you for a short moment before he lets go and musters your appearance with furrowed eyebrows, checking if something has changed since your last encounter. But you still look the same: a few inches shorter than him, your hair cut into a messy shoulder-length bob with loose curls falling in your face and tickling your nose and cheeks. In comparison to your brother’s appearance your sinner form looks mostly human – your pointy ears and fluffy tail are the only feline features that suggest a kinship with your brother. Other than that, you couldn't look more different from each other.

   You clear your throat and your voice runs deeper as you explain, “I wanted to see you before the next extermination. You know, in case something happens to one of us.” It has always been your personal ritual to meet a few days before an extermination happens but since this one is about to happen much earlier than normally, Husk didn't expect to see you this time – thus making him even more excited about your visit.

   “You want a drink?” he points with his chin at the bar and you nod, following over to the swampy-looking structure.

   “But please none of those throat-burning hellfire liquids. You know I prefer the lighter ones,” you laugh.

   Husk chuckles at your comment and slips behind the bar, his eyes searching the shelf before he takes two bottles and mixes you a light daiquiri with lots of ice to dissolve the taste of the alcohol a little.

   “Thank you.” Husk places the drink on the counter and you pull it closer but not intending to take a sip until at least one of the ice cubes has completely melted.

   Husk opens himself a bottle of cheap booze and places his elbows on the counter, resting his chin in one of his hands while holding the bottle in the other. “So… How are things going?” he asks curiously between two sips, a sly smile on his face.

   “Nothing too exciting,” you reply, twirling the straw in your drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. For a moment, you're lost in thought, recalling the events of the past six months. Then, something clicks in your mind, and your eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, that bastard Visco finally got what he deserved!”

   “Oh, really? T’was about time something happens,” Husk mumbles with a grunt and his eyes narrow. Visco, your ex, has been loathed by Husk ever since you introduced them. And honestly, Husk's feelings are completely justified. Visco isn't just a scumbag; he's also a cheater and a terrible liar. He's always tried to shift blame onto you for his mistakes. Even though you ended things with him years ago, he hasn't let go and continues to shadow your every move, denying you peace. If it were possible in hell, you'd have already obtained a restraining order against him. Not even your overlord powers can keep this jerk at bay. Despite your formidable reputation, he sees you as harmless, like a kitten, which is infuriating.

   “Yeah, he lost his home and all of the assets after fucking with the wrong demon. Eventually lost his soul to some drug overlord who now keeps him on a tight leash. And well… I might have involved myself a little to make that happen.” You feel a sense of satisfaction as you explain, wearing a proud and mischievous grin on your face. You can feel your eyes change their color for a quick second, before taking the first sip of your drink. The strong flavor of rum is mellowed by the melting ice, allowing the tang of lime and the hint of elderflower to dominate the drink with a subtle sweetness.

   “It would surprise me if you hadn't had at least a little influence on it. Took you long enough,” Husk grumbles and you roll your eyes.

   “You know very well that despite my status I’m not one of those who prefer to resolve their problems with violence. I like to let my intellect play the game and make up my own rules. And this time, the circumstances had aligned well enough for the best possible revenge!”

   The cat demon chuckles and shakes his head in amusement. He knows you well enough to understand how important it is for you to gain your power through subliminal actions.

   He clears his throat and looks over to his comrades who are still busy with covering the windows in wood panels. “Well, even though I’m glad you’re here, Y/N, we shouldn’t spend too much time just chatting. We have to prepare a lot ‘cause things will get dirty tomorrow. Even dirtier than normally.” Your brother’s voice turns into a growl at his last words and you frown in concern.

   “What do you mean by that?”

   “Well,” Husk clears his throat and takes a long sip from his bottle, “the angels are specifically coming for the hotel.”

   Silence.

   You just stare at your brother in disbelief and you could swear your heart stopped beating. Holding your breath you blink a few times, processing the wave of shock. “What?” You exhale. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

   “We just found out recently. Charlie had tried another audience with heaven but that fucker Adam sees the hotel as a threat.”

   “Oh Husk…” you raise your hand and cover your mouth in shock, your ears planing under the surge of pity. “That’s horrible. I–I can’t believe it.” Your eyes observe your brother. He seems surprisingly calm despite the news he just revealed to you. But before you can say something he continues, “Did you know that angels can be killed?”

   “E–excuse me?” you inquire, cocking your head in surprise, your ears flicking back up into their normal position. You observe a slight but smug smile playing at the corners of his lips.

   “Ya heard me right. They can be killed. Vaggie’s out getting some angel weapons ‘cause those are supposed to be the only thing that can harm them.”

   You hum and bite your lips in fascination, then your voice drops even lower as you mumble, “Interesting…”

   “Yes, but please keep it to yourself. At least for now. I don’t wanna get in trouble for telling you this,” Husk murmurs and shoots you a pleading glance before you nod in agreement. When there is one thing you don’t want, then it is your brother getting in trouble because he told you something he isn’t supposed to. Which doesn’t mean that it would be okay for you if he gets in trouble for any other reason. You want him to be as safe as he wants you to be. You are glad he is okay, still alive and unharmed. And hopefully his condition stays the same after tomorrow.

   “What about the princess?” you ask, increasing the bite on your lip in curiosity, “Is she accompanying Vaggie?”

   Husk shakes his head. “No, she’s currently out with my boss, tryna gather some support from his acquaintances over in Cannibal Town. I’m sure she’ll return soon.”

   Your ears twitch in excitement. “Alastor’s here too?” you ask and try to hide your excitement. You know well enough about your brother's apathy for him. ‘Being done with his shit’ is how he once described it to you and you couldn’t blame him. You’d probably be sick of him too if you were on his leash. Honestly, the fact that Alastor owns your brother’s soul should be enough to despise the overlord but you couldn’t because you somehow had found yourself intrigued by him the moment you had met him for the first time. But this was not the only reason you’re surprisingly fond of him.

   You can hear Husk growl in disapproval, proving your thought. His voice is raspy and full of annoyance when he says, “You know damn well that he’s forcing me to be here. So yes, he’s obviously residing in this hotel as well. Haven’t you seen him the last time you were here?”

   You shake your head. No, you didn't. You had visited the hotel only once and that was almost half a year ago – and Alastor definitely wasn’t present that day. In fact, you hadn't seen Alastor in years, ever since he vanished from the surface, leading many to believe he didn't survive the last extermination – or that he had crossed paths with the wrong overlord by accident. You hadn't even been aware of his return until his clash with Vox dominated hell's media. Furthermore, your brother hadn't mentioned him during your last visit, which isn’t surprising, but bothers you the longer you think about it. You would’ve liked to get in touch with the Radio Demon again.  The last opportunity you might have had to encounter Alastor was at the last overlord meeting, but you had skipped it for personal reasons. But hearing that he’s residing in this hotel fills you with a jolt of anticipation that makes your heartbeat go faster. You start to wonder why he even bothers to find interest in this hotel…

   Husk shrugs his shoulders. “I think it’s better this way.”

   You hum and roll your eyes as you raise your glass to your lips, taking a few sips. Of course he would say that. “He’s not that awful, Husk,” you respond with a defensive tone, earning a low growl from your brother which you choose to ignore. “I think you can call yourself lucky that you lost your soul to him and not any other overlord.”

   You look at Husk over the rim of your glass as you take another sip, then you put it down, shrugging your shoulders at his gritted teeth.

   “Please, Y/N, don’t start this again…” He mumbles and shakes his head in disappointment. The both of you had this discussion way too often over the course of a few decades.

   “What I mean is that your situation could be worse if a different overlord held your leash. Okay, yes, he might’ve a very feared reputation and such but at least there’s something merciful about Alastor.”

   “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Husk asks and his eyes open wide in disbelief. He obviously can’t fathom what you just said. “He literally used to broadcast the screams of the souls he tore apart.”

   You let out a deep sigh. Of course you know about all the horrible actions that made Alastor gain his infamous reputation as The Radio Demon. But honestly, you are in hell. Is there anything else to expect? Almost every sinner is somehow a psychopath in their own way so you can’t really blame him for doing questionable things to work himself up to the top. It’s not that you’ve never done it yourself. You haven’t become an overlord by just deciding to call yourself one on a random day. You had worked hard for it, often in crucial and unfair ways, overpowering the weaker with your manipulative tactics. That is just how the food chain works in hell. And your brother was no saint either. He had dealt in souls as well, betrayed other sinners with a second deck of cards up his sleeve while he kept them believing he was an honest opponent... He had been a cheater through and through when it came to gambling and the fact that he had used his skills to trick other sinners into giving him their souls made him no better. Actually, you had laughed your brother in the face when you had found out that he, the gambling overlord and master of manipulative games, had accidentally sold his soul by messing up his cheating performance during a game of poker against The Radio Demon. You hadn't even bothered to offer him a shred of sympathy for his newly acquired role, as you found yourself relishing the karma that had struck his furry ass. The only one Husk could blame for his predicament was himself. And truth be told, you're somewhat relieved that your brother has been chained with Alastor's leash. After all, he used to be a ruthlessly manipulative and disrespectful drunkard with a self-destructive gambling addiction, who never cared for you even half as much as he does now. Since he had lost his status as an overlord he had changed become a much better person.

   Considering how much of an asshole your brother used to be, it is quite surprising that Alastor never treated him the way he supposedly treated other overlords he had tricked into a deal. To your knowledge, Alastor has never harmed or mistreated your brother in any way, nor has he wronged you.When you initially encountered The Radio Demon, he presented himself as a charming and sophisticated gentleman, with impeccable manners and a refined way of speaking. Over time, he maintained this facade, consistently treating you with the utmost respect, prompting you to wonder if it was merely a facade or if he had been raised exceptionally well by his mother. Except, of course, for his psychopathic tendencies. You and Alastor have been acquainted for at least two decades now, and from the very beginning, you found him immensely intriguing. One could even say you were drawn to his charismatic personality. He had even invited you out once, though you still keep that detail hidden from your brother. If he ever discovers that you and his boss had shared a private dinner, he'd undoubtedly throw a tantrum. Or much more. Of course, it had been nothing more than a professional meeting between the two of you…

   You take a deep breath. “Don’t act as if you had been any better, Husk,” you respond to his comment in annoyance, reminding him of his once shitty personality, and he flinches at your words. Oh yeah, Husk has always been a master at dishing out but not being able to take it on the chin… “And to be honest, I’m glad to see that you’re still alive and safe. I don’t need to hear your screams on the radio and then have nightmares about it.” You laugh dismissively at your sarcastic comment and take another sip from your drink. You notice the tension in Husk’s expression and reach out your finger, booping his nose.

   He flinches back in surprise and his stern face turns a little softer at your silly gesture. “I think I should continue my work. I feel bad that I’m sharing a drink with you while my comrades are working their asses off.”

   One sentence the old Husk would’ve never brought over his lips, you think. With one long sip you empty your glass and slide it over to Husk who places it in the sink. “Let me support you. I would’ve come days earlier if I knew that the circumstances were this bad…” you exclaim, your tone more of a demand than a request.

   Husk nods without hesitation. "Fine. We need any help we can get!”

   With that you and Husk leave the bar and approach Sir Pentious and Angel.

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   You support the three men in building defenses, laughing and chatting here and there. Time passes quickly and the other residents return from their missions.

   You turn around when you hear the door open and go straight up to the railing, looking down at the entrance right under you. You chuckle in joy as Charlie and Vaggie come into sight and you clear your throat.

   “Well, if that ain't the princess of hell and her girlfriend!” you call out and turn over to your male comrades, “Look, guys, who decided to show up!”

   Angel, Husk and Sir Pentious stop their work and step next to you, a sly smirk on Angel’s face and his hands rested on his hips. “We thought we were fightin’ by ourselves!” he lets out with a laugh.

   Charlie and Vaggie look up. “You’re… you’re still here?” Vaggie asks, her voice relieved and trembling in amazement. Tears well up in Charlie’s eyes.

. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” The princess shouts up to your floor and you shoot a grin at her, revealing your pointy fangs.

   “I’m supporting you, of course!” you exclaim in excitement and Charlie’s expression turns thankful. But before you can add something, the door opens again and a bunch of people enter, dragging huge wooden crates with warning labels in the lobby. You cock your head in amazement. Looks like they were successful in their missions…

  Vaggie immediately turns around and starts to shout clear instructions through the lobby, leaving her girlfriend behind. So you decide to head downstairs.

   “Are they all weapons?” you ask with wide eyes as you glance around, counting at least a dozen of wooden crates.

   Charlie, who you stands just a few feet away, turns around immediately and nods, her already bright face turning even brighter when her gaze falls on you.

   “Are you really here to support us?” she asks in an enthusiastic tone, forgetting your question completely. A sparkle of joy flickers in her eyes and you can’t help but smile back.

   “Well…” you take a deep breath, pondering the best way to explain your presence without it sounding wrong because you originally came here for a chat, not expecting the hotel and its residents to be preoccupied by such drastic preparations. “Honestly, I had just planned to visit my brother but now that I’ve found out about your situation I decided that you could need my help. I will fight with you all, tomorrow.”

   “Oh my god, thank you!” Charlie screams enthusiastically, raising her hand above her head before she pulls you in a tight embrace.

   You stiffen at the sudden proximity but relax after a couple of seconds, wrapping one of your arms around her shoulder. Three quick pets on the pad of her suit, then you slowly pull away. You are so focused on the princess that you don’t notice the shadow forming behind you.

   “Charlie, I didn’t know you invented a guest!” a voice, distorted by radio static, cuts through the babble in the room.

   You instinctively hold your breath and Charlie moves her head to look behind you. “Oh Alastor!” she exclaims, her arm tucking at your shoulder to signal you to turn around.

   You do as the princess silently demands and face the new arrival: a tall and slim man dressed in a red pinstripe coat, a black bowtie and black slacks. His red and black hair frames the sharp features of his handsome face, deep red eyes glowing surprise as they lock on you, his huge smile widening into a well-knowing grin that reveals his sharp yellow canines. The fluffy ears on his head twitch the same way yours do when you get excited. Is he excited to see you? Because you are definitely excited to see him…

   Charlie reaches out her hand, gesturing between you and the other demon as if she wants to introduce you to each other. “This is Y/N! She’s Husk's sister, and–.”

   A chuckle escapes Alastor’s throat. “Oh, there’s no need to introduce us, dear,” he interrupts her with a dismissive gesture of his clawed hand and approaches you. His voice turns softer, deepening in tone and the radio static is just a buzzing background noise as he mumbles, “How could I forget about such a lovely lady…?” With those words he bows his head in a classy manner and leans down to take your hand in his. With a sly smile he places a soft kiss on your knuckles, resting his lips on your skin a little longer than necessary.

  Your cheeks flush instantly at his gesture, and you find yourself locking eyes with him, meeting his crimson gaze. Your body tenses under his touch, sending shivers down your spine, and you only realize you've been holding your breath when he releases your hand and straightens his posture.

   “Alastor, long time no see,” you greet him in return, a sly smile tucked on your lips as you eye him from head to toes and back to his head. After all those years he still wears this everlasting smile on his face…

   “You… both know each other?” Charlie involves herself, interrupting the quick greeting between you and the Radio Demon.

   Alastor lets out a laugh. “Oh, Charlie… Of course we do!” he responds with a raspy voice, the radio effect on his voice increasing. Then his attention falls back on you. “You didn’t show up at the last overlord meeting, Y/N.”

   You shrug your shoulders at his indirect question. “And you didn’t show up for seven years,” you countered teasingly with raised eyebrows.

   “Touché, ma chère.”

   Charlie bites her lip and switches her gaze between the both of you, when suddenly, Vaggie calls her name and she excuses herself, leaving you and Alastor alone.

   You tilt your head to the side, now finally able to ask one of the questions that are burning on your mind for quite a while now. “So, tell me, where have you been all those years?”

   Alastor releases a chuckle and waves his hand dismissively. “This is a long story, dear…” Though his expression stays the same his eyes darken a bit as you bring up his absence. You bite yourself on the lip, feeling a surge of nervosity rise and churning your insided. Immediately understanding that this must be a difficult topic for him, you push your thoughts away, dismissing the topic.

   As fast as Alastor’s eyes darkened they return to their usual glow. He twists his cane in his hand and leans closer. “Enough about me, Y/N. May I ask what gives us the honor of your company?”

   There he is again. The witty demon you had found yourself way too fond of. You give him the same answer you gave Charlie and look around the room, scanning the tumult around you, the lobby a bit less crowded than just minutes before. Your eyes stay on a young woman in a lab coat who writes something on a clipboard, probably checkmarking all the delivered supplies and weapons.

   “Another overlord would surely be a great support,” you hear Alastor respond, interrupting your mental absence and pulling you back into reality. “Voices say that you are remarkable at fighting.”

   You close your eyes and release a chuckle before you open them again and face Alastor with raised eyebrows. His gaze lingers on yours, his smile a little softer than normally. Your stomach flutters at this sight and you turn your gaze away, sensing his eyes still staring at you. “Is that so?”

Leaning on his cane, he regards you in silence, his proximity feeling closer than before. Is that his breath you sense against your skin? You swallow hard, hesitant to direct your focus back to him. Instead, you fix your gaze on a random person in the room, feigning interest in their actions to avoid catching Alastor's attention. Although, he likely notices your avoidance regardless. He's far too skilled at discerning others' behavior to overlook such a detail.

   “Don’t play ignorant, Y/N. Everyone knows that your combat skills are as formidable as your intellect,” he suddenly interrupts the silence between you and you chuckle at his compliment.

   Satisfied by your response, Alastor tucks his cane back under his arm and places his hand on your shoulder. "I believe you'd serve as an excellent mentor for all the Cannibals outside," he says. With light pressure he turns you around to force you to look at him.

     “Uhm.. what?” you ask, way too surprised by his words to be affected by his face right in front of yours. Cannibals…?

   Alastor doesn’t respond but you could swear that his eyes shine in amusement. With a nod of his head he points in the direction where two huge double doors mark the hotel’s main entrance.

   Holding your breath you follow him towards the exit, a jumble of voices coming through the door causes your ears to perk up.

   Alastor chuckles at your reaction, obviously amused by your confusion and the closer you get to the door the louder the voices get. Alastor conjures a shadow tendril to open the door for you and you both step outside, walking side by side.

   You stop as your eyes fall on a huge crowd of pale faces with black eyes and sharp canines. “Uhm… Are those your acquaintances you were supposed to sign up for support?” you wonder, completely stunned by the amount of people Alastor and the princess had managed to gather.

   "Do you believe you could handle instructing some of them in combat?" he asks, both answering and ignoring your question at the same time. He looks down at you, though the distance between you is more appropriate than before.

   You press your lips into a straight line and tilt your head back to return his gaze, your expression clouded by overwhelm and a tad of uncertainty until it quickly switches to determination. “We’ll see,” you smirk at him.

[braindeathaoe]

Brain Death - An Oracle's End

“Welcome back, Oracle.”

Upcoming content will include but is not limited to: - Descriptions of extreme violence, gore & death - Substance Abuse (mainly consisting of alcohol)  - Parental Abuse/Neglect - Bullying/Ableism - Suicidal/Homicidal thoughts & tendencies  - Complete loss of self  - Brain Death This IF is rated 18+ and not suited for the faint of heart. The above content isn't condoned/glorified in any sense. Proceed at your own discretion.

~In continuing, I hereby acknowledge any exposure to that which I cannot handle is to the fault of none other than my own.~

——————————————————————————————————

Synopsis

It is the year 2099.

Encapsulating the very definition of Utopia, the city of Paradise is revered as a shining example of North Amerikas. And in 2 hours, it'll be destroyed—alongside every soul living within its walls. For anyone else, this would've been the ending to a pretty meaningless story.

Unfortunately for you, it's only the beginning.

The universe must hold a heavy grudge, as it's decided to trap you in a never-ending loop. Reduced to an unwilling observer, all you can do is watch helplessly as everything you care about is destroyed over, and over, and over. No matter what you do. In spite of what you say.

~Regardless of what I think...~

Forever.

You are an Oracle; a cursed soul doomed to live, perish and repeat your miserable existence in an eternal limbo. Alone, forgotten, disregarded. You've witnessed the carnage countless times, explored as many avenues as humanly possible... The outcome never changes.

~It'll only get worse from here...~

Your end is fast approaching, and it doesn't look pleasant. Time is no longer on your side. Being trapped in this vacuum for as long as you have, you've started experiencing some horrifying side-effects. How many years of memories can the brain truly store?

That question may be answered soon.

S̴u̸c̵h̸ ̴a̷ ̴s̶h̴a̷m̷e̴ ̵t̶h̸a̵t̵ ̴n̷o̸b̷o̵d̵y̶ ̷w̵i̴l̴l̷ ̶b̷e̷ ̷a̷r̶o̶u̶n̷d̶ ̴t̵o̶ ̷h̷e̸a̷r̴ ̴i̷t̵.̷

——————————————————————————————————

Features

Create and customize your Oracle, developing their personality through dozens of choices!

Be AFAB or AMAB—decide your gender, appearance and pronouns!

Spend your 2 hours wisely by exploring the city of Paradise, meeting new people and utilizing your knowledge of past lives.

Eat a burger! (or multiple, who cares?)

Attend a cool festival and win mediocre prizes!

Uncover lost memories, and discover their relation to the present.

Solve the mystery keeping you trapped in this loop, or try to enjoy what little time is left.

Succumb to Brain Death.

——————————————————————————————————

Demo Release: Sometime 2025 (I FUCKIN HOPE)

——————————————————————————————————

Author's Note

Hello!

My name is Ricey! I'm the one writing this thing.

This is a passion project that I started out of discontent. In my personal opinion, there are a lot of interactive fictions out there that share similar problems.

Whether it be deciding for you how your character feels, what they say and do, or punishing players for not having the correct stats... It all feels so hollow and sometimes even immersion breaking.

(Don't get me wrong, sometimes there are plenty of upsides to a story to justify these "flaws". But the execution can be lacking, and unsatisfying. No hate!)

The goal of this IF is to give you, my dear reader, full creative control on how your character reacts, what they do with the information provided, and MOST IMPORTANTLY! To not tell you how they're feeling. That should be up to you to decide.

Of course, there will be exceptions to this rule. Some choices will trigger what I'm calling "Emotional States". And for narration purposes there may also be times that your Oracle feels frustration over something. But I will do my best to limit that.

Anyways, I'm done yapping for now. Stay hydrated! And stay tuned!

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Hi, friend! Could I request Solomon, Lucifer, Mammon, and Simeon with a reader who likes lights? Reader would collect lights (like lamps, nightlights, etc) and decorate their room with them.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hi love!! Of course you can! Also so sorry for this being so short but yeah- I didn't wanted to force anything -w- Hope you like it anyway!!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Lucifer honestly sees it as passion like any other

✧ he thinks it's nice that you got something you like and isn't too... troublesome with it... untill bill for electricity comes in lol

✧ he knows how much you like it and won't stop you from putting it around house if you'd really want to... but he'll warn you that Asmo will definitely pay attention to that and may complain about it if you "choose wrong design or place"

✧ he also tries convincing you to keep the lights off at least at night... or not I'm broad daylight if there's even one in hell

✧ if you fall asleep with lights on and wake up with them off, you can immideitly be sure it was Lucifer. But he meant nothing bad by doing it!

✧ he does his best to support you so if you ever decide to go for some light shopping, he'll sometimes come with you and share his opinion if you ask about it

"Sure, take it. Hm? What do I think about it? It's... a bit too complex for my taste... but I can see it fitting into your room perfectly."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@wabatle - come get your scary brother!

✧ once Mammon discovered your unique liking, he first called you a weird human

✧ and then the next day he bought you some lights as a gift

✧ he just has to be a tsundere about it... If you ask him why he got you that gift, he'll just say it's so you won't be whining to him later

"It's just for your weird human obsession! I was simply done with you whining about how much you want it! ... Do you like it tho?"

✧ all you have to do is to mention him what lights you're obsessing on in the moment and first thing he'll do once you part is go buy you them

✧ and if he can't he'll just go to casino to win some money so that he could afford it... which... has 50/50 chance of succeeding...

✧ though if you keep your lights on while sleeping, even some, he'll be grumpy about it and be stubborn to turn them off for the time of sleeping

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Solomon probably had something similar but only as a phase...

✧ he's human as well so he totally gets from where you're coming from!

✧ honestly, he's actually quite fond of how much lights you stole and finds your room really cozy

✧ at some point, he most likely asked you to help him pick some lights for his room too and didn't had the heart to decline any ideas you seemed so passionate about so he ended up buying whole store

✧ he doesn't really care if you keep lights on or off during the night... as long as he has a way of facing the opposite way than the light, he doesn't mind letting it stay if it helps you sleep

✧ definitely tried making some flying light orb or so, thinking you may like it!

"Hey, I made something for you. What do you think? Is there anything you want added to it?"

✧ overally, he's very supportive and will protect your hobby as best as he can if anyone tries insulting it

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Simeon is honestly very supportive of any hobby you may have that isn't dangerous to you or anyone for that matter

✧ he's just happy you have a passion, even if it's something simple as collecting lights!

✧ he'll most likely go to all or most of your shopping's just because he loves to see what's the lights you like or want

"Oh? This one? I would've never guessed it's in your taste... But it's good to know! It certainly has its own beauty~"

✧ he'll also try buying or even making a light for you! It doesn't have to be any ocassion... but if it is, he'll probably try extra hard to make it a good one

✧ though if he's making the gift... he'll probably as someone for help since he's afraid of messing something up and would rather have someone who knows more about it than him to watch over what he's doing

✧ he also doesn't really care if you keep the lights on or off at night! His realm is rather bright so he'll fall asleep anyway~

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl - come get your soft angel~

[laststandx3]

There are many bad things about wish, but one of the most annoying is how it fails to pay off its own set ups.

It's established Asha's father believes in the magic from the stars. He died of an illness (never specified), that Asha's grandfather (her father's father) never got his wish granted in YEARS, well now to me this feels targeted.

Follow my thoughts for a minute, how easy would have been with this already established set up to add the part where it's Magnifico who killed Asha's dad because he was promoting a different kind of magic that would undermine Magnifico's power? This would've established Magnifico as an actual villain from the start, manipulating people's perception of him with magic and the lengths he would go to keep his power and crown.

This would have impacted Asha's journey as well,instead of asking Magnifico to grant her grandfather's wish immediately (which imo is a good reason for him not to hire her, she literally asks for favoritism the moment she arrives), let her instead be perfect for the position, not clumsy and awkward but make her qualified and respectful of the king's secrecy about the wishes. And still she's still not hired. And then she starts questioning him, she's studied, she's ready and it's not enough and the king seemed to like her until she mentioned her father.

And then she talks with the people of rosa about the king, if that was unfair of him maybe , but the answer is that the king is good and kind and doesn't he grants everyone's wishes, isn't that so wonderful of him? (and maybe this can be a song) and at first it sounds like she just doesn't want to accept that she wasn't chosen but after the forth person answers the same exact thing, well then this starts to feel more like a script than an original thought. Just then she looks at all the wishes Magnifico's granted so far and they're all material, it's all about people owning bigger houses, better clothes, riches, nothing is about community, knowledge, about people becoming something(musicians, teachers, scientists, artists...) . The guy that got his wish granted last year also got it granted a few years ago too, Isn't that weird? Some people never get their wishes and this guy twice? And also his wish was so selfish? He wanted a swimming pool! How in the best kingdom, with the best king, nobody wishes nice things for others? And isn't that weird that she and her friends used to make graffitis and jokes on the guards but when Sleepy gave away his wish at 18 suddenly he doesn't make jokes about Magnifico's beard anymore? He's so respectful of the rules now.

And idk maybe Asha doesn't just wish upon a star and everything is given to her. Maybe Magnifico's source of magic is Star and she frees it and that's why Star tags along. The magic of the starts was real, her father was right! Star knew her dad, he tried to save the magical pet but he was killed instead! Now it's not just about freedom and justice she wants revenge. And this is maybe when she fucks up because she was too reckless, she got discovered. Her friends/family are watching how she's getting arrested/executed for treason and that's SO UNFAIR such a cognitive dissonance it breaks Magnifico's brainwash spell.

Now a song about revolution makes sense. But singing about revolution bc they want to be able to wish? Are you kidding me? Not only the movie established that you can have new wishes and that they make you whole again, but also girl, you all read the terms of services when giving Magnifico your wish. You give it to him and if he finds it worth it, it'll be granted. Making questions about the king choices is the opposite of living under a monarchy.

Ultimately I agree with everyone who says this movie feels empty, because it's true, it's a bunch of disney trope stitched together with easter eggs that don't makes us feel anything and that contradicts its own message. The fact that disney doesn't want to make grey characters anymore it's felt. And it mirrors the way people have started to see enjoying stories as media consumption, everything that alludes to people being flawed is an endorsement of abuse. So disney's characters have all turned is these empty shells of heroine tropes. They're always bubbly, their worst flaw is being clumsy, but the worst is that they're always right. Asha's quest to free the wishes is based only on her conviction that the king is wrong in not granting everyone's wish. It's never even hinted in the movie that the subjects of rosa lack something. It's a fairy-tale kingdom in every aspect (maybe the king is a bit egocentric but that hasn't hurt anyone so far), except that her grandpa's wish wasn't granted and so the king must be wrong. If it wasn't for Magnifico's long exposition of I don't accept criticism she wouldn't have questioned him. And even then, that's what living in a kingdom means, that you follow the king's rules. I'm sorry but singing about revolution and then ending the movie still under a monarchy is just contradictory with the whole premise.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics based on Taylor Swift songs as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🎶 would it be enough if i could never give you peace? by hemakeshimstrongx

(M, 129k, Taylor & Travis au) Harry's fresh off a break up when the media starts shoving a romance that does not exist down his throat, and the throats of everyone in the entire world. When he starts chatting with the footballer stuck in the middle of all this with him, Harry ends up experiencing something he'd never anticipated, and certainly had never felt before

🎶 The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @kingsofeverything

(E, 109k, cheating) Louis’ life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it’ll never be the same.

🎶 even if it’s just pretend (say you'll remember me) by sideofzemblanity

(E, 45k, hate to love) an enemies to lovers au based on taylor swift's wildest dreams

🎶 it always leads to you (in my hometown) by InsightfulInsomniac / @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 40k, Christmas) A holiday story of returning home — not just to a place, but also to a person. ‘tis the damn season and This Love inspired AU.

🎶 the road not taken by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2

(E, 35k, Christmas) the one where Harry returns back home for the holidays after a successful debut album, leaving Louis to unwrap gifts as well as old complicated feelings. Cue: hometown holiday hookups, overbearing siblings, and a disastrous New Year’s Eve party. A 'Tis’ the Damn Season' inspired au.

🎶 it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind) by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix

(E, 21k, coworkers) the childhood friends to strangers to coworkers to enemies to lovers fic that you never knew you needed

🎶 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 17k, girl direction) Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

🎶 i just wanted you to know (this is me trying) by harrysboy / @calumsboy

(M, 7k, baking) the one where louis bakes to express his love, and harry can't bake for shit, but he still tries.

🎶 Castles Crumbling by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 6k, omegaverse) Being an unmated Omega and a king, Harry came under a lot of scrutiny. But when he makes a deal with Scotland, his world comes crashing down.

🎶 in a different life (we would've been timeless) by liberty_barnes / @liberty-barnes

(T, 6k, historical) Five lives in which Harry and Louis met and the one where they got their happy ending.

🎶 So It Goes... by ThoseFookin_Avacados / @harrystomlinson

(T, 5k, spy au) “I’m going to kill you.” “Go right ahead, love.”

🎶 Red by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 4k, exes) All he wants to do is lie on his couch and listen to Taylor Swift alone. But when the pain is too much to handle on his own, he calls the one person who understands how this feels.

🎶 Twenty Stitches In A Hospital Room by betty_and_i

(NR, 3k, paramedic Harry) H is a paramedic and him and L broke up a few months ago over something stupid which caused them to not talk again. Fastforward L is in a situation that causes someone needing to call the paramedics for him and H is the one to be there at the scene

🎶 Electric Touch by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 3k, omegaverse) Harry had given up on love, until his friend Zayn sets him up on a blind date with Louis.

🎶 Timeless by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 3k, omegaverse) After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.

🎶 Lights Are So Bright by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 2k, famous/famous) Newly first-string quarterback Louis Tomlinson mentions enough times in interviews that he's a fan of mega-famous popstar Harry Styles that people start to notice. At least one person does...

🎶 'Tis the Damn Season by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(M, 2k, exes) The door will open and he’ll smile wide and genuine at the people who raised him, his teary-eyed mother and rosey-face step-father. He won’t think about the cabin in the woods again until next December.

🎶 You are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @dreaminrainbows

(M, 2k, pining) Louis is a hot bartender and Harry is pathetically in love with him

🎶 I Don’t Want You Like A Best Friend by temptationaccomplished

(M, 2k, established relationship) “I only bought those shorts so you could take them off.” He whispers.

🎶 Are We In the Clear by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox

(M, 1k, historical) Louis and Harry meet across a crowded court at a time when falling in love would mean their destruction. With help from a friend, they run for their freedom.

🎶 i see sparks fly whenever you smile by sbreadyn

(T, 1k, New Year's Eve) It's New Year's Eve. Louis's running late because Niall took his car. Harry only agrees to go out because of Zayn and Liam.

- Rare Pairs -

🎶 Taylor Swift Has Probably Written A Song About This Feeling by neerdowellwolf

(E, 20k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Nick isn't sure how he ended up fooling around with Louis Tomlinson and he's definitely not sure when he fell in love.

[the-final-sif]

Baby c!Dream has found something very very scary! He's found a new person! What's the correct response to this new threat?

Obviously, Dream prepared to murder them.

Listen he might've left most of the netherite armor at home (very heavy :( ) but he's still ready to do murder!!

He peeks out from his hiding place in the bushes, only to discover that the voice belongs to...

Another child?

Not a normal child though, there's something very wrong with this child.

They don't have any wings, their eyes aren't purple, they've got no scales and the horns on their head are nubby and would've been hidden by their hair.

Still, they are a child, and murder feels like an unfair response.

Plus... Well, Dream had been getting a bit lonely.

XD visits are nice and all, but they don't last that long. And Dream was used to always having people around.

Now XD had warned Dream that he must be very careful who he allowed close to him. And he took that seriously!

So, with that in mind, Dream carefully survived the other child, watching them for any signs of evil behavior.

After about five minutes he hadn't seen them do much but chew on their own foot. Still, he wasn't quite sure.

In the end, he went home without doing much beyond watching them. The entire situation felt far too scary. He'd never seen a child like that before, and he wasn't ready to interact with one yet.

Despite his nerves, Dream didn't mention the child to XD, not wanting to get them in trouble if they weren't supposed to be close. They didn't really seem threatening after all.

Nearly three years would go by of Dream keeping his eye on this strange child at the edge of his territory.

He was almost content to just watch the stranger forever, as they ventured out into his woods.

But as it turned out, the stranger was not quite so content.

Dream had gotten content to hide in the bushes, and... well he might've gotten a bit distracted by a ladybug crawling on the branch nearby him.

"Why are you in the bushes?"

In Dream's defense, he was spooked.

Which means his response, pulling out a netherite sword and attempting to hit the other child with it, was entirely normal and rational.

Luckily for both of them, he was in the middle of a bush, and the branches blocked the swing.

The other child's eyes went wide at the sight of a sword, but not out of fear.

"Do you have a sword?? That's so cool!! My dad won't let me have one and papa is a simp so he won't let me have one either! Where'd you get it?"

Dream hadn't exactly been expecting that response, but he recovered quickly.

"My- my guardian gave it. To me. For fighting."

Not his smoothest moment. But it got the point across.

The other child reached out with grabby hands, and Dream lurched backwards, tumbling out of the bush and onto his butt.

"Hey- Don't- It's mine and you can't have it!" Dream knew if he could still growl properly, his throat would be rumbling. But he couldn't anymore. He couldn't even really bare his teeth! So he had to hope his sword was scary enough.

"I wasn't- I wasn't gonna take it. I just wanted to look! I've never gotten to see one up close like this!" The other child protested, looking hurt by the accusation of theft.

Ah. Dream might've judged him a little too quickly. Still, he didn't really like the thought of having someone else's hands near his sword, so he carefully tucked it into it's sheath.

"My- my uh guardian told me not to let anyone else have it. I'm supposed to keep it safe." He explained, and while the other child seemed disappointed, he accepted that answer.

That left the two children sitting in an awkward silence.

...

...

...

"What's up with your mask?"

"What mask?"

Okay

When XD had said not to tell anyone about why he was wearing his mask. That was. That was probably not what he meant.

The other child seemed taken aback by that response though, so maybe it worked?

"... The one on your face? Or is that your face? It seems kinda weird."

Shoot. Okay.

"It is not! It's normal! Very normal. And you should mind your own business!"

Dream... might not be good at this whole lying thing. It was harder than he thought it'd be!

Still, the other child threw up their hands in surrender, unwilling to press the issue. Thank god.

"Alright! Fine! You have a normal mask-face. You- Hey, what's your name anyway?"

Oh! This one was easy!

"Dream! My name is Dream! What's your name?"

That got him a grin, and Dream felt something in him delight. He'd forgotten how good it was to have someone smile at you.

"Sapnap! My name is Sapnap! Dream is a pretty cool name. Do you wanna go on an adventure with me? I need someone else so Dad can't claim I was wandering off alone again. Plus you have a cool sword so if there's anything dangerous, you can just murder it."

Well, that made sense, and an adventure did sound like a good way to train. Dream still have five days before XD would be back...

"Sure, as long as you promise to not to steal my sword." Dream agreed, pushing himself back to his feet.

Sapnap beamed at Dream and quickly reached out to grab his hand and drag him towards a destination unknown as he began to talk rapidly and explain where they were going.

Dream was a bit worried about what he'd gotten himself into, but...

Well, it was better than being alone. That was for sure.

And maybe this Sapnap wouldn't be so bad.

Only time would tell.

[thatawkwardmoth]

I had no power during a tropical storm so I wrote a bunch of shit by candlelight, like a Victorian ruler. So I'm sorry for the spam posts but...

Enjoy I guess.

Let's start with one thing that has been on my mind for a while; if Emma had been able to raise the Cuckoos from day one, she would've put an emphasis on them all being different, not just a hive mind. She maybe would've stuck with the matching outfits but she wouldn't have let anyone group them up. They had names. It's something I see in a lot of twins or parents of twins (being a twin myself) is that eventually, you want to be different. And the Cuckoos were all different at one time, two dead, three dying their hair. But then the Krakoa era started and I understood in a way why they all went back to looking the same. They were a complete set again.

But I think that if Emma had raised them, they'd all be individuals in their own way. Even their rooms, which are important to any kid, are your first chance to portray and discover your interests and a safe haven for you. In the White Palace, they share one room, by choice. And I think they would do that in any universe. They want to be close and probably never slept separately until Phoebe and Sophie (? I think) died. So I think they'd have one room together. But they'd have different decors and aesthetics if they were only allowed to have a character arc outside of being evil, dead, or a hive mind. More than just a few interests shown or spats between them.

I would imagine they'd get to decorate the space by their beds and that would be that. Kind of like the og X-Men dorms, if you've seen that panel, where it's the boy's dorm and everyone has a section of the floor and walls to decorate to their tastes (and sadly, Scott's is empty and barren). But their room would have that vibe.

And Emma would be so organized with them. She's a good mom. On top of her shit, not like Hazel. Not overbearing and with unreachable standards that her father. Everything would be in certain folders, certains baskets, certain bags, their names on each thing. Or even just their initals. Her assistant would have to keep with all of their after-school activities just as well as Emma does because the driver shoulder never be late. Emma would have a fit if her daughters ever thought she forgot. Meaning every dance practice, gymnastics competition, swim meet, beauty pagent, whatever the Cuckoos wanted to join, had to be put in the calander next to Emma's meetings and such. Only the best private schools but Emma is not afraid to pull them out if they want, unlike her parents when she was telling about her being the outcast, or letting her girls pass because of how much money Emma gave the school to improve.

Just let Emma be a mom. Not just an at-arms-length mom.

(The Emma mini-series in the comics really is one of my favorite things, despite the weird teacher thing. It was a wonderful insight into her character and why she acts the way she does with her students/children. Mainly because of how her parents were. I also think Emma enjoys seeing how close the Cuckoos are as sisters because the only sibling she's close to is Christian and all her sisters tried to kill her and they never recovered from it.)

[veliseraptor]

So there's a poll that crossed my dash (https://www.tumblr.com/lansplaining/739863989923856384/in-a-time-travel-situation-to-save-himself-jgy if you're curious) about what JGY would do if he traveled back in time. There's lots of incredible but totally dissenting ideas in the notes, and now I really want your perspective. JGY dies in Guanyin Temple and wakes up in the past: what's his game plan?

oh man this is an interesting question! and so much of it is "it depends", particularly on "where in the past does he end up."

I think the first answer is actually to a certain extent "freeze and despair" because the thing is that from Jin Guangyao's perspective, he's never had a whole lot of options. His mistakes - or at least, the things that got him in trouble - look like, if not inevitabilities, a question of "what could I have done that would've been better?", at least at (his own) first impression. I think a lot of the time he makes the choices he makes because he feels cornered into them. He kills Nie Mingjue because otherwise he will die. Whether he was directly responsible for Rusong's death or not (I tend to think not, but I also think the text is deliberately ambiguous), it's a matter of preserving what little reputation he has (and MDZS tells us, repeatedly, that reputation can be the difference between life and death). The incest is thoroughly accidental and, once it's done, fairly inescapable without severely damaging both his own reputation (not an insignificant matter) and that of Qin Su, who he cares for deeply; once he knows he does what he can by ceasing to be intimate with Qin Su.

The only thing that I think is definitely not about feeling cornered is Jin Guangshan's death, which is far more personal; but there is also the consideration that if he doesn't kill Jin Guangshan he is quite probably going to be pushed out, one way or another. I don't remember if it's explicit or not, but Jin Guangshan's bringing in of Mo Xuanyu isn't not a threat that Jin Guangyao is replaceable.

So I think Jin Guangyao, back in time, looks at his options and thinks what am I supposed to do that won't end in disaster, when part of what doomed me was what I am (my mother's son), in and of itself.

He can try to stay in Nie Mingjue's good graces, but that means submitting himself to abuse from Nie subordinates and accepting his "place" with the Nie, which he doesn't want. If he never works as a spymaster for Wen Ruohan, then he never has the means to gain status, and if he works as spymaster for Wen Ruohan then he gains Nie Mingjue's suspicion if not enmity, which is likely to spiral rapidly both because of Nie Mingjue's inevitable deterioration and their drastic differences in perspective in general. If Jin Guangyao ends up with the Jin, he ends up having to do the same things that make Nie Mingjue so angry with him on behalf of his father, because it's not like he can say no. If he kills his father, he might have a chance, but he's also then committed a crime that if anyone discovers it will earn him universal approbation and has to live in fear of that for the rest of his life, intensified by his previous experiences/trauma from the former timeline. If he tries to make sure Nie Mingjue dies in the war, that's risky in itself, because if he is implicated even slightly in it he's also doomed.

Then, if he's only traveled back in time to when he's already joined the Jin after the Sunshot Campaign, it's even worse: he's already in a bad position with Nie Mingjue, who is going to become a (at least potential) threat to his life, but killing Nie Mingjue triggers Nie Huaisang's revenge. Killing Nie Huaisang is maybe an option but he would have to get away with it and that's intensely risky, and not something I know that he necessarily wants to do.

(I think he would kind of like to kill Nie Huaisang. I think he is very angry with Nie Huaisang. Definitely not going to be getting close to him at all, and I think would cut him off from any personal connection as politely as possible. Imagine how Nie Huaisang would feel about this with no understanding as to why, it's fun.)

If he doesn't do anything - leaves Jin Guangshan alive, leaves Nie Mingjue alive, leaves Nie Huaisang alive - he might be able to get through it alive. But from his perspective (at least) I think there's decent odds that Nie Mingjue would kill him, or at least a significant risk of it - if nothing else, because Nie Mingjue is going to lose control eventually and Jin Guangyao is a frequent target of his anger even when he is under control. And even if that doesn't happen, again, there's likelihood that he will have to live under his father's oppressive thumb for a long time, knowing that he's, not even hated, but just worthless to him. Knowing that his mother was worthless to him, and feeling, I think, that by being filial to his father he's betraying her. If Jin Guangshan doesn't just kick him out of the sect with nowhere to go.

I do think that while there's a part of Jin Guangyao that could, maybe, accept a low status as a means to survive (and I don't know that he would have anything but a low status in any other sect but the Jin; even his killing of Wen Ruohan doesn't earn him general respect), I think he would be miserable, and always resent it. I think that would feed into the despair, too: that this is his fate, that all his struggle and striving was for nothing and this is all he can do if he wants to live. That there was never any place for him in the world.

and taken all together this is why time travel fix-its where things are different because "Jin Guangyao just [whatever]" kind of drive me a little nuts, both from a logical and a character perspective. I'm not saying it's impossible. just that it's very difficult, and there's not a lot of pathways to happiness for my boy on his own without help - and where is he going to get help? just like the first time around, he's on his own.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Dear Rafal:

As some spirit swans shapeshifter angel possession thingy do you create souls and ship them off to the real world?

I have a case where I know someone very well and he just seems to be very similar to you. (cough cough)

Also if Rhian was a girl (or some genderbend AU) would you let me be her gf?

Rafal: [peers down at you from the sky through slitted eyes] I'm not a "thingy" as you claim. Nor am I possessed, and if you'd like to see a man possessed, turn no further than downwards, at my aging mirror image. He's bound to die eventually and I doubt he'll be joining me. [He grins.]

As for your query, the answer is no. Not currently. When I did involve myself in... low, earthly affairs, every mortal soul I had a part in creating was apparently deficient in some way or another. Always, it was: [said in a mocking tone] this one's imbued with an excess of "spite" or "hubris," that one is just plagued with "instability," and a third was impacted by a so-called "disregard for its own species" and a "malcontent temperament"—why should I care?

Amid those general issues, the few souls of mine that had been placed in the Woods were reported to be "cursed," what we call our failed projects, those who can't descend to the Woods and live "ordinary lives." They had to be reworked by my colleagues, who discovered that many of those restless mortals held unconscious, fully-formed vendettas against pirates, Seers, and blond men. Don't ask.

All of my creations have been scrapped thus far, including a potential distant relative I devised for my Stymphs: the razor-beaked, flesh-eating sparrow. It was marvelous, and I'm sure my living students would've found it just lovely. Unfortunately, Heaven didn't approve of my vision for a new and greater Woods, which is pointless, seeing as the Blue Forest is already populated with killer, puffball rabbits. My Woods would've been built upon cautionary tales, to whittle away at the simpletons who believe that as long as they're Good, they "deserve the world" as they're constantly told. The Evers were always entitled as they always received the benefit of the doubt automatically, a privilege my Nevers will never live to get for themselves. It's why they must take what the world deprives them of, which I can understand to an extent. [resentment creeps into his voice.] After all, I nearly got what I wanted, only for it to slip through my fingers. So, instead, my Nevers are trapped with a daft leader and just languish under a losing streak, as far as I can tell.

Besides, my title isn't "guardian angel." Heaven wanted to assign me to a post as a patron of travelers and physicians, but I declined, and took up record-keeping duties since, for the time being, I don't wish to see anyone. I'm not content with menial tasks, but there haven't been any other offerings worth my time, aside from staging a coup, whether it be a coup d'état or coup de grâce for a certain someone, well... I haven't decided yet.

However, I do hope that my brother's still around when the Second Coming rolls around. I'd be all too satisfied to see the dire look on his face as he trembles when I tap him on the shoulder. Then, I'd drag him to a punishment equal to his worldly crimes in whichever circle of Hell happens to be his final destination, all while the rest of the apocalypse roars around us... Something to look forward to, I suppose. The other angels tell me not to be so sure, or that I won't want justice by that point. But however long it takes, I'll be here. Waiting for my moment in that dying sun.

[Rafal likes to think he's moved past earthly proceedings, but in reality, he's still probably bitter, begrudging, and unforgiving (so far), and would prefer to think of himself as beyond trifles like mortal lives that aren't his. He probably just needs time to settle and accept his death. Eventually, he'll reform further though, and grow into his Goodness.]

Rafal: Who is this case of yours? [You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to.]

Do whatever you'd like with Rhian. I'm not his protector any longer, and he’s more than capable of "defending" himself. Just let me take his soul once he dies, and we'll have a deal. [He extends a hand pulsing with sorcery to you to shake.] A contractually-sealed deal.

[crossdressingdeath]

Morrigan as the self-proclaimed "elven lore expert" doesn't even work with a human Inquisitor because she doesn't really know what she's doing. She brings to mind someone who discovers some ancient room, and the mere discovery of it makes her think she's special. Bonus points if she also found some trinkets, and by finding them, she considers herself the rightful owner and "expert" on all things about them. Like, no real knowledge, just a desire to preserve ancient stuff that she has no idea what it does. A human Inquisitor should be able to question her knowledge like any Dalish elf, but no one is allowed to, so.. she gets to flaunt her non-existent knowledge and it is irritating.

It's an annoying thing that applies to a lot of DAI's writing, where... Morrigan being so full of herself and thinking that stealing one book from the Dalish made her smarter than them could've been fine as a character flaw! Hell, the game even gently nudges at that with the moment where if Quiz has the arcane knowledge perk—which has the description "A detailed study of magic and the places and creatures that interact with it"—their training allows them to immediately clock that the Well has a magical geas on it, something Morrigan is completely flabbergasted by because she had no idea. There's also a moment earlier where Morrigan is confused by the presence of wolf statues outside the temple; Lavellan and Solas aren't, but if Lavellan explains why the Dalish do that Morrigan completely dismisses it as silly Dalish superstition and so meaningless even though "okay this is the reasoning that has been passed down to me, so it's the best guess I've got for why my ancestors did it" is in fact way better than anything Morrigan can figure out (which is... nothing), a solid line of reasoning to follow, and a decent guess in general. We haven't heard the full reasoning at this point but based on what we know about Solas and Mythal and the Evanuris the Dalish story probably isn't far off the mark! But instead of any acknowledgement of that Morrigan's complete dismissal of Lavellan's explanation as worthless superstition that has nothing to do with the decisions of Lavellan's ancestors is allowed to stand unchallenged.

And it really drives me nuts that the game just lets Morrigan's claim that she's a real expert stand, because it could have been really interesting if they'd done something similar to what they do with Solas's spirit friend where Lavellan can understand the dialogue but no one else can because it's in elven. It makes sense for a human, dwarf or Qunari to take Morrigan at her word; they're told she's an expert, and elven religion and magic aren't things they likely would've studied. But Lavellan should absolutely be able to recognize she's full of shit. Especially mage Lavellan, I will never be over the fact that Dalish mages are priests but mage Lavellan has nothing exclusive to them to say about visiting the temples of their gods (not that Lavellan in general gets to say much about visiting Evanuris temples but y'know). I made a post a while ago about how great it would be if Solas and Lavellan could fuck with Morrigan by lying outright about what the writing in the temple says and watching her go along with everything they say because she absolutely cannot read more of it than the ancient elf or the Dalish elf who seems unusually fluent in the language (and unusually fluent for a Dalish elf is insanely fluent for anyone else) and doesn't want to admit that she can't tell what it says.

At the end of the day Morrigan is an "expert" just because very few people know anything about the eluvians. I don't know how active the Veil Jumpers are at this point in the timeline, so the only people I can say with confidence understand anything about them (discounting ancient elves like Solas and Mythal) are Merrill and Briala. And I mean... Merrill repaired and purified a Blighted eluvian on her own (Morrigan, for context since The Last Court was taken down and not everyone played it, required the help of the incredible Serault glassworks and her eluvian wasn't even Blighted as far as we know) and Briala from what I understand (still haven't read TME, I keep meaning to) controlled a decent chunk of the network for at least a while. Both of them make Morrigan look at best unimpressive in comparison; look at them, and then remember that Morrigan's claim to knowing more about the eluvians than the Dalish is that she found one and fixed it... using a book... that she stole... from the Dalish. It's a combination of the bad vibes of this human woman claiming she knows more than the elves about their own history, the fact that the only knowledge we've seen her collect on the subject is one book that she stole from the Dalish, and the way Quiz can show her up with basically zero effort and the game just brushes past that without acknowledging that it's a massive blow to her credentials. If they'd acknowledged that she clearly doesn't know as much as she thinks she does or had her admit that to some extent she's figuring it out as she goes (and fucking listen to the people around her who know more than her, the way she belittles the Dalish when Lavellan offers an explanation for why there are Fen'Harel statues at the temple—which is more explanation than Morrigan offers, by the way—really makes me want to punch her) it would've been fine! Either acknowledge that her being so sure she knows best is a flaw in her character instead of trying to pretend she's right or have her admit she doesn't know what's best but does know more than a lot of people and wants to help as best she can; the way they handled it is just incredibly messy and really put me off ever seeing her in a game again.