#1647 words

[pink-tk-a-latte]

The fingerprint indents on Bernini’s sculpture make me insane and it’s not for the reasons you may imagine

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hii this is not a request (unless u want it to be *wink wink*) just a horny thot i had that i needed to share lol but imagine frank’s girl having a rough day or being super down and frank saying “use me” to her while she’s on top and just passionate times ensue

a/n: okay but this turned out so mind-meltingly domestic and hot uuurrggghhhh

word count: 1647

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Switching the light off, you stepped out of the small bathroom. Glancing over at Frank as he plugged his phone into the charger at the bedside table, he asked quietly, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Crossing the room, you shook your head, “no,” and he reached for you, tenderly pulling your frame towards him. Curling your arms around his head, you hugged his seated figure back, “I don’t wanna talk tonight because if I do then I’ll just cry a bunch and get a massive headache…” you ran your fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp soothingly as you exhaled heavily, “I just wanna feel better.” 

As he tilted his head up to look at you, you only gazed at his gentle expression a moment before you leaned down and pressed your lips to his. 

The soft goodnight kiss soon grew and morphed into something more as your arms tangled around his neck and he instinctively pulled you into his lap. As his frame slowly began to sink down against the mattress, taking you with him for the ride, his warmth felt so good that you couldn’t help but melt down against him completely. 

When his fingers found the muscles along your spine and soothingly pressed down, a low groan escaped your lips and vibrated against the kiss as he continued to massage your back.   

Sighing moans seeped from your lungs as your hips instinctively rolled down against his. 

You knew each other so well at this point, that words weren’t always necessary in situations like this. He knew what the shiver down your spine meant, just as you knew what meaning lied behind his tongue when it lavishly danced against your own. 

When the flame had sparked into such a fierce fire that you were only moments away from ripping each other’s sleepwear off, a breathy prayer escaped Frank’s lips.

“Use me.”

You didn’t pull back, only hazily lingered in his warmth as you hummed, “huh?” your nose ghosting against his own. 

“I wanna help you, make you feel better,” his hands swooped up to the sides of your face and drew you back enough for his gaze to catch yours, “so, use me,” his words caused your eyes to flicker back at him, “what do you want, huh? Because you just say the word and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.”

A soft sigh flowed from your lips as you gazed down at him in adoration, “can you make me forget about everything? Turn my brain off… even just for a little while…”

“And how would you like me to do that, sweetheart?”

Offering him another roll of your hips, you breathed, “I think you already know,” and seized his lips once more. 

Your nightgown fluttered and rode up with his movements as his broad palms brushed up and down the curve of your frame, occasionally curling around your bottom and grazing his light touch over your underwear.  

Though suddenly, a breathy yelp tumbled out of you as Frank yanked you further up the bed, sculpting you till your thighs were planted on either side of his face. Curling his arms around your hovering hips, he firmly pulled them down. 

“O-oh…” a shaky sigh escaped your lips as his sloppy kisses soddened your covered core.

You reached out to the headboard for support as Frank’s sturdy nose nudged against your clit. Tightening his grasp on your hips, he gently began to move them down against his hot mouth till you slowly began to take over and grind down against his efforts. 

“Oh, fuck,” he soon groaned when he lifted you slightly off of him. His puffs of breath only fanned across your saliva-soaked underwear a moment before he yanked you off completely, “come here,” and flipped you around, readjusting himself so that he sat up against the headboard and had you slotted in between his thighs, your spine pressed up against his chest as he moulded you against him. Reaching down, he adjusted your legs, cracking you open and planting either one of your feet on the outer side of his knees. Casting his glance down over your shoulder, “ahh, look at that,” his warm touch travelled up your inner thigh before it found your panties, briefly tugging the clinging cotton up till the gusset dug deliciously into you. 

As he let the fabric spring back, all of his fingertips on that faintly balled-up fist swooped down to tickle you over the cotton, drawing feather-light circles that caused your frame to squirm from how good it felt. His lips nipped at the pulse thrumming on the side of your neck, even as he eventually ceased his caress with a playful tap against your puff. 

“Take them off,” he whispered in your ear as you felt him shift lightly behind you, craning over to the bedside table as you wiggled the pour panties down your legs. Fishing a bottle of lube out of the drawer, he then squeezed a dollop onto the pads of his fingers.

It wasn’t like you really needed it after all of his wonderful caresses, but a little added slickness never hurt no matter how ready you were, the only thing it ever managed to accomplish was increase your pleasure, and that was never something to deny yourself off, especially when it was just within arm’s reach.  

Your head tilted and your cheek smooshed against Frank’s chest as his fingers curled inside of you. His other curled around you as well, squeezing the softness of your tits through the thin material of your nightgown and nearly cradling you in the process as he slowly pumped two thick digits inside of you. 

“Oh, you’re so warm…” Frank’s deep voice rumbled softly behind you as his thumb stretched up to roll your clit. 

Tilting your chin, your lips parted as you gazed up at him. Curling your fingers around the nape of his neck, you drew him down enough to steal a kiss, his hot tongue swiftly sneaked out to join the party as you slowly turned your frame. 

Slipping his fingers out of your cunt, his touch stayed near your centre as he then lifted you up into his lap. Clawing needily at his dark boxers to free his cock, in a heartbeat you found yourself slowly sinking down upon it, his firm grip around you doing all of the work. 

“O-oh my god,” your eyes fluttered as he slowly eased you down, “I always kinda forget how fucking big it actually is until you put it in.”

Your grasp slid further up till you cupped each one of his scruffy cheeks, lowering your forehead to his as you trembly blew out short breaths of adjustment. 

“Well, I never forget just how incredible you feel,” one of his thumbs swirled over your skin as the rest of his digits dug into your flesh, leaving Frank-shaped imprints in the plush of your ass, “fucking amazing…”

You didn’t have to do a thing except let yourself sink into the sensation as Frank began to move you. His arms flexed around you as he slowly lifted you up, dragging your pussy over every little detail of him before he brought your back down, his brawny embrace practically cradled you as he gently bounced you in his lap. 

After your cunt had creamed all over his cock and he’d held you there in his arms a moment, just littering your face with his kisses, he then lowered you down to lay on the bed.

Propping both a pillow beneath your head as well as one beneath your hips, your legs curled over his bent ones as he dragged the bulbous tip of his dick through your puffy petals, “you are so beautiful,” parting them lavishly as he uttered, “my Y/n…” before he slowly slid back inside, “my love…” sinking down on top of you so that he became your entire reality, “I love you so much, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, your legs curling up to hook around his back, “I love you too,” you felt your thighs begin to tremble on either side of him as he buried himself completely, “I love–, oh fuck…” as the length of him nuzzled impossibly deep within you, coherent words became awfully difficult to get out. 

He was so deep, you could feel him everywhere. And from the way that the tip of him kissed the deepest part of you with every euphoric roll of his hips, you were sure that if his comforting weight hadn’t been pressed so snugly against you, that you’d be able to glance down and spot a dull bulge form in your lower stomach with every single mind-melting thrust. 

But suddenly his intense and intoxicating movements eased and froze as he asked in a soft tone, “wow, wow, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, why did you stop?”

“Baby, you’re crying,” his thumb swiped over your misty cheek. 

“I am?” your brows furrowed fuzzily as you sniffled, “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry. I’m alright, I swear, you just feel so fucking good, I love you so much,” the words bubbled out of you like the tears that sprung from your eyes. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he gazed down at you as a gentle smile warmed his features, “you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, please just don’t stop, keep going, you’re so fucking deep.”

His face scrunched up in a heavenly expression as he rocked back into you, “I love you,” hovering right above you as he fucked you into oblivion, “I love you so much… I’m right here… you’re right here, with me… the day’s all done… just focus on this… focus on me… on how I feel… how you make me feel… nothing, and I mean nothing’s, gonna hurt you… I’ve got you… I’ll keep you safe… I’ll always keep you safe…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: He Came Home [Yandere Michael Myers x Reader]

Title: He Came Home [Yandere Michael Myers x Reader]

Synopsis: You're being stalked by the Boogeyman but no one believes you.

For Horrorfest request:

I'm so happy you write for Halloween omg 👀 can I request a stalker ish michael Myers, more yendere than I'm going to murder you brutally right away lol

Word Count: 1647

Notes: Yandere, stalking, death/killing (not reader); some graphic violence descriptions.

It’s someone playing a prank. People always do it around Halloween.

You shouldn’t make up stories using Michael Myers. It’s not funny. He really killed people, you know.

If you don’t have concrete evidence, we can’t do anything for you. It’s probably just some teen messing with you.. Keep your doors locked and call us if anything happens.

You’re being stalked by the Boogeyman and not a single person in your life, your whole damn town, believes you. And maybe there’s a reason for it, God knows that it wasn’t uncommon for people to pull pranks like this--to turn tragedy into mockery and entertainment.

Damn kids, and all that.

But it’s different now because it’s real and it’s happening to you. And you are not crazy or lying and this is not a prank. You’ve seen him more than once, a shadow at first, something you brushed off.

The next time, he was standing down the street, half hidden by a tree. But you saw him. And he saw you. And every muscle in your body had tensed before you whirled around and ran. It was a joke, a teenager with a morbid sense of humor, maybe one of your friends praying on your scaredy-cat tendencies. 

But then you saw him from your bedroom window, standing down below in the grass. 

And your kitchen window, behind the fluttering sheets you’d tacked up earlier in the day.

And you know, you just know, that one day he will be inside your house.

Coming for you.

--

No one believes you. But that doesn’t stop your friends from laughingly agreeing to have a sleepover to ease your worries, something none of you have done since you were teenagers. Only this time instead of sneaking booze from mom’s locked cabinet using the pilfered key and drinking until you saw stars, you were going to be stone-cold sober and sleeping with a knife.

If (when?) he came for you, you’d be ready. 

Glenn disappears first, after announcing that he’s heading out to the garage to grab a beer. Like he’s at some teenage kegger.

Your friends laugh when he doesn’t return--maybe he’s chugging them all and not saving any for the rest of us--but you start to tear up and Tina sighs and says she’ll go out to get them.

But Tina doesn’t come back, either.

The house is silent and it’s just you and Nancy, and Nancy is the sensible one. She won’t make jokes about what you say you’re experiencing, even if she’s keen to downplay it as a prank. She doesn’t dismiss Glenn and Tina not coming back as something silly. Instead, she locks the door to the garage and flicks off all the lights and grabs a baseball bat.

Don’t, you should say, don’t go looking for them. But you’re too afraid to look yourself and Nancy, Nancy is strong isn’t she? Strong and brave. She won’t do anything stupid. So she heads to the front door and tells you to lock it as soon as she leaves, then wait by the phone and call the cops if she isn’t back in a few minutes.

And you do, with fingers that fumble and sweat. The lock clicks hard and you run to the phone, hand trembling on the receiver so hard that you keep lifting it off and hearing little bursts of dial tone. 

You glance down at your watch, squinting in the dimness to see the time. It’s been a minute, maybe two. How long should you wait? Maybe Nancy was chewing them out, scolding them for scaring you. Yeah. She would do that. Then she’d make them come in and apologize, like she’d had to do before when they pushed your buttons too hard. 

This fantasy carries you through to the next minute, and the next, until the garage door bursts open, and you can hear the wood splintering and cracking, swiping away anything but an awful reality that sends your heart rate sky-high.

You should run, really, but it feels like your legs are stuck to the floor. Rooted like a tree, even though your hands are now shaking wildly. You dimly hear the dial tone and remember what you’re supposed to do, and your finger shoves itself into the rotary dial, twisting and twisting the local sheriff’s office--

Until the phone is ripped out of the wall like a piece of paper, and you turn around to see the real-life boogeyman standing in front of you. No longer far away and through glass, but flesh and blood, close enough to see, close enough to smell. 

Close enough that you can see the glint of a knife in his hand.

You can even see his eyes through the mask and meet his gaze, your own eyes wide with pinprick pupils, and his merely staring at you through the holes in this mask. You hear, softly enough, the sound of breathing; his or yours? 

A gasp is caught in your throat when he grabs your shirt and shoves you away from the ruined phone, hard enough to knock you off your feet. You land on the floor, but your legs no longer feel rooted, and you scramble to your feet and do the only thing you can do: run.

The ruined garage door is the path of least resistance, and you run through the doorway and grope for the railing but miss it. 

You trip down the stairs, landing on the concrete hard enough to make your palms sting and even bleed, but--no, that’s not your blood. That’s not your blood at all. The blood on your palm is thick and wet and when you look up, you see Nancy’s corpse sprawled out on the ground, face down, stab wounds oozing from her back. Tina and Glenn are behind her, both bleeding heavily from the chest. Tina’s red chest heaves and maybe her eyes look at you, but you can’t tell if she actually sees you.

“Oh,” you say, voice suddenly unrecognizable to your own ears. “Oh.”

And there’s a shadow above you, the shadow of shadows, and you don’t even have time to turn around as his hand grips the back of your shirt and pulls you backward. 

Words flash through you--I’m going to die--before there’s a dull awful pain at the back of your head (why the knife blunt?) and darkness overtakes everything in the world.

--

You don’t expect to wake up, but you do. 

And when you do, you’re sitting in an unfamiliar space full of dust and dirt. A simple room with nothing in it but a ragged blanket and some stray, dusty furniture--an old wooden chair, a wooden chest. The windows are boarded up, but you can tell it’s night-time.

A house that no one has been in for years, maybe. A house that has fallen into disrepair and ruin. There weren’t any houses like this in town proper, you knew, so you must be in the woods outside of town, where there were occasionally remnants of abandoned places. 

Why were you in the woods? Why were you in a house?

The thoughts are clear and simple, piercing through a swimming ache in the back of your head. You focus on these thoughts to keep you from passing out again. In the woods, in a house. In the woods, in a house. In the woods, in a house.

But why?

And then you remember. Michael Myers. Your friends. The blood. The pain.

As if on cue, there’s another sound in the house. A sound that is distinctly familiar, heavy footsteps and yes, it must have been his before--the sound of breathing. Soft and subtle, like a stray sound muffled through the wall. 

You move to stand on weakened legs, but keep yourself pressed back against the wall as the figure of Michael Myers walks and stands in the doorway.

It’s as if the air itself becomes thick and heavy with his presence, and you almost want to sit down again. But you force yourself to stay standing. At least if you’re standing, you have a chance to run, if you can.

But he doesn’t give you one, not at this moment, anyway. Instead he stays in the doorway and simply stares at you.

Long enough for your tongue to loosen, words coming out dry through your chapped lips. How long were you out, anyway?

“Why… why did you bring me here?”

No answer.

“Where are we?”

No answer.

Finally, you swallow spit, and ask a question that you don’t really want to be answered. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

You swear you hear him inhale through his nose, a short, thin sort of breath. 

He takes a step into the room. There’s nowhere for you to go, and you feel helpless sobs start to bubble up in your throat. You look down and there’s no knife--that you can see--but that doesn’t stop the visuals of your murdered friends and vague impressions of everyone you know who has been killed by him from flashing through your head.

He stops right in front of you. You half expect him to grab your neck and twist. Or grab your throat and squeeze.

But all he does is tilt his head slightly, looking at you through the holes in his mask. You wish you could erase the visual memory of his eyes, wish that you’d never seen them at all; the faraway impression that he had two big black holes was more merciful than this. 

And then his hand reaches out and touches your face, callused fingertips brushing against your cheek. 

His fingers leave behind traces of grime and your friends' dried blood. 

[abbyromanoff]

MOTHER NATURES TEARS AND FEARS

PAIRINGS: Little!Wanda Maximoff x Mommy!reader

WORD COUNT: 1647

WARNINGS: angst, comfort, little spaces, usage of mommy/momma in a non sexual way, thunder, lightning, harsh rain, oral fixation, lactation (not really tho), think that’s all :)

This is inspired by the tornado warnings we keep having in my town sooooo :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!!

Sounds of thunder flashed through your ears along with the harsh rain, it didn’t scare you, but the woman in your arms disagreed. She didn’t like loud noises, it brought back memories she wished to never remember. You knew of her fear, even if she tried to hide it to her best ability.

She was embarrassed to say that she, a twenty-one-year-old woman, was scared of mother nature’s tears and screams. You weren’t, so why should she?

“You ready for bed, angel?” It was nearly fifteen minutes past her bedtime and, while you usually wouldn’t let her do such a thing, you knew having her cuddled up in your arms with her favorite movie playing calmed her down in such situations. Her eyes were locked on the window where she could see puddles forming along with strikes of bright light. She jumped, holding her stuffed bear closer to her chest.

“Wanda?” Your calling of her name caught her attention, causing her to whip her head in your direction.

“You ready for sleepy time?” You repeated, receiving a shy nod after moments of silence. She crawled to the end of the couch and raised her arms, giving you free roam to grasp onto her waist and lift her into your arms. Her legs simultaneously wrapped around your hips as she used one hand to hold your shoulder while the other loosely held onto the bear. You kept your hold on her bottom, securing her weight as she bounced ever-so-slight with each step you took.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” You asked when settling her back down on the ground, tossing through her sets of pajamas until she stopped you on one of them. It had little seahorses with a pink background, and the words spelling “Sea you in the AM”, never failed to make her giggle. The shorts were a light blue and also adorned the little creatures on them.

“No, I’m okay.” She bit her lix anxiously, only to replace it soon after with her thumb as she suckled on the skin. You took a few steps and found yourself towering over her, giving her a hand to help her off the floor.

“Hey, stop that. Let me get you your paci, okay?” She nodded and, when your vision wasn’t rested on her, she quivered with fear from the loud, rippling noise that felt as though they were bursting through the walls.

“Here you go, baby.” You gave her a warm smile as her lips wrapped around the object, watching as it bobbed back and forth in her mouth.

You removed her current clothes and replaced them with the colorful set before helping her brush her teeth, praising her every few minutes for the small act. The softness you gave her almost made her forget about the one thing that had been haunting her all day, that was until you were getting ready to leave.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night with me?” You asked when tucking her in, the pink comforter hiding the soft blanket underneath.

“I’m a big girl, mommy, I’ll be okay.” You removed the pacifier to let her speak, smiling to yourself at her soft-spoken words. You handed her the same stuffed animal she had been holding onto all day, brushing the small bit of hair that was blocking her face and getting small giggles to erupt from her mouth.

“Oh, does that tickle, hm?” She thrashed around as you continued your actions, this time on other parts of her body. She tried pushing your hands away but failed due to your overpowering strength.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” You announced after a minute or two of this. She let out rushed breaths with an occasional chuckle still leaving her.

“Remember, I’m right next door if you get scared-”

“I’m not scared!”

“I know, I know, you’re a big girl, you don’t get scared. But, still, you’ll come to me if you need me?” You stuck out your pinky finger which she latched onto with her own, giving a toothy grin when you kissed your interlaced fingers.

“Alright then. Sweet dreams, my love, sleep well.” You traveled your peck to her forehead and did the same to her bear, Raspberry. It was a silly name, really, but Wanda loved it to death. She brought it everywhere, not caring for the judgemental stares in public.

“And goodnight, Raspberry, sweet dreams.” You turned on the night light that was plugged into the wall right next to her bedside table, causing little stars to shine on the ceiling. You turned off the lamp and exited with a blown kiss sent her way, she acted as though she caught it and brought it close to her heart. Then, she plummeted into darkness, the scary sounds from outdoors hadn’t stopped yet and weren’t going to for the next few hours.

“It’s okay, Raspberry, Mommy said it won’t get us, we’re safe.” She jumped once again when the noise seemed to get closer, her breath quickening as her heartbeat felt as though it was in a race. She gulped fearfully, pulling the blankets closer to her face as if it would block out the fear. But it failed to do so.

“It won’t get us from here, we’re safe.” She repeated the words you told her only hours ago. The more she was alone the more she found herself falling into a deep headspace. She felt cloudy, but it was as if the clouds were grey and had bolts of lighting coming from them. She curled her knees into her chest, forgetting the paci you left for her on the nightstand and sucking on her thumb. It was a bad habit of hers that she never seemed to let go of, one that you tried to ease her out of.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of sitting in her bed, crying and whimpering, hoping for it all to end, she gave in. She stood up on shaky legs, not caring to put on her fuzzy slippers as she rushed to your room, nearly tripping over herself before she knocked hurriedly on your door. She felt as though her chest was closing in on her, which only caused her to cry out more.

You were half asleep when you heard the noise, rushing out of bed as you instantly knew who it was. You opened the door right as she was about to knock again, your eyes locking with her sorrowful ones. She raced into your arms and you let her, rubbing her back softly as you shushed her softly.

“Shh, you’re okay, Mommy’s here.”

“M-Mommy?” She hiccuped, feeling your watchful gaze fall onto hers as you leaned back.

“That’s right, Mommy’s right here, you’re safe now.” She stuffed her head onto your shoulder, using her palm to wipe her tears as shame filled her.

“‘M sorry, Mommy, I thought I was a b-big girl.” You sat her down with you on the bed, letting her crawl onto your lap without complaint.

“Hey, don’t apologize, I understand. I’m not mad at you, okay?” She nodded, still not completely believing you.

“You’re such a brave and strong little girl, I’m so proud of you, baby.” You ran the pad of your thumb across her cheek soothingly, tears of your own starting to pool in your eyes as you listened to her whimpers.

“‘M so scared.” She mumbled, clawing at your back in order to keep you close. You kissed the side of her neck that was left uncovered, cooing softly as her hiccups continued. You patted her back as she bounced gently on your lap, causing a small yawn to tumble from her lips.

“I know, princess, I’m so sorry Mommy wasn’t there to protect you.” You knew she wanted to prove that she was able to do such things on her own and that she could keep herself safe, which was why you let her be and didn’t protest when she asked to sleep in her own bed. But you still felt a pang of roaming guilt, like you hadn’t done enough to keep her safe. All you ever wanted was to protect her from harm, yet you failed at doing so.

“C’mon, let’s get you into bed.” You laid her down softly, her body once again cuddling close into yours the moment you joined her.

“Please hold me, Momma.” You were already planning to do so before she asked. You placed one hand on her thigh that found itself resting over your waist, your free arm going to her back where you drew small shapes. Her stuffed animal was still clamped tightly in her hold, the fur pressing against your skin in feather-like touches.

Wanda played with the strap to your tank top, giving you a questioning look to which you nodded in response. She pulled down the clothing, your breasts freeing themselves and being hit by the cold air. She smiled giddily to herself before wrapping her lips around your hardened bud, feeling your fingertips that were placed on her back start to scratch softly at her scalp.

“Be careful with your teeth, baby.” You muttered when they brushed against your nipple, making a small gasp erupt out of you.

You noticed the tiredness in her eyes start to grow more as sounds drowned out, her only focus being on her caregiver. She felt blurry, and before she knew it, her eyes were closing for the last time that night. You grinned to yourself as she finally fell into a slumber, grabbing your phone as you played soft white sounds to cause calmness to float through her, even in her sleep.

“Goodnight, angel.” You kissed her forehead once more.

“Goodnight, Raspberry.” You kissed its forehead and sighed, letting your eyes close as you sunk into a deep resting state.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

a whisper in the autumn wind

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1647 | Read on AO3

A chill racks your body as you and Mark make your way through the cool night. You mentally curse, wishing you were wearing more layers, though you know anything more wouldn't have fit under the tactical vest that sits snugly around your torso.

Your heist partner doesn't seem to notice you shiver, busy making sure the coast is clear before proceeding and gesturing for you to follow.

You do your best to keep pace with your friend's manoeuvres as he darts an odd pattern through the museum, triggering a bout of slight nausea that causes you to stop in your tracks.

‘Hey, keep up!’ Mark whisper-yells, turning around just in time to miss you steadying yourself after a wave of dizziness.

Somehow you make it the rest of the way without collapsing or being seen, but you're now all too aware of the fatigue in your muscles and the soreness in your throat. Meanwhile, your partner in crime carefully but swiftly wraps the stolen artefacts and slips them into his bag.

Your prize this time? A series of ancient tablets that you plan to sell to an illegal collector. You can't imagine what practical use someone would have for these, but at the end of the day, a job's a job and money is money.

It is only on your way out, that you feel the tell-tale itch in your nose that you have been dreading all evening.

As you scrunch up your face, Mark looks at you in confusion.

‘Buddy, you've been acting off all night, what's up with you? You good?’

You nod, desperately wanting to move on and for this to be over with.

The first couple of sneezes you manage to quell without too much fuss, but you can already feel a larger one threatening your nostrils.

While crouched behind a display, hiding from some guards, comes the point at which you can no longer hide that you're suppressing sneezes.

‘Alright, we are so close to being scot-free— hey what are you —? You're not sick are you? Really? Now?!’

Mark shakes his head back and forth with a string of frantically whispered "no"s as you fight your reflexes, but it's futile.

The sneeze that finally escapes you is resounding, and there is a beat of stunned silence and lack of movement from every party involved before you and Mark react first, bolting out the exit with the guards in pursuit.

It's a mad dash with a lot of ducking and diving, adrenaline probably the only thing keeping your body going, but by some miracle the two of you manage to lose them, eventually making it to where your getaway vehicle is parked some ways away so as to not be suspicious.

Piling into the passenger seat, exhaustion hits you all at once and you're thankful that Mark is the one driving. You pull off your gloves and hat and he does the same.

With no one following you, your partner drives cautiously in order to not draw any unwanted attention, careful to abide by traffic laws and always on the lookout for cops.

‘There's tissues and water in the glove box,’ he says after a few minutes, expression hard-lined and inscrutable, eyes focused on the road.

There's a thick tension in the car, uncharacteristically quiet save for the limited traffic outside and the rumble of the engine. You blow your nose, and it feels awkward in the silence, only broken on occasion by your sniffing. You take a sip of water, grateful for the coolness against your chapped lips and dry throat.

Eventually, you decide you don't want to endure the tension any longer, and you're too tired to let your little mishap turn into an argument; it was your fault, after all.

‘I'm sorry.’

Mark sighs. He glances at you, then back to the road.

‘It's okay. It's not your fault you're sick, it's just… Why didn't you tell me?’

‘Didn't want to ruin the heist.’ You laugh, but it's strained and weak, void of any real mirth or humour. ‘But I guess I kinda messed up on that anyway, huh?’

He lets out a small huff of laughter. ‘Yeah, no shit.’

You look down at your hands, folded in your lap.

‘Hey, it's not a big deal,’ he consoles. ‘We got what we came for and we didn't get caught. That's about as much as we can say for most of our heists.’

Your gaze stays downcast; he does make a good point, but it doesn't stop you from feeling a little guilty.

Mark must notice, because he reaches across to place a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, other hand still keeping the wheel steady.

You put your own hand over his, grateful for the comfort. You close your eyes and will away the growing dizziness and brain fog, the warmth from his now ungloved palm reassuring.

‘Look buddy, I need you to know I'm not mad or anything, just a bit upset that you didn't tell me in the first place… and annoyed at myself for not catching onto the fact sooner. I just thought… I thought you felt like you could be honest with me about this stuff.’

There's an undeniable hurt in his tone that makes you look up at him. He is still intently focused on the road ahead, despite there being rather few other people and cars out at this time of night, and you know it's out of choice — he takes his eyes off the streets in favour of looking your way for much longer than necessary when he wants to. Usually you'd chide him for doing so, but right now you can't help but wish he'd properly meet your eyes, just for a moment.

‘No – I can. I can tell you nearly everything, I – I'm sorry.’ You take a steadying breath, organising your thoughts. ‘You were just – really looking forward to this one, and there was no better day for it, everything lined up perfectly for us to go tonight. This stupid cold had to turn up and it started out as just a sore throat, no big deal, and well… I thought I could stick it out a little longer despite feeling like crap, but…’ You trail off, turning to look out the window as he approaches your shared base, returning his hand to the wheel.

He pulls up, setting the car to park, and finally turns his head to fully face you, placing a hand on your knee to get your attention.

He says your name, and it sounds like a term of endearment. For someone so bold and often brash, he can be surprisingly tender, a side of him that rarely anyone but you gets to see. ‘I rely on you, and you can rely on me… but part of that means we have to tell each other these things.’

‘Yeah, OK…’

‘Pinky promise?’

‘What are you, five?’

‘I'm serious,’ he says firmly, holding out his finger to emphasise the point.

Smiling, you hook your pinky around his own and shake on it, but not without rolling your eyes first.

‘Good,’ he says, pleased. ‘Now that that's settled, let's get inside, hm?’

While Mark retrieves the loot and stows it for the time being, you let yourself in, settling on the small couch in the living room. You take off your shoes and unzip your vest, easing it off your aching limbs.

The nausea and dizziness seems to have passed but you feel hot, yet a little shivery, and you're on the verge of nodding off when Mark appears in front of you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. If it's even possible, you feel incrementally hotter with his touch as you return his concerned gaze through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

‘I think you've got a fever, bud. C'mon, time for bed.’

You groan in protest, too drained to move, instead letting your head fall forward to plop against his chest, the soft texture of his plain black sweater a comforting feel against your fevered skin.

‘Oh boy, what am I gonna do with you…?’ he murmurs, bringing a hand up to pat your hair. He speaks softly, and with such affection that your heart would probably be doing somersaults if you weren't so tired and ill.

‘Alright, upsy-daisy.’ In one quick motion, he picks you up, carrying you bridal style to your room, and for once you don't object.

‘Hey, you better not make me sick too,’ he warns without an ounce of actual distaste, as you practically nuzzle your face into him.

He gently lays you in bed, tucking covers around you.

‘I'll be right back.’

You instantly miss his presence, tugging the blanket up a little around yourself.

He returns before long with a box of tissues, the bottle of water you'd been drinking and some painkillers, leaving them by your bedside. He places a wet face cloth beside you as well.

‘I know you're probably feeling cold but I don't want your temperature to get too high, so use this, and keep drinking water.’

You nod, about ready to drift to sleep.

‘Call me if you need anything, OK? I won't be far.’

‘Don't you want to sleep?’

‘I will in a little while, but you can still call me.’

‘Ok,’ you reply appreciatively. ‘Thanks for… looking after me.’

‘Someone's got to.’ He smiles at you gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

After a pause, he gets up to leave, pulling the door closed but leaving a gap the width of his face.

‘Rest up, buddy.’

He makes a quick kissing sound in your direction before shutting the door fully, his footsteps receding down the hallway.

Your face feels very warm.

Must be the fever, you think, placing the towel on your forehead with a yawn, before swiftly falling asleep.

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have eight amazing timeskip/future fics recced! Some skip ahead a handful of decades, while some skip ahead centuries, but all of them are wonderfully heart wrenching and hit just the right spot. Check them out under the cut, and as ever, comment or kudos if you like them!

The Matter of Lot 19 by pagerunner (10102,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Keyleth returns to Whitestone after many, many years to see about a unique and precious clock that's up for auction. But she's not the only one intending to bid...and her competitors might not only be interested because of the clock's connection to a certain legendary de Rolo.

Reccer says: Beautiful and Bittersweet and has a lot of great older Kiki and Sun Tree moments.

Library Magic by westwind (2739,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

After the Mighty Nein's adventuring days are over, Caleb travels with a library in an enchanted wagon. He comes across a stranger who's nevertheless familiar.

Reccer says: I liked it

The More Things Change by FinnsKeeper (4922,Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings:

Beau is hurt. The best chance they have of saving her is asking for her to be consecuted

Reccer says: A heartbreatking but fascinating take on the nein being consecuted

Unexpected and Predictable by alullabytoleaveby (2131,General) Warnings: Pairings: Verin Thelyss & Caleb Widogast

The last thing Caleb expects to hear on a rainy Tuesday evening is the sound of a knock at his door and Verin Thelyss, Ambassador of the Bright Queen to the Dwendalian Empire, on his doorstep. But he should have expected it. After all, Essek had already prepared for this eventuality.

Reccer says: I love this glimpse of Verin, and Caleb being able to explain his relationship to Essek's brother.

What Makes a Home? by literalfuckinggarbage (3188,General) Warnings: Child abuse, abusive parenting Pairings: Beau & TJ

TJ turns up on Beau's doorstep after running away from Kamordah. Beau takes care of her little brother.

Reccer says: It's really lovely seeing an older Beau step up to being an older sister and the relationship between her and TJ is incredibly sweet. They have a rapport, they banter, and the love that's grown between them over the years is plain in each word between them. The ending is so wonderful too and it's a concept I really should rotate more.

cycles by justsleepwalkin (500,General) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings: Caduceus Clay & Essek Thelyss

Caduceus and Essek take a walk among the falling leaves and have a talk about endings and beginnings.

Reccer says: Beautiful and atmospheric - a perfect moment between the two of them.

From the Mixed-Up Files of The J. Lavorre Catalogue Raisonné by renquise (2328,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

An art history report on the famous artist Jester Lavorre

Reccer says: I adore epistolary fics and this perfectly scratches that itch. Seeing what people might say about Jester and her friends centuries after they are gone is a treat!

a little birdie told me by Ink_Beneath_Her_Fingernails (1647,Not Rated) Warnings: None Pairings:

Kiri absently wonders if the Gentleman somehow had the foresight to keep her name out of their ears, and how he'd managed it for all these years. (Or: The mob boss Kiri we all deserve.)

Reccer says: Mob Boss Kiri - what's not to love?

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring prank fics!

Then, it'll be Ashton focused, Hair Care, and Pre-Campaign!

Any fics coming to mind?  Well, then use this form to submit!

If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[trafficlife]

Dance Among the Embers (Revisit a Life I Still Remember)

Even though the Relation had burned, Joel and Etho's relationship became stronger in spite of it all.

And, because of it all, Etho finally understands why the universe made them soulmates.

word count: 1647

ao3 link

Etho had done this dance before, with the fervent flames as his stage. 

It happened so long ago but watching the Relation burn down brought back so many memories. Memories of a simpler time, when nobody expected to return for another round, much less two.

And Etho wasn’t usually one to dwell in the past. But the similarities were so uncanny, that it almost felt scripted.

****

It was a beautiful tree Etho had built in the center of the village. 

It was a dark oak tree, considered a rarity in this world, and Etho was so proud of his work. He didn’t think anyone would dare to burn it down the very first week.

That was his first mistake.

If given a match, almost every contestant would light it and throw it away, to let “nature” take its course. And usually, “nature” directed itself toward another contestant’s most precious symbol.

Something changed inside Etho, as he watched his tree disintegrate. He was bitter and cold and vengeance was making a nice home in his brain. But he didn’t take it too far. Apart from a few shenanigans, he knew to keep it cool. He knew how to play but, perhaps if he were smarter, he could've won. 

****

Etho glanced back at their work, lighting up in pride. "The ship burns, everything burns," Joel had declared. And he was certainly true to his word. The server had completely dissolved into flames, smoke, and embers billowing in the air. The wildfire spread fast, leaving nothing but destruction and ashes in its path. 

It was breathtaking.

Etho never felt so good being red. And he had Joel to thank for that. Joel earned a reputation for being unstable and violent, always bloodthirsty but never satisfied, desiring to cause as much mayhem as he could.  

The soulbond always united their emotions. But their current status amplified their emotions tenfold and Etho never felt Joel so intensely before. He never felt his soulmate's emotions like this. All the thoughts of vengeance and fire and bloodlust were as overwhelming as it was enticing. Joel would continue to play with fire, even if it meant getting burned, and Etho would follow him to the end of the game, to the ends of this world, even if he burned as well.

Some would call Joel reckless. Etho calls him beautiful.

They returned to the remains of their ship, the smell of burning dark oak lingering in the air. Etho watched Joel the entire time. Actually, it was more accurate to say Etho was admiring him. 

Joel's nails were painted with dried blood and his ruby red eyes were wide. There was a permanent maniacal look in his eyes, an indicator of his diminishing sanity. As terrifying as they were, Etho couldn't help getting lost in them, lost in Joel's presence as a whole. He drank in the sight of his partner, his soulmate, standing there like a God with the flames of his havoc in the background, and Etho was down here, worshipping him, and—

And… Man, was Etho in love with him.

Joel rolled up his sleeves, to reveal faint burns on his arms, and crafted additional flints and steels. Etho had seen the burns several times. Sometimes, he’d absent-mindedly take Joel’s hand and gently brush his thumb over the wounds, mostly for comfort. He didn’t think anything of the burns at first, just that they hadn’t completely disappeared from the previous games. But suddenly, his mind was racing with thoughts and more memories from the past. However, it was Joel's thoughts that Etho was seeing now.

This… Never happened before. 

Memories were seldom shared between soulmates. This only happened if they had an inseparable bond, outside of the tether that connected their lives. 

(Etho’s heart skipped not just beats, but an entire symphony at the implications of that. But if Joel felt that too, it was only the adrenaline and not the shared sensations.)

****

Joel was surrounded by the fire, his roof encased in an inferno. His skin was already scorched from his first death, red and covered with welts that hadn’t completely healed. But he couldn’t escape the fire. He couldn’t put it out fast enough. And he couldn’t heal fast enough. Actually, he couldn’t heal at all. He was too focused on putting out the fire, despite his roof already being a lost cause. Wherever he turned,  there was another flame to step into. 

Below Joel, watching the entire spectacle with a satisfied smirk on their face was Cleo, who was satisfied at first, until Joel mistepped and burst into flames. And he came back, like a phoenix rising from his ashes, but he was one step closer to his grave. 

Joel couldn’t believe that this was all over a missile, that didn’t even work as intended—

Wait. A missile?

Oh. Oh.

That was Etho’s fault, wasn’t it?

It was Etho's plan to fire a missile at the Crastle. He got Joel roped into it. The missile was disarmed before it could set off but Cleo was still furious. Like Joel, Cleo enjoyed playing with fire but was better at not getting burned. Like Etho, Cleo knew how to stay frosty but she was better at winning. Unlike the two of them, however, Cleo knew when to stop getting revenge.

Joel and Etho didn't know when to stop. They didn't want to stop. They'd put an end to this when the universe puts an end to their relationship. And Etho hoped that wouldn't happen for a long time.

“I know what you’re thinking, Etho.” Joel’s voice snapped Etho out of his thoughts. Now that his bloodlust was satisfied (for now), he sounded much gentler and his voice was softer. “Thinking about the burns you gave me, right?”

“Well- Yeah.” Etho walked over to Joel and took his hand, gently running his fingers over the burns. They melted into his skin so well but they didn’t diminish his beauty in any way, shape, or form. In fact, they only enhanced it.“I don’t think I ever apologized for causing them.”

Joel smirked. “Don’t have to. I got burned so many times, it’s honestly ridiculous. Remember Dare to Flare?” 

Etho chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you gotta give it to Tango. He knew how to make it sound enticing.” 

“He did, he did. And, well, you know me. Always looking for a little danger to spice things up.”

Etho raised a brow, intertwining his fingers with Joel’s. “Maybe that’s why I’m your soulmate,” he hummed, “since I’m so dangerous.”

“Yeah, right…” Joel leaned his head against Etho’s chest, the flames from afar continuing to spread and inch closer to them. “I think I’m the dangerous one here. Dangerous and tall and handsome—”

“And crazy,” Etho interrupted. “You are literally up to my chest right now.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “You could at least pretend. Plus, you can’t say you don’t find my craziness at least”— he rested his hand on Etho’s shoulder—“A little attractive.”

Etho shrugged, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” He lightly grasped Joel’s hip, taking a step backward. Joel reciprocated, a grin slowly appearing on his face. His eyes glittered slightly, like polished gemstones in the light, and Etho’s heart fluttered at the sight. 

They swirled around, the flames in the distance catching up to them. The fire was their stage and, as opposed to succumbing to it, they controlled it, together. It was a dance with death, but Etho and Joel were taking the lead. They’d take this world, hollow it out, and burn its remains while dancing on its ashes. Etho never thought he wanted this. Then again, he never thought he wanted Joel. But the universe proved him wrong.

And he didn’t mind that. 

Etho couldn’t keep his eyes off Joel. He didn’t want to because how had he spent these past few games, not giving Joel anything more than a second glance? How did it take him this long to notice Joel, to notice how seamlessly they worked together? And how could he not admit that he loved Joel, that he’d do anything he asked of him?

Void, did Etho fall for Joel. But he didn’t just fall hard. He fell directly onto bedrock.

Lost in a daze, Etho leaned down to kiss him but was stopped by Joel’s finger. “What, did you forget about the mask?” Joel asked, lips curled up into a smirk.

Ah, right. Etho forgot to take off his mask so often, it was as though it became a part of him.

“Yes, I did,” Etho said as he pulled down his mask. “But you distracted me.”

“Ah! So you do find me attractive!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did.”

Etho tilted his head, slowly closing the gap between them. “I haven't made my case yet.”

“You don’t have to. I already won, just by being my intelligent and handsome sel—” Joel was interrupted by Etho’s lips, pressing against his own. Etho smirked against Joel’s lips. The message was clear: I’m the winner here. 

And Etho had won, as cheesy as it sounds. Though the Relation ship was reduced to ash, their literal relationship felt stronger and more fortified than before. And to Etho, that was a better prize than making it to the end of this game. Now, don’t get him wrong, winning would be nice. But even if their allies backstabbed them, even if they burned together because that was their destiny at this point… That didn’t matter to him.

What mattered was that they were still together, still strong.

And they were both aware that, as the captains, they would both go down with the ship. As long as they went down together, and took the world down with them… it would still be a perfect ending to their story.

[a-d-nox]

telemachus, hero's son (asteroid 15913)

Telemachus was the son of Odysseus and Penelope. Notably, Odysseus attempted to get out of going to war with the Trojans to be with him and Penelope - but that didn't work out. For years, Telemachus was raised solely by his mother. When he came of age, he travelled the Mediterranean to find his lost father. Inspired by the words of Athena, Telemachus visited Nestor then Menelaus and Helen all of whom told him stories of his father. At last (because that is quite the distance between the two visits), he reached Eumaeus who was hosting the disguised Odysseus at the time. When Odysseus exposed his true identity, father and son set off to kill the suitor of Penelope. IN MY OPINION Telemachus in your chart can indicate a) being raised solely by your mother/maternal figure, b) your curiosity about your father, c) your loyalty to your father, and/or d) your protectiveness of your mother.

i encourage you to look into the aspects of telemachus along with the sign, degree, and house placement. for the more advanced astrologers, take a look at the persona chart of telemachus AND/OR add the other characters involved to see how they support or impede telemachus!

OTHER RELATED ASTEROIDS: athene (881), pallas (2), odysseus (1143), ulysses (5254), penelope (201), helena (101), menelaus (1647), and nestor (659)!

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see a specific post or mythical asteroid next!

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[tsunderetypea]

Little Slayer 5| TLoVM x platonic!reader

[A/N]: Hey y’all, I hope you are enjoying the series so far. I’m trying to work on Part 6 but I’m running out on ideas on what to do or say so I thought it would be interesting to ask you the readers on what do you think should go on next and if you have any funny-liners to add in haha!

Please let me know in the comments! Now onward to the story!

—

Word Count| 1647

Link to [Part 4] | Link to [Part 6]

“I can’t believe it… they’re gone.” came the mournful response of the performing bard, Vax seeing his sorrowful expression as he himself was in disbelief that you had been taken just as fast.

However as he thought about what they should do at that moment, he noticed something was afoot.

Or rather something was missing.

“Surrender? They don’t know it.” a slightly familiar voice spoke. The eyes of the party members sparked in recognition of the voice, though their faces were in disbelief when they saw who had spoken it. “Impossible…” glowered the master of cremation as he lowered his head to look at you as you stood mere kilometers away holding Mythcarver in your hand.

You had managed to get it. ‘By the gods…’ thought the rogue as he could feel the corners of his lips quirk into a proud smile.

“Not ‘impossible’-- ‘I’M’ possible…” you corrected. With a smirk on your lips and with the vestige in hand; you directed Mythcarver to his feet. The dragon let out a guttural growl before looking down to see pouches of something on his left foot that alighted at that moment.

You knew that gunpowder would come in handy.

Multiple explosions reverberated in the area; Keyleth, Pike, Scanlan, and Vax moved out of the way as Scargone was knocked over by his injured foot.

Grog and Vex looked on with incredulous looks on their faces though the half-giants turned into one of glee. “See I told you she can vibrate…” he said proudly as the others recovered from the ground.

You happened to hear him and chuckled at his response but that laughter went away when Scargone set his sights on you.

His eyes seemed to try to read your figure as now that he was able to see you by the light of his flame that their was an air of familiarity surrounding you.

Of course you had no clue on what he thought of at that moment as without a second to waste you charged toward him with Mythcarver at the ready.

Vax however did not want you to further engage. “Scanlan, Keyleth get them!” he ordered as he saw your figure charge at the destructive monster.

From what you could tell all you could hear was white noise as you focused your attention on your oversized opponent who sent out another fury of blue. You dropped down skidding in time to now slide under his belly.

“Where are they?” Scargone hissed as his flame diminished from sight, sensing that you had evaded his attack. He lowered his head in search of you even though you quietly crept out from under his belly to now under his head. What you had in mind since you had the vestige was going to top all the stupidest things you had done so far.

But it would also give Vox Machina an opening when they saw what you would do next even though you couldn’t lie to yourself that it was a little bit scary.

Okay, a lot scary.

‘This is so scary?! Why did I think this was a good idea!?’ you admonished yourself as you tried to keep yourself going on the adrenaline, your lungs desperate for air as much as you tried to stifle your deep breaths. You couldn’t give way to your position no matter how much head damage the beast had as you waited for the exact moment to exact your attack.

You could see it approaching as when he was close enough to the ground, you darted out and climbed as fast as you ever climbed on top of his snout.

“That kid has more balls than I do…” the words spilled out of Scanlan’s mouth as they all witnessed you climb on top of the beast’s nose. “You got that right,” echoed Pike as they saw at first glance how Scargone was trying to make you let go of him.

“But why go on his… nose?” grunted Keyleth as she summoned more vines to pin the lizard’s wings. But her comment brought something to mind for the Matron’s champion as he looked onward to the still resisting beast though more importantly on you.

Then it hit him.

“I see what they are going to do, be on the ready..!” he informed as he ducked out of the way from a near fiery death. “I’m still trying to hold him down!” yelled the air Ashari. “Whatever you have planned, do it without me.”

“I’ll still stay with you,” Pike voiced as she still attempted to assist with all her being. “No Pike, we’re going to need you.” expressed the half-elf as he beckoned for both gnomes to follow after him. The cleric was hesitant, her eyes looking over to see if the Druid would be alright with her leaving only to see her send a look that confirmed it. It was only the four of them now that Percy, Grog and Vex were out of commission.

—

“GAHH!” you screamed as you tried to hold on.

“You insolent bitch! I’m going to roast you and eat you when I have my claws on you!” you heard Scargone say to you.

“I don’t taste delicious sorry! I think I have diseases!… the plague even!” you shouted as you held on to some nobs on his snout, all the while still holding onto Mythcarver. “Not the point you bastard!” he hissed as he threw his head in an attempt to bite your flailing limbs off or at most get the vestige out of your hands.

You had had it. “Then have tetanus then!” with a war cry that mostly sounded like a scream, you swung Mythcarver jabbing it by your luck a through-and-through into his nostrils.

Scaergone howled in utmost agony as your right arm was bathed in his blood.

Though by his distraction of pain, he had no time to react to the forces assembling behind him.

With a shout of “now”, thanks to Vax’s speed he was able to get Scanlan and Pike to Scargone’s skull and because of their sudden force; their attack was more deadly when they struck him again for the last time.

The dragon let out a wail as he tried to keep his head up until several gunshots penetrated his already wounded weak spots made his once towering head crash to the ground with a loud thud.

The trio having heard the gunshots looked up to see Percy towering over them on another nearby building, blood streaming down his head as he lowered his pepperbox.

“I thought this would never end…” he managed to huff out as Pike and Scanlan cheered in victory. “Me neither..” Keyleth uttered, drained as she leaned onto her staff for support. Out of all of them, she had taken the brunt of managing to stay around to keep Scargone grounded.

“It was thanks to the kid we were able to succeed…” Scanlan said with a smile, being the first to praise you. “Indeed..” Vax shared one as well that was quickly wiped away when he realized you might have not gotten off when they finished slaying the mythical beast.

“Oh shit, are they okay?..!” he quickly got off the slain dragon as he made his way toward the head, the others following in his pursuit. In that moment he did feel slight guilt from how he was acting towards you earlier. But it seemed to vanish as you said “I’m good!” to him when he made his way over. A smile was etched on your lips as you hung over upside down from the snout without a care as if you were not lying on top of a dead dragon.

“Thank goodness you are!” chuckled Pike as she watched Vax help you to get down from the dead beast’s snout. “I still can’t believe you did that..!” Scanlan spoke as Percy rounded the corner with Keyleth. For the most part, they seemed to be out of words to say as you landed down beside the gnome.

“Honestly I can’t believe I did that either!” you half-heartedly chuckled, a bit embarrassed from their praises. “I mean I know you guys said you didn’t need me around but uh… I couldn’t really help myself. I felt like I should’ve been here anyway.” you continued yet you felt yourself averting from their gazes. “I also wanted to properly thank you all from earlier. Can’t do that when you guys are dead, heh.”

“You didn’t really have to do that in more ways than some, but I think I can speak for all that we are glad you did.” Vax was the first to speak in response to your address as his comrades nodded with agreement. “But we would also like to thank you. You did save us in the end.” the freckles woman sent you a smile as you looked to her having heard she was speaking directly towards you.

“I told you they’re the best. They’re my pet after all,” a deep yet familiar voice boasted as you looked over to see Grog being helped by Vex as they approached your group.

“It appears so…” agreed the archer as she sent a nod your way, you taking it as her thanks as Pike raced over to them so that she could put her healing abilities to use.

“You flatter me, I wouldn’t mind actually being a… pet.” suddenly you saw the world going sideways as boots and other things you couldn’t identify filled your vision.

It was then the world turned black.

[yes-divine-ruler]

Stan Bowes (Evan Peters in Pose) x Fem!Reader Smut - “Daddy Issues” (18+)

CW: oral (both receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, daddy kink, affair

Words: 1647

Nobody would be on your side if you told them you were in love with a married man. All you were to everyone else was a home-wrecker, a naive child who didn’t know the damage she was doing.

Yet you stood in the apartment he bought you, making a meal with the groceries he paid for, drinking a glass of fine wine that he had brought to you a week ago. You could never do all this on your own. You did feel bad for his wife and children, but you’d feel worse if you never saw him again, and maybe you were selfish for that. Something about Stan Bowes was extraordinary, his handsome face and his toned, sculpted body, the way he treated you was not like any man your age would or could. He sent fresh flowers to your door every morning, and made sure he’d call you if he didn’t have time to come and see you, most of the time.

Being Stan Bowes’ little secret was the best thing in the world, until it wasn’t. You had to share the man of your dreams with a part of his life you weren’t apart of. The part of his life where he was a father, a husband, a son. Where he had responsibilities and priorities.

You waited patiently by your kitchen counter for the door bell to ring, tapping your acrylic nails on the marble until it drove you crazy. Stan was half an hour late already, the dinner you’d made him beginning to go cold. Sighing to yourself, you took your glass of red to the sofa and sunk down on it. You pulled out your mobile phone, tempted to send yet another message asking where he was, and when he’d be here.

When an hour passed, you gave up, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your sad dinner arrangement, the tea lights in the centre of the table burnt to the end of their wicks, your wine bottle now empty. You threw your phone across the room, and let out an angry scream. This was the third night in a row he’d made arrangements to come and see you and didn’t show up.

You start to circle your apartment, pushing the plates off the dining table and onto the floor, tearing the sheer curtains off the curtain rods. You hit the mirror in the bathroom, causing it to shatter, your knuckles bloodied from the sharp glass. Were you really that unimportant that he’d forgotten about you three nights in a row?

That’s when the door bell rang and you hurried out of the bathroom to answer it, fixing your hair and dusting off your silk slip dress like nothing happened as you opened the door. Stan stood there, his face nothing short of apologetic as he pulled you in for a tight hug. You hugged him back, melting into the scent of his expensive cologne, running a hand through his short hair.

“Baby I’m so sorry, I got caught up at work,” he mumbled into your hair as he pulled away to look at you.

“Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”he grabbed onto your bloodied hands, his eyes darting behind you at your trashed apartment.

“Nothing,” you hiccuped, the wine suddenly rushing to your head as Stan looked at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N, what the fuck happened?” He repeated himself slowly, pushing passed you and entering the apartment. You sighed and closed the door behind you, watching as he stepped over cracked porcelain plates and spilled Alfredo with his polished dress shoes.

“Did someone break in?”

He turned to look at you, your face stained with guilt.

“I’m sorry Stan, I got angry, I thought you weren’t coming again,” you bit your lip as his face twisted in anger.

“You can’t just fucking trash the apartment every-time I don’t come and see you, I have a fucking family Y/N, and they come first I told you that,” he ran a hand through his hair as a salty tear trailed down your cheek.

“But Stan-”

“Do you not realise everything I fucking do for you? You’re such an ungrateful brat,” he seethed, walking passed you to the front door and grabbing his coat on the way out.

“Stan please don’t go I’ll fix this I promise,” you begged, grabbing onto his arm before he left your apartment, “I’m so sorry daddy.”

He turned to you, his eyes still filled with rage but totally captivated by his pet name. It rung in his ears like sweet honey, the blood rushing straight to his cock as it came out your pretty lips.

You noticed Stan standing there frozen, and knew you’d said the right thing to make him stay.

“Come on, I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sorry,” you said just above a whisper, coming into his chest and loosening his red striped tie with your fingers, “you just need some loving right now.”

You shut the door behind Stan with your foot as he took a step back into your apartment. You pulled on the collar of his shirt and connected your lips. He fed on your seduction shamelessly, his fingernails clawing into your hips through your silk dress as he pulled you closer. Your tongue entered his warm mouth, tugging on his hair as his hands lifted up your dress.

You broke the kiss for a moment, Stan’s eyes shut firmly as he felt your body, “come to bed, daddy,”

You took his hand and pulled him to your bedroom, pushing him down on the bed as soon as you entered. He laid there, mesmerised by his mistress, as you slipped off the thin straps of your dress to reveal your bare breasts. He moaned as you straddled his lap, unbuttoning each of the buttons on his dress shirt agonisingly slow.

You leaned down to suck on the skin of his neck, your hands working at the zipper of his slacks and pulling it down. You palmed him through his underwear, not surprised to feel a wet patch of pre cum at the tip of his rock hard erection.

“M’gonna suck daddy’s cock, I’ll show you I’m a good girl,” you purred, kissing down to his stomach and then to the front of his underwear. His bottom lip wedged between his teeth as he watched you pull out his cock and lick a stripe from the base to the tip. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, letting out a loud moan as his eyes closed from the pleasure he was receiving.

You took his erection in your mouth, holding the base with your hand as they worked together in synchronicity on his shaft. His cock was covered in your saliva as you pushed your head down to take his whole length. He moaned as you gagged on it, before pulling up for a breath.

“Come here,” he muttered, motioning you over with his fingers. You came up off his cock, and inched your face closer to his. He kissed you, his hands slipping up your dress again to grip onto your bare ass.

“Sit on daddy’s face,” he breathed out, lifting up your dress for you and pulling it over your head. He almost came just from seeing you naked. You obliged, straddling his head with your thighs as you felt his tongue slip between your wet folds. He took your clit in your mouth, the action causing you to let out a small whimper, his hands still cupping the soft skin on your ass. He continued his sensual assault between your legs, his tongue lapping at your arousal as you started to grind on his face. He dipped his tongue into your entrance, his nose pressing up against your clit as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Daddy you’re gonna make me cum!” You squealed, as you finally felt your release, grinding on Stan’s face as he pleasures you through your climax.

He pressed a few gentle kisses to your heat before you climbed off his face, his chin covered in your juices and his own saliva.

You stuck out your tongue, and licked from his chin to his mouth, tasting yourself on his face.

“You’re such a naughty fucking girl,” he growled, his cock almost weeping against his stomach and begging to be paid attention to.

“Only for you,” you cooed back, pressing your wet entrance against his cock and slicking it with your arousal. He gripped onto your hips again, pulling you up so he could slide his cock in.

When you felt it, you almost came again there and then. He stretched you out with his impressive length, your cunt eating up his cock hungrily, the tip almost hitting your cervix.

You began to bounce on his cock, throwing your head back as he marvelled at your breasts, your nipples hard from excitement and titillation.

“My god, you ride my cock like such a little slut,” he praised, as his cock entered you again and again.

“Is daddy gonna cum for his little slut?” You replied, biting on your lip as he grabbed onto your breasts, circling his thumb and pointer finger around your nipples.

“Holy shit baby, fuck-” his eyes screwed shut as his lips parted, letting out words of profanity and low moans as he came inside you. You rode him until he gripped your hips to stop, and then leaned down to his face again.

You kissed him softly, as he hummed in content from your prior activities.

“You, little miss, are paying for those repairs, I hope it teaches you a lesson,” he said with a small smile, as you got off him to lay at his side.

“Yes daddy I’m sorry,” you pout, as he laughs and kisses your head softly.

Taglist: @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Salvator Rosa (1615-1673) "Self-Portrait" (c. 1647) Oil on canvas Baroque Located in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, New York, United States Rosa depicts himself inscribing a skull with the Greek words: “Behold, whither, eventually.” The wreath of cypress is an emblem of mourning, while on the table is a book by the Roman stoic philosopher Seneca. According to the inscription, the picture was a gift to Rosa’s friend Giovanni Battista Ricciardi (1624–1686), a brilliant writer from Pisa.

[kabrumithrun]

New Fic: Mother Knows Best (Or Does She?)

https://ift.tt/8rRSuLp by eerie_enchantress Worried for Kabru after hearing about the events that took place in the dungeon, Kabru’s adoptive mother arrives in Melini for a visit. Kabru, not wanting to leave her to stumble around in an unfamiliar area, goes to pick her up. It’s only after she’s already disembarked her ship that he realizes he might have forgotten to mention one relatively important development of his personal life in his letters. Words: 1647, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Kabru (Dungeon Meshi), Milsiril of the House of Tol, Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, Laios Touden Relationships: Kabru & Milsiril of the House of Tol, Laios Touden/Kabru/Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, Kabru/Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, Kabru/Laios Touden, Mithrun of the House of Kerensil/Laios Touden Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Established Kabru/Laios Touden, Developing Laios Touden/Kabru/Mithrun of the House of Kerensil https://ift.tt/8rRSuLp

[klaine-a03-feed]

Think I'll Miss You Forever

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/GEpKnzk by LeaderofPanthers Canon Divergence of Season 4 Episode 4, "The Break-up". In which Blaine didn't cheat on Kurt, and instead flew to New york to discuss their long distance relationship further. emotional discussions, patching things up. TItle from "Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Ray Words: 1647, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Glee (TV 2009) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry, Kurt Hummel Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Kinda, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No Beta, Fluff, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

[bylagunabay]

Exorcism Prayers for the Laity

SAINT BENEDICT MEDAL PRAYER

(2-min. read)

“𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞.” (𝐄𝐱𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚 𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚)

1 HISTORY

During a trial for witchcraft at Natternberg near the Abbey of Metten in Bavaria in the year 1647, the accused women testified that they had no power over Metten, which was under the protection of the cross. Upon investigation, a number of painted crosses, surrounded by the letters which are now found on Benedictine medals, were found on the walls of the abbey, but their meaning had been forgotten.

Finally, in an old manuscript, written in 1415, was found a picture representing St. Benedict holding in one hand a staff which ends in a cross, and a scroll in the other. On the staff and scroll were written in full the words of which the mysterious letters were the initials. Medals bearing the image of St. Benedict, a cross, and these letters began now to be struck in Germany, and soon spread over Europe. They were first approved by Benedict XIV in his briefs of 23 December 1741, and 12 March 1742.

(Catholic Encyclopedia)

2 LATIN INVOCATIONS

C. S. S. M. L. (Crux Sacra Sit Mihi Lux):

“May the Holy Cross be my light.”

N. D. S. M. D. (Non Draco Sit Mihi Dux):

“Let not the dragon be my guide.”

V. R. S. (Vade Retro Satan):

“Begone Satan!”

N. S. M. V. (Nunquam Suade Mihi Vana):

“Never tempt me with your vanities!”

S. M. Q. L. (Sunt Mala Quae Libas):

“All that pours from you is evil!”

I. V. B. (Ipse Venena Bibas):

“Drink your own poison!”

3 TESTIMONIES

Ellen

Feb 23, 2023

“I am an oblate of a Benedictine Abbey. A couple of years ago, we had a terrible tornado in our town. I prayed to St. Benedict that my home and neighborhood would not be touched and they were not. I credit the prayers of St. Benedict.”

(houseofjoppa)

Jessica Geo

April 03, 2023

“My entire family has been wearing the Saint Benedict medal since the beginning of the pandemic. My husband is a physician working at one of the busiest hospitals in New York. I have a toddler that puts everything in his mouth. We travel a lot. We never got sick, never tested positive for COVID. We pray to Saint Benedict every night. He’s protecting us.”

(houseofjoppa)

Maria

Maria, a mother of three from Italy, recalls a time of great distress in her family. "There was a palpable sense of unease in our home," she says. "Nightmares, unexplained tensions, and a general feeling of malaise were frequent." A devout Catholic, Maria turned to her faith for solace and protection. After consulting with her parish priest, she placed St. Benedict Medals in her home and on her children. "It was as if a weight was lifted," she recounts. "The atmosphere in our house changed, and my children slept peacefully again."

(laudate-mariam)

[nicksbestie]

Fading

THIS IS DEPRESSING AND TRIGGERING AS FUCK, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT IN A STABLE PLACE THANK YOU !! I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU IGNORE THIS AND CONTINUE TO READ IT

word count: 1647

content warnings: self-harm, descriptions of blood, gauze, depression/mental illness, descriptions of pain

this is ur last warning to step away !! otherwise, enjoy

<3

There was so. much. blood. The sight of it would make anyone dizzy, and as Scarlett stared down at her upper legs and inner wrist, her hand shook harder than it ever had before. The resemblance of her name, her fiery red hair, and the red liquid pooling in her bathroom was not something she had ever found ironic, but right now, she wondered if it was a coincidence or a cruel twist of fate.

This had always been something that was private, something she dealt with alone. She’d always been able to handle it, she’d never wanted to talk about it, to put the burden of her mental illness onto someone else. It’s not like she didn’t have people to talk to, she just couldn’t hurt them with that when they definitely had their own shit to go through. It’s just not who she was. 

She had a boyfriend who had been there, who had lived through what she was doing, who had talked to her about it. And yet, after two years of a relationship, he didn’t know. She felt horrible about it sometimes, but he had always assured her that she didn’t owe him anything, and he would never push her to speak about anything that she didn’t want to. But as her vision blurred with tears, tears of fear, mixed with a large amount of pain that mostly hadn’t hit her system yet, she didn’t know what else to do. 

She had never been more grateful that she agreed to move in on their two year anniversary, as the metal blade clattered to the tile floor and she sobbed out, sitting down on the toilet seat and staring in shock at her body, letting out just one word, in the form of a yell. 

“Ash!” 

Ashton was nearly on the verge of falling asleep, as it was nearing one in the morning, but the absolute panic in his girlfriend’s voice flowed through his veins like an electric shock. He sat up, throwing the covers off of his body and standing up, immediately noticing the light seeping out from under the bathroom door. 

“Scarlett?!” 

The door was locked. He rattled the knob twice, getting no response. He pounded on the door, once, before slipping his thumbnail into the small crease in the doorknob, twisting it and popping the lock on the door. 

“Scar- Scarlett.” 

She could barely see through the waves of tears, but she will never forget the look on his face. Fear, blended with heartbreak, all coated in a layer of fresh pain. 

It only made her cry harder, unable to form words. She turned her face away, refusing to make eye contact with him. Seeing the absolute shock in his hazel eyes was too much, it made her feel way too fucking vulnerable. Not like she already wasn’t feeling that, but since she was, that was a level she couldn’t handle right now. 

Ashton tried his hardest not to think. He couldn’t spare the time to think, she needed help. But at the same time, he didn’t know how to turn off the millions of thoughts racing around his head. 

How long? Why didn’t she tell him? She didn’t have to tell him anything, but he thought maybe she would come to him if… Regardless, it didn’t matter, he was finding out now, and she needed him. 

He immediately grabbed a washcloth and ran it under some cold water, offering her his hand as he kneeled in front of her. 

“Oh, baby. Here, tighten your grip, this is probably going to hurt pretty badly.” 

He firmly pressed the material to the deepest set of wounds, wincing slightly as a pained cry slipped past her lips, and her hold on his hand tightened until he thought he’d lose circulation. Whispering soft words and encouragement as the bleeding slowly began to clot and stop, he gently wiped the excess blood from around them as he moved from one set of cuts to another. Examining all of them as he cared for them, he took great relief in noticing that the deepest ones were not deep enough to need stitches, and while they would hurt like a bitch to heal, they would be okay. 

She would be okay, at least physically. 

Continuing to dampen the washcloth and adjust it to a less blood-soaked side every few minutes, he spoke loving words to her the entire time. He’d been here, he knew how it felt, and he hated that she was suffering. Her crying hadn’t slowed, and she still refused to look at him. He tried so desperately to not take it personally, knowing that when he had been where she was, he didn’t want to look or talk to people either. He wanted to reach up and wipe her tears away, but he couldn’t, not with one hand holding the fabric and the other held in a death grip. It would have to do for now. 

“We’re going to get through this, love. I’m here with you. I’m here for you.”

She didn’t reply, though her sobbing had slowed. It was now just a steady stream of silent tears racing quickly down her face, but she was looking at him now, which was progress. He slid the wooden drawer next to the sink open, hand easily locating and finding the medical gauze that remained in there. His heart sank and clenched at the same time when he realized just how little there was left. He had replaced the roll just earlier that week. 

Softly wrapping her upper thighs, gentle hands tying it off tightly to keep the bleeding to a minimum, he pressed a kiss to the top of the bandaging on each leg before moving to her inner wrist. He easily wrapped it as well, hating how familiar the feeling felt, yet on someone else’s body. Taking her hand once more, he stood and gently pulled her to her feet, immediately wrapping his arms around her body. His chin rested on top of her head, and while he normally teased her for their size difference, today he hated how small she felt against him. 

“I love you. C’mon, darling. It’s late, let’s go lay down, and we can talk.”

She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t agree either. Her body was nearly limp against his as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gently led her back to their shared bedroom. He noted that she was already in comfortable clothes, and his heart felt like it never stopped aching as he considered how much she may have, for lack of better words, prepared, before doing this.

He laid back down in the bed, motioning for Scarlett to come lay against him. She did, wincing slightly when the sheets rubbed against her arm and thighs. Ashton had a sad look on his face, and she hated herself for putting it there. She never wanted to hurt him, and now she had. The thought of that did nothing to calm her already raging anxiety and pain, and the tears that had slowly stopped easily picked their pace back up again, this time soaking a spot into Ashton’s shirt from where she was pressed against his chest. 

Normally his heartbeat relaxed her, eased her to sleep, comforted her in times of distress, but tonight, all it reminded her of was blood. Pumping through his body, just like her own was. Blood running in veins through wrists and thighs, blood that had been spilled onto their bathroom floor, that she had just sat and sobbed in while Ashton cleaned up her mess without so much as a single complaint. His heartbeat was no longer a comforting sound, only making her eyes blur with tears and her airway clog up with snot from the meltdown. 

She pulled herself away, turning her back to him, trying to put some space between the two of them. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be comforted, but she felt like a burden. And the last thing she wanted to do was burden Ashton, as she’d already hurt him tonight, clearly beyond repair. But he immediately reached out and turned her back around, not letting her hide from him again. She didn’t say anything, but he seemed to know anyway.

“We should talk, but I don’t think that it would do you much good right now, so I’ll talk, and all I ask is that you listen. I know how much you’re hurting. I’ve been where you are, my love, and it is horrible. You are so strong for going through this, and dealing with it alone, but you don’t have to anymore. I’m more than willing to help you carry this pain, and I hope that you will let me. I know you, Scarlett, and I know that you are independent. I’ve always admired that about you. You never want to ask for help, and that is an admirable trait, but I know that sometimes you need it. If you don’t want to talk about this, we won’t, but I won’t forget it, either. I will be here when you need me, and we’re going to get through this.” 

Sometime during his small speech, her tears had stopped again, and she had moved back to his side. His arms were wrapped around her again, and she only spoke a few words to him. 

“You promise?” 

He smiled down at her, gently rubbing her back, using the pad of his thumb on his opposite hand to wipe tears from her lash line.

“I promise, Scarlett. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

This time, when she fell asleep against him that night, his heartbeat didn’t bother her anymore. In fact, it was the catalyst for her getting rest, for her new beginning with him by her side. A sign of life.

[nerves-nebula]

In case you’re curious how chapter 2 of the Abe grooming Donnie fic is going, I’m 1647 words in and we just got into Abe’s house. I spend an unreal amount of time describing Abe’s neighborhood and Donnie’s thoughts (including an intrusive thought scenario about him getting harmed) and audhdhshsfs.