#All The Roofs Of Uncertainty

[gurorori]

okay very srs vent / trauma dump ahead i seriously advise No1 reads this..

tw for the same described in last rb i am sorry

i apologise for usin this acc for ventin a lot heh i prommy i try 2 keep it silly.. but its more convenient here than on instagram. 🙏

[ohproserpine]

vi. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)

˚୨୧₊♱

You never really liked cars.

The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.

It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.

As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.

Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.

Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.

Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.

Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.

After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.

"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.

"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"

He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.

Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.

"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."

His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.

"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."

With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.

Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.

Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.

Oh, how you wished you could do the same.

Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.

Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.

Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.

"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.

Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.

"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."

"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.

You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.

"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.

"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."

With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.

As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.

Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.

With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.

"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.

"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.

To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.

"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?

"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."

"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.

Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."

You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.

"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"

Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.

"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."

With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.

Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.

Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.

As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.

Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.

The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.

He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.

Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?

With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.

As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.

˚୨୧₊♱

Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.

Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"

You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.

"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.

With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.

Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.

As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.

Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.

"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.

Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.

Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.

Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.

"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."

You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"

You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Words, cher. Use your words."

"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.

Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.

Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.

Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.

Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.

In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.

"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.

Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.

All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.

More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.

Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.

With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.

And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.

You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.

With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.

Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.

As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.

Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.

There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.

The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.

You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.

You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.

What have you done?

˚୨୧₊♱

"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!

That's right, folks, he's dead!

Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"

You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.

Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.

"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."

The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.

Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.

As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.

The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.

Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.

You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.

Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.

The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.

˚୨୧₊♱

There was screaming.

Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.

You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.

Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.

Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.

The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.

Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.

Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.

Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.

Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.

As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.

"Well, look who it is."

The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.

"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.

"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"

"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"

"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"

"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"

"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.

Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~

"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"

You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong

"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.

We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when

"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.

Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."

Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.

"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"

"Dolly'll never go away again~"

You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.

"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.

"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.

"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.

"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.

Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."

"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."

"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."

The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"

Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.

"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"

"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.

Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"

"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."

With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.

'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'

"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.

With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.

"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"

You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.

"You shot him?"

"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"

At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.

"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"

"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.

After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.

"I know something you don't know~" she sings.

"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.

"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."

Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"

"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.

"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."

You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.

"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."

You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"

Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."

"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.

Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.

A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."

Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."

With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.

"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"

"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."

With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"

You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.

"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.

Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"

"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.

Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."

"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.

"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"

Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.

"It's a deal."

[c0kitty]

NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader

“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”

(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.

you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.

ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side. 

the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —

ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women. 

“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.

“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.” 

also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.

you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”

“i need to say something,” 

you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?” 

you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'. 

you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.

ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.

“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.

“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.

your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.

“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.

“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.

silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”

ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”

“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”

“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.

you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way. 

“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—” 

ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours.  “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.

a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.

ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.

at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.

ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest. 

you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–” 

“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.

she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.

“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”

you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”

ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”

a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.

“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.” 

ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”  

in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.

“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.

[ancientcharm]

Inside Pantheon, Rome, Italy. It is one of the best preserved ancient Roman buildings in the world.

Photography by Luigi Di Criscio (@luigidicriscio)

In Latin Pantheum (from Greek Πάνθειον Pantheion) means "common to all the gods." It was built from an earlier temple commissioned by Marcus Agrippa during the reign of Augustus (27 BC – 14 AD). After a fire, the current building was commissioned by Emperor Hadrian (117-138).

Agrippa finished the construction of the building called the Pantheon. It has this name, perhaps because it received among the images which decorated it the statues of many gods, including Mars and Venus; but my own opinion of the name is that, because of its vaulted roof, it resembles the heavens.  Cassius Dio, History of Rome 53.27.2

Cassius Dio's uncertainty about the name suggests that "Pantheon" was a nickname, not the formal name of the building.

The portico of the Pantheon at night.

The inscription M·AGRIPPA·L·F·COS·TERTIVM·FECIT means: "Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, made [this building] when consul for the third time."

Photography by Jfabrix101 / Wikimedia Commons.

Texts from Wikipedia.org

Beautiful

[halfmoonaria]

return

pairing: tara carpenter x female!reader

summary: tara returns to woodsboro, in hopes to find you again.

word count: 2.8k

Tara missed being a kid.

She missed being competitive over who blew the biggest bubbles in the milk.

Putting on impromptu talent shows in the living room, singing horribly and dancing to inappropriate songs, or attempting to do magic tricks that never worked.

Pretending to be pirates searching for a hidden treasure, who in reality was either hidden by herself or Sam because she was forced to.

She missed everything about being a kid, simply because everything was so much easier. When her whole family was gathered at the dinner table every night, or when she didn't have to worry about a new serial killer dressed as Ghostface, back to when the costume was just something Stab fans wore for Halloween.

Although she mainly missed it because of the person she had spent her whole childhood with.

You.

Growing up, you and Tara had been inseparable for years.

It was unclear how you became friends to begin with, even for Tara herself. All she knew was that you had randomly complemented her shoes one day at recess in preschool, and everything kind of happened from there.

You and Tara hung out every day, sleepovers every weekend and sometimes even on weekdays when Sam played the role of babysitter and allowed it.

Sharing clothes and toys, almost like sisters. Some people actually thought you were; always being attached to the hip.

Tara had never thought that the two of you would get separated or grow apart, ever. However, that's what happened.

After the massacre in Woodsboro, Sam had basically forced Tara out of town, not wanting to spend any more time in there than necessary. Not that Tara didn't want to get out, but because she knew that you wouldn't come with them.

You had tried to convince your parent to let you go with them, or maybe even that you moved there all together, but they straight up refused; reason unknown, they refused to explain. They claimed that you were their daughter, and as long you lived under their roof, they had the responsibilities to keep you safe.

You understood that they wanted the best for you, and that it simply wasn't that easy for them to just drop their entire life to move to New York City. But you and Tara came as a couple, which was why you both felt miserable when she left town.

Even though she had Sam and the twins with her, it still didn't feel right.

The promise that was made between the two of you about texting and calling every night was quickly fading, almost after the first week.

Tara was occupied by college and the studies that came with it, and if she was being completely honest, she had no idea what you were up to. And even though she never got time to call you, she thought about you every day.

The memories and thoughts became too much sometimes, which led to Tara texting you; either questions about how you were doing, or just paragraphs about what was happening in New York. in hopes to receive answers, which she did.

In the beginning she received short answers laced with kindness and empathy, but suddenly you had stopped answering.

Tara couldn't think of any reason for you to be mad at her, which was why confusion and uncertainty were the only feelings in her body.

You couldn't be mad at her for leaving right? You knew it wasn't up for debate. Maybe you were frustrated because Tara hadn't contacted you sooner? But the phone works two ways, right?

She tried to tell herself that you would reach out to her sooner or later, whenever you were ready or felt like it, hence to why months passed without any contact between the two of you.

Six months without any touch and you didn't leave Tara's mind for a second.

She was starting to worry.

Had you already found a new friends?

The thought hurt to think about, Tara could barely talk to other people without finding connections to things you used to say or inside jokes the two of you had, what if you'd already forgotten her?

You were on Tara's mind as if you were dead. She missed you as if you were deceased.

She tried to think about Woodsboro like the town she grew up in, the town she never wanted to leave.

Instead, all she could think about was the way she had left you with three stab wounds in your abdomen, when you had been the first one to arrive at the hospital when she had gotten attacked.

Tara would never forgive herself for giving into Sam that easily, leaving you in that state; since you had straight up refused to even leave the room when Tara was injured.

You had been by Tara's side the second you met her. Protecting her from bullies, standing up for her against teachers, and even her parents sometimes.

She wouldn't be too surprised if you were mad at her for leaving without any further explanation. All she told you was that she would be moving to New York because Sam said so. Two days later she was gone.

Tara knew that too much time had passed, that you'd probably get frustrated if she decided to visit now. After almost a year. However, Tara felt like she needed to see you. Even though she had nothing special to say; other than news from the big city. Which she knew you would love.

Convincing Sam to let her go back to Woodsboro wasn't easy, almost impossible indeed.

However, when Tara mentioned that it was to visit you, she changed her mind.

Sam had asserted that she would never go back to Woodsboro, not even if she got payed for it.

Although, Sam had always carried a soft spot for you.

You were Tara's best friend. Tara talked about you all the time. Even when you were kids, if you weren't with Tara; which was unlikely, talking about you and the things she did with you were the only thing that escaped her quiet mouth at the dinner table.

It would be impossible not to like you. Even if she wouldn't have liked you the first time you came to their house, she would've been forced to like you by how much time you spent there.

Sam saw how happy you made Tara. She saw how happy she was whenever you hung out with her, she heard how Tara's laugh with you, was nothing like the one she had with their parents. 

She had seen the look on Tara's face when she heard that you had gotten hurt, stabbed.

The painting of panic that was on her face the whole time they were in the hospital after those news.

Sam knew Tara had the twins with her, but she also knew that wasn't enough. Based on the way Tara was when you weren't around, showed how nothing would be the same until she had allowed Tara see you. If that meant going back to Woodsboro, then so be it.

The drive between the two towns was rather long. Hours to be exact. Hours filled with nerves, anxiety and hand sweat.

Tara had no idea how you would react to seeing her. She didn't even know if you would be located in the same area, what if you had moved?

Sam was asking Tara tons of questions throughout the whole car ride. Questions that Tara wasn't able to answer, either because she was too nervous or because she didn't know.

She asked what you were doing these days, if you were studying college or if you had a job, and embarrassing as it was, Tara didn't know.

By the time the drive was finished, when they had arrived in Woodsboro. Tara felt like she didn't know you anymore.

She barely knew what you looked like. She didn't know what you did for a living, or who you hung out with.

Although she did figure out that you lived at the same address, since your father's truck was parked outside your house. Proving that you still lived in the same place.

When Tara was standing in front of your front door, she couldn't bring herself to knock. Her sweaty hands were placed on her denim covered thighs, and was stuck there.

Because moving them meant knocking, and knocking meant you opening.

Sam had insisted on staying in the car, claiming that she wanted you to have space and the opportunity for private conversation, if that's what you needed.

So instead of asking Tara what she was doing, she just watched her little sister about to have a nervous breakdown in front of her best friends house.

Finally, Tara brought up her tightly knitted fist and knocked. Quick and hard, just so she couldn't change her mind.

It didn't take more than a few seconds til footsteps was heard from inside the house.

No "I'm coming!" was heard, no running footsteps of you basically tripping down the stairs or over the hallway carpet. Stuff that could always be heard whenever Tara came over on the weekends.

The door swung open, and Tara was surprised when she saw your mother standing in front of her, not you, like Tara would've thought.

Maybe you weren't home?

Your mother looked shocked, her eyes widened as she recalled who was standing outside her house. Tears looked as if they were making appearance on her eyes, just by the sight of Tara.

Tara tried to smile, but it barely reached her cheeks. She was too nervous. What if your mother was mad at her too?

"Tara." Your mother sighed out in disbelief, completely caught off guard by the fact that her daughters old best friend was standing in front of her.

Tara's mouth couldn't utter words, she wanted to say something, but the words just fell away. Instead the only thing that came out was a quiet "Hi".

She almost felt embarrassed; being so shy and nervous in front of the woman who had once been like a second mother to her.

"Would you like to come inside?" Your mother voice was soft, yet shaky at the same time. She seemed worried around Tara.

Did the rumors about Sam reach your house too? Was she scared of her?

Your mom stepped aside and opened the door wider, motioning for Tara to step inside.

Smiling softly at her when she carefully nodded and stepped inside.

The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and it was stressing Tara out.

She wanted to break the silence that entered the house as soon as she entered. Although her lips didn't dare to move as she scanned the house.

Tara didn't make it further than to the coat hanger before all of the memories rushed back to her.

There was the banister that you and Tara always used to slide down whenever dinner was ready, or the stairs that you and Tara once used a mattress to slide down.

There was the kitchen table were your family had organized seats for everyone, Tara was counted in there as well.

All of the memories almost made her tear up, but she couldn't cry in front of your mom, not when she just came here. That would be ridiculous. The thought of it made her panic. The whole situation made her panic.

Your mother closed the door behind her, opening her mouth to talk. "So how's New York treating you? Is it better than this cave?" She laughed.

"It's great" Tara nodded, wiping her hands yet again on her thighs. "It's a very busy town. Lots of new people."

She wanted to make it sound like it was all great. That she had found lots of new friends and maybe even a job. And it seemed to fool your mom, but it made Tara want to cringe.

Your mom had a big smile placed on her face, nodding along as Tara spoke. Which only made the guilt grow more and more. She knew it wasn't right to lie, but she couldn't help it; you had probably moved on a long time ago.

As soon as Tara didn't have any lies left to sell, she tried to bring up the actual reason for why she came there to begin with.

"Is Y/N here?" She finally asked, voice shaky of nerves. However, your mother should've understood that's why she was here, right?

But instead of demonstrating any kind of understanding her face dropped. The big friendly smile that was previously displayed on her face was nowhere to be seen, as soon as Tara had opened her mouth.

Tara watched her features carefully, looking up to her as if she was her child that had just gotten scolded. Nothing in her face expression changed, the only addition Tara could make out was the layer of tears that began forming once again.

"Oh honey." Your mom sighed out, her lips slightly shaking while speaking. Then she started walking, towards the couch in the living room, not far away from the front door.

Tara hesitantly followed, nothing but confusion painted on her face.

As she walked behind your mom, her eyes flickered to all of the photos that was placed on top of the fireplace. It was filled with frames around your pretty child face, tons were you were

making silly faces, smiling, posing in outfits. Some of them even had Tara in them too.

Just the look of the photos made Tara think back to the times when you were really that young. When nothing mattered except what ice cream flavor you'd choose from the kiosk.

Your mother had taken a seat on the sofa, and was waiting patiently for Tara to sit down next to her. And when she did, it looked like she had already began crying.

She took Tara's hands in hers, almost as if they were about to start praying together.

"Tara." She spoke softly. However, Tara only nodded as a response, the nerves were swirling around in her body so badly that she couldn't find her voice to speak. Your mother's nose had turned red, and her lips looked to be quivering slightly.

Then she spoke up again.

"Y/N was killed..5 months ago, in the.. massacre."

Tara's ears started ringing.

Her hand's immediately pulled away from your moms.

Her mouth opened to speak, but at that moment it wasn't even able to let out breaths.

Her breath hitched.

Heart sank to her stomach.

Layer of water coating her pupils.

The last massacre? After Tara and Sam had left? How come she had never heard about it?

Your mother looked at Tara filled with guilt, as if she had kept this from her on purpose, as if she thought Tara would find out about it through somebody else.

She was talking about something, saying something about Ghostface, how everybody managed to survive except you.

It had been at a party, last year. The person behind the mask had attacked people randomly, not people with hatred against. Random people.

And you happened to be one of them.

The person behind the mask had never been found, and the whole town had walked around in shame and horror for the past months.

The only word Tara could make out was Ghostface, her ears were ringing too loudly for her to hear anything else that came out from your mother.

You were killed? By Ghostface?

The room felt as if it was getting smaller, closing in on her, making it harder to breath.

What did you do to get taken? Why didn't she get taken? She's the one that should've been.

What if she hadn't gone to New York? Would she have been the one that got killed instead?

If she didn't move, you'd be alive. It was all her fault, wasn't it?

Tara couldn't comprehend what she was doing, her body was moving but her mind was not. Before she knew it she shot up from the couch. Her mind and gaze was focused on the pictures of you on top of the fireplace. The ones with her on them.

"I'm sorry." Tara mumbled, barely loud enough for Mrs. Y/L/N to hear it.

Her legs moved before she could even begin to process, your mom was saying something, but she couldn't hear what.

Instead child giggles took over her eardrums, they were Taras and yours. Back to when you guys were together everyday.

They didn't disappear, nor fade away the slightest, not even when she walked out the door and ran down the two stair steps of the porch to the house.

Tears where running down her face without her knowing, although she noticed it when her eyes were too blurry for her to open the car door. She fiddled with it three times before it finally opened.

Sam watched her with worried eyes the second her figure came out the door, and when Tara sat down in the front seat full on sobbing, she knew something went wrong.

"She's dead, Sam."

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[trappolia]

KISS ME ONCE AGAIN ── silver x gn!reader, 1.6k

silver has always taken his time with you.

he has never been able to tell you why. lilia says that it is just the way he is, ever since he was a boy. he plays by the rules. he goes by a routine that is, as much as possible, not too affected by his strange sleeping habits.

it is why he goes through the meticulous steps of courting you, offering you flowers and gifting you with thoughtful trinkets and even writing letters for your family while your worlds remain separate. it is why it had to be you to take the first step and kiss him one night during a star-gazing date because gods damn it all, you’re sick of waiting.

( silver laughed and laughed that night as you apologised for your callous actions; because you were so cute, because he was so in love, because it all felt like a dream come true when he allowed himself to ignore tradition to cup your cheeks and pull you into another kiss. )

silver discovers very early on that even when he takes his time, it's all still overwhelming. like a dream come true, he used to tell lilia in bouts of deliriousness when he's still caught between dream and reality and his mind is too muddled with sleep to care about embarrassing himself in front of the fae who had raised him.

like a dream come true.

but what is his dream, exactly?

a cottage deep in the forest of briar valley, with ivy growing up the walls and over the red-tiled roof. soft, packed dirt with growing flowers of all kinds, spring blossoms of pink, yellow, blue, red, protected by a low wall. there are no horrors with dripping ink and dragging claws, no glowing emerald eyes or scaled wings. just grass and flowers and sky and nothing.

no. not nothing. because there's you.

"i just cleaned, so remember to take off your boots by the door!" silver hears you call out from inside the cottage. his chest quakes as he lets out a ragged breath, his bag dropping as he rids himself of the extra weight.

the floor below his dirty boots is clean slate compared to the cluttered kitchen to his left and the living area to his right. silver sees the same threadbare couch by the stone fireplace, cluttered with throw pillows and blankets and an unfinished knitting project. the couch is old. used. loved. there are some closed doors beyond the stairs, but silver doesn't have to check to know what lies behind them. his old childhood bedroom where lilia used to tuck him in. a bathroom that has been flooded one or more than a few times when he got too carried away with playtime. the small study where he used to have his lessons on reading and writing.

there's something about the sight of his childhood home that sets silver off, as if he’s caught in crosswinds, but he fumbles his way inside anyway, toeing his shoes off out of ingrained politeness. his footfalls feel heavy and light all at once against the wooden floors as he walks — almost as if by habit — to the kitchen where he had heard your voice come from.

"there you are," you beam at him, putting a kettle of water on top of the same stove that silver had watched his father cook his meals so many times. your brows furrow when you notice the strange expression on his face; the emotions whirling in his aurora irises like a hurricane and the trembling of his bottom lip.

you frown, wiping your hands on a cloth rag. "silver? what's wrong?"

silver lets out a ragged breath, his hand shaking as it comes up to cradle your own as you cup his face in your palm. what is wrong? this is all he's ever wanted, isn't it? a life with you in the woods he had grown up in, free of worries and dangers and hurt and anger. he's built a home with no fear, no yelling, no uncertainties. just like the life lilia always wanted to give him.

it's a dream come true.

"you're a dream," silver whispers when he realises, his hands coming up to cradle your face in turn. he's shaking, he knows that even with his mind whirling, but he just can't help it— he has to touch you, make sure this isn't— this isn't a nightmare—

no. no, no, no. malleus wouldn't do that. this is his dream. this is what his heart has always yearned for.

"my dream."

"well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up in that soft smile that silver oh so adores to kiss. "what's the occasion?"

"i—" silver opens his mouth, but no words come out. what can he say? what can he do, knowing that this is all he's ever wanted, but this is a dream. this is a dream and you're not real but gods, does silver want you to be.

a beat passes, and your smile turns sad.

"you know, don't you?"

silver feels his heart ache. he wants to tell you no. no, please keep this veil over my eyes. pretend i don’t know this isn’t real. please. please.

you reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with such tenderness that silver feels like crying. “you’ve always been so smart, silver.”

“i’m sorry,” he allows himself to say, because this is the least he owes you— this perfect imitation of you that his mind, malleus’s magic, has managed to conjure, because in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve managed to ingrain yourself into every fibre of his being so that even under this spell, all silver can dream about is you, you, you.

silver doesn't want to wake up. he doesn't, he really doesn't. there's something in him that pulls at his heartstrings, tugging at every vein and nerve as if begging him to stay, please stay. there must be a reason why you're always falling asleep, why this had to happen. just stay. this is a dream come true, why would you want to wake up?

“you’re still there,” silver says in a voice so small, it feels like he’s a little boy again, crying and clinging onto lilia like the fever that sticks to his skin and reminds him of his mortality.

“you’re still there, and i’m here.”

his childhood home is small, but within the cottage and with your hands cradling his face, the thick walls feels unnaturally closer, like something is breathing on the back of his neck. he’s reminded of you, somewhere in night raven college, trapped within your own dream. do you think of him, he wonders? has he become your new dream, just as you have become his?

will he ever see you again?

silver can't bear the thought of you somehow waking up from your dream — a matter of when rather than if, because silver knows that you've always had a knack for getting out of impossible situations like this — and realising that he had left you alone to stay in this eternal sleep, with this dream– this illusion of what could have been.

“i have to go,” silver whispers, and his heart breaks because this might be a dream, but it’s still you. how can he tell you he’s going to leave? he can’t do that. he can’t break your heart like that, he can’t—

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry— i'm so, so sorry.”

he expects you to stop him. what do the stories say about dreams where you’re supposed to be kept unaware, blissfully oblivious to the fact that this utopia is not your reality? silver expects this dream version of you to pull some sort of trick to lure him back into your trap—

but instead you just smile softly, reaching out to stroke his face, "how lucky i am to have someone like you love me."

silver hears something crack, resonating in his soul. is it the chains of malleus’s magic breaking its hold on him, or the last pieces of his heart shattering at last? he doesn’t know.

maybe it’s both.

but whatever it is, silver knows he doesn’t have much time. his hands cup your cheeks, pulling you close to him with the desperation of a dying man.

he feels you gasp against his mouth, lips parting and allowing his tongue to slip inside. he maps the cavern of your mouth as if immortalising it in his mind, like he’ll never see you again after this— because that is very well a possibility, no matter how he tries to ignore it.

silver kisses you like it’s his last day in this godforsaken world, because it might as well be, and great seven, he should have done this every time he kissed you. he should have kissed you first. he should have kissed you every moment he could instead of taking his time because now he can hear the sand running in the hourglass, and he’s blind to how much time he has left, and he just wants to see you in the flesh again, please, please, please—

the two of you part an eternity later, but it still feels much too soon. there’s so much love in him, and too little time, and silver feels like drowning.

"wait for me," silver pleads. he'll make this dream come true, he swears. he’ll give you all the love he has in this wretched body of his, and then some. he’ll never sleep again even, if only to make this dream come true.

"i will," you whisper breathlessly—

—and with a bittersweet smile and a final, fleeting kiss to his lips, you let him go.

© trappolia 2024

[samkerrworshipper]

two’s a company, three’s a crowd | alexia putellas x reader x lucy bronze

warnings: heavy smut, cunnilingus, fingering, sex toys, 18+ minors DNI

6000 words that y’all have been begging for and full disclaimer i have written this at 4am on a red bull high so sorry if it isn’t completely coherent xoxo

“Remember what I promised you?”

I was kneeling on the floor beside our bed, a blindfold over my face.

“I’d get a reward if I was a good girl, ma’am.”

I kept my head bowed, facing what I assumed was our floor boards, but I couldn’t tell you for sure because I couldn’t see.

“Do you think you were a good girl?”

I gulped soundly, it could be a trick question, an attempt to catch me out, or prove me wrong. Or it could be a legitimate question, it was a 50/50 chance.

“I tried my hardest ma’am, I think I was good.”

My words held some uncertainty, but not enough for it to be detected, a perfect balance of confidence and self consciousness.

“I think so too, enough that I think you deserve your reward.”

I perked up a little bit at the words, my knees were starting to get sore from the floorboards so anything to get me up off them would be better than this.

“If you think so, ma’am.”

I felt a hand tugging at my scalp, a change from the complete nothingness I’d felt for a while now, it had me jolting in my position, slightly shocked by the contact.

My head was tugged backwards, no longer facing what I assumed was the floor. Tilting it back as far as I could go so I was now assumedly looking at the roof.

“I think so, I think you’ll need to see to properly have this reward though.”

My curiosity was growing by the minute, I was silently becoming more desperate by the second to discover what exactly she was referencing.

I blinked furiously as the silk blindfold was tugged down, so it was pooling around my neck. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden light, but once they did I could make out Alexia, who was standing directly above me, her eyes and eyebrows quirked just a little bit, in that cheeky way she did when she was up to something.

“Give our guest a proper welcome.”

My eyes snapped away from Alexia’s, searching around the room before spotting the intruder that Alexia had been referencing, sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room.

“L-Lucy?”

The lights in our room were dimmed but I was fairly certain that it was her, Alexia’s mind never ceased to amaze me. I suddenly felt very self conscious, my hands going to whatever parts of my naked body that they could cover. They weren’t there for long though, Alexia’s hands slapping at them very quickly.

“No being shy, if tonight goes how I planned Lucia will be seeing far more of you.”

My spine shuddered, so this really was what I had been thinking.

“Do you want that? Do you want to be a good girl for Lucia and I?”

I nodded frantically at Alexia, leaving absolutely zero room for doubt in my actions.

Alexia smirked down at me, she knew me so well, knew exactly how to turn me into putty in her hands. We’d talked about this, casually, her asking me over breakfast one morning if the situation arose I’d be comfortable with bringing someone else in. Initially I’d choked on my tea, and then I’d told her I was very open to the idea, that if it was what she wanted I would definitely be down for it, I just hadn’t expected so soon, or with Lucy. If I was being honest I’d assumed if anyone would ever join Alexia it would be Mapi, just because of the close relationship we had and the fact that I knew her and Ingrid weren’t opposed to sharing.

“I’ll be good for you.”

Alexia smiled at me and nodded.

“I know you will baby. Why don’t you show Lucy how good you can be for her? Show her just how perfect you are, Musetrale lo buena que puedes ser para mi?”

I nodded at Ale, I found it funny that of all the people she would bring she chose Lucy. The girl was lovely, an absolute golden retriever of a human being who was always putting smiles on our faces at training. The underlying feeling that I had though was that Ale had a reason, Lucy was obsessed with proving that she respected Ale and I was fairly sure she’d bend over backwards if Alexia asked. She in her own right though was a dominant person, she wasn’t a person to give up control and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she would give it up easily, even to Alexia.

“Lucia, get on the edge of the bed and take your trousers off, you are far too dressed for this occasion.”

Lucy nodded obediently, pulling her trousers off as she stumbled towards the edge of the bed. Fumbling her trousers off and slinging them onto the seat she had previously occupied, leaving her in a plain pair of black boxer shorts. She seated herself on the edge of the bed as Alexia had requested, waiting restlessly on the edge, clearly waiting for something to happen.

“Come on then, don’t leave our guest waiting.”

I nodded at Alexia, extending my hands out in front of me and crawling over towards Lucy, revelling in the way her eyes crawled up and down my body as I moved towards her. There was something so sensual about someone looking you up and down, something so perfect about having your body be appreciated and wanted, Lucy was looking at me like I was a fucking dessert for her to eat and I loved absolutely every single second of it. The way she watched my tits hanging down from my body frame as the moved back and forth as I crawled towards her, and the sight of her eyes travelling down to my ass was purely magical.

When I did make my way to Lucy I kneeled directly in front of her, letting her part her legs on either side of me, leaving my face directly in front of her sex.

“Can I eat her out please, ma’am?”

I could hear Alexia walking around behind us, but I knew better than to avert my attention from Lucy, keeping my hooded eyes focused on hers.

“Ask Lucia baby, she’s your treat for tonight.”

Alexia was the only person who got away with calling Lucy that, the only person Lucy respected enough to let it slide, she used it to her advantage as much as possible. I knew she was using it in this forum to get one message across, that even if she was hanging over the reigns to Lucy, she had a form of control, a form of power that Lucy didn’t and she was conveying that with her words.

“Can I eat you out please, Luce?”

Lucy smirked at my question, I could feel the nerves thrumming through her body. She was so confident but you could tell that she just wasn’t feeling that in this environment, her foot tapping ever so slightly against the floorboards.

“I would love nothing more, if La Reina is okay with it.”

Lucy’s eyes rose anxiously to Alexia, she was very clearly trying to figure out how this situation worked, I assumed Alexia would have given her a small debrief before this but I didn’t know for sure, as far as I knew Alexia could have texted Lucy half an hour ago and told her to come over. Lucy was cautious of Alexia, the use of her full first name putting her on her toes, just like I knew Alexia had intended to do.

The last few hours had been a complete blur to me, we’d played this afternoon, an earlier game at 1pm. After that I’d kind of dropped into my headspace, Alexia had sensed it. Once we’d gotten home she’d fed me and then with my consent she’d blindfolded me and kneeled me down on the floor for a while, letting me think properly for the first time in a few weeks. She knew my body better than I did, could sense when I needed her the most, today was one of those days and nothing felt better than her understanding that need.

“Go ahead cariño, show Lucia how good you can be.”

Her words were enough permission for me, I scooted myself further across the floorboards, so my face was practically pressed against Lucy’s boxers. I reached my hands up, so they were secured on the waist band, she lifted her ass up from the bed, giving me room to pull them down and off of her. The first thing I was faced with when I looked back up was Lucy’s fucking beautiful cunt, staring right at me. As Lucy’s thighs fell over my shoulders I was put millimetres away from Lucy’s glistening pussy. Lucy ever so respectfully inched her way down to my face, and as soon as I snapped myself out of my almost sex induced haze I was diving in.

The hunger that overcame me was immense. I kissed my way up and down Lucy’s slit, as much as I wanted to dive in I also wanted to not be greedy or rushed about it. I slowly slid my tongue up and down, parting her folds in the process and exploring her with so much care. I toyed around with Lucy’s entrance and sensitive nub, taking my time in carefully swirling my tongue around the ever so sensitive areas and relishing in the moans that were falling freely from her lips. Lucy slowly started to become more comfortable in the situation and started very gently to hump my face. When I decided she was being too gentle my hands came up to her thighs, digging into the skin and forcing her down further on my face, allowing me to apply more pressure to her.

I ate her out with passion, the way that Ale had taught me. I lapped at Lucy’s waiting cunt, she was practically throbbing against me and I revelled in the feeling of having her juices drip down my face and down onto my bare neck and the blindfold that was now a forgotten article, hanging loosely around my neck. She was fucking delicious and I took advantage off it, slurping up her juices and swallowing it all down. I continued my exploring, experimenting with different pressures and speeds, slowly discovering what forced the sinfully spectacular groans to fall from Lucy’s mouth. I very quickly discovered that her clit was extremely sensitive, any slight touch to it resulting in a set of specific expletives leaving her lips. I honed in on that, working tirelessly at swirling my tongue around her clit and when her thighs started to clench I started to nibble on it slightly, the small bursts of pressure doing wonders for her.

“Fuck, mm, fuck, such a good girl y/n, gonna make me cum.”

I smirked into Lucy’s clit when the grunts left her mouth, they were hardly words though, muffled by Lucy’s own moans and Alexia’s voice in the background, which I couldn’t fully understand in my sex driven haze.

I worked hard at Lucy’s clit, sucking on it and then dipping down to eat her out every once in a while. I pushed my tongue into her pussy and feeling her sex clench against my tongue as she got closer. I began to alternate, sucking hard on Lucy’s clit and then going down further, licking softly at her pussy. It was the perfect combination of soft and hard and it had Lucy’s thighs shaking on top of my shoulders.

“Fuck, so good y/n/n, so fucking good, I’m going to cum, going to cum.”

As soon as the words left her mouth I sucked down hard on her clit, digging my lips and teeth in.

“Cum, Lucia, cum all over our sluts face.”

Ale’s voice was strong, directly spoken in my ear and it was probably enough to make me cum there on the spot, but I didn’t, too focused on Lucy’s body to care about my own. I moaned against her pussy as I felt her clench and come undone. Her thighs shook like a tree in the wind as the orgasm wracked her body. I continued my licks, softening them and flattening my tongue against her slit, licking up every single drip that was released from her pussy as she came down from her high. It was euphoric, feeling Lucy’s salty and sweet liquid gold on my tongue was a different form of special that I couldn’t even explain.

Eventually, once Lucy’s legs had stopped shaking she lifted herself off of me, revealing my face to her, which was covered in her juices. It was then that I spotted Alexia standing over me, her lips kiss swollen and Lucy’s neck adorned with a few developing love bites that I could only assume were accredited to Alexia. She smirked down at me before leaning down to kiss me, licking at the taste of Lucy and getting as it off of my face as she could.

“Such a good girl for Lucia, I think it’s about time we give you some attention, hm?”

I nodded frantically at Alexia, getting Lucy off had a drug like effect on me and I was now in a drugged up sex haze.

“Please.”

Alexia smirked at my pleading and nodded at me.

“I think Lucia is a little bit overdressed for the occasion, how about you help her out?”

I nodded at Alexia, her word was gospel to me and if she wanted me to do something I would do it. She reached her hands out to me and I took them, my legs had gone practically numb from kneeling for so long so her support was well appreciated. My legs wobbled for a few seconds whilst I regained the sensation in my legs. Once the sensation was regained I turned to Lucy, who still seemed to be coming back from her mind shattering orgasm.

I closed the distance between us, seating myself down on the edge of the bed beside her and putting my hands to work immediately. I’d bared her bottom half so I busied myself with unbuttoning her blouse, taking my time with each individual button. The top buttons were already done, courtesy to Alexia who had left a litter of love bites along Lucy’s collar line that were going to be a pain to hide tomorrow for training. It made me smirk slightly.

Lucy, very clearly having regained her energy, got bored waiting for me to unbutton her blouse, and busied herself with leaving some matching marks along my own collarbone. I let her go, I wasn’t training tomorrow anyways, I’d been told to take the day off because of a minor head collision that I’d had during the game, it was pure precaution but I was grateful to have a lie in regardless, fairly happy to miss out on the morning recovery and gym session when I could be cuddled up in bed with Ale and I’s cat and dog.

Once I finally finished with her blouse I threw it across the floor of Ale and I’s room, leaving it with the pile of clothes that had collected on our armchair in the corner. I then moved onto Lucy’s bra, reaching behind her back and unclasping it, smirking as she bit down particularly hard as I pulled the bra from her body.

I let her leave her marks for a little while, sitting back on the bed, Alexia joining us both and joining Lucy at my neck, the both of them occupying themselves with marking me. I couldn’t help but feel the competitive energy between them, they were both dominant individuals in their own right. Alexia was possessive over me as my girlfriend, but so was Lucy on a friend level. Her, Keira and I made up the ‘Spanglish’ trio at Barca and we were practically inseparable, so Lucy was highly protective of me in that way, she had been since we were kids.

“Please.”

Lucy smirked into her spot onto my collarbone, I wasn’t a full on moaning mess yet but I was starting to get worked up but I wanted more.

Lucy picked her head up out of my neck and looked up at me.

“What do you want?”

Lucy looked at Alexia, checking it was all okay and when she got the confirmation there was nothing wrong with her actions she looked back at me.

“More.”

Lucy nodded at me, but she didn’t progress any more.

“Use your words, bebita.” (baby)

I groaned as Alexia’s mouth found it’s way to my pulse point, sucking down deeply on the point and then withdrawing completely.

I whimpered at the lack of contact, my eyes snapping open to look at the two women. The back of Alexia’s palm came down onto the inside of my thigh, without warning, leaving me to yelp out of surprise.

“Lucia asked you to do something, puta (slut), listen to her or we’re going to find ourselves in a very different situation, comprendida?” (Understood?)

I nodded quickly at Alexia, desperate for more attention, desperate for both of their lips to return to my body.

“Si entiendo, lo siento. Please, my pussy.” (Yes, I understand, I’m sorry)

Lucy smirked at me, they were playing coy, toying with me until I broke, it was a game that Ale loved to play and she knew it drove me insane.

“Does your perfect little pussy want some attention? Does it feel all forgotten right now? Are we not giving you enough attention?”

Alexia’s lips returned to my neck, dipping a little bit lower and navigating their way down across my chest. I kept my eyes on Lucy, silently pleading with her to please, give my fucking throbbing pussy some attention, before it fucking imploded below me.

“Please, fuck, Please.”

Lucy licked her lips, it was clear she was gaining enjoyment from riling me up and I couldn’t find it in me to despise her for it, I was just so fucking desperate.

“Mm, Ale do you think she deserves it?”

Ale’s head rose from my chest once again, her lips were swollen and tinged slightly redder than normal.

“I’m not sure, we did promise her some attention if she treated you well, but she can wait longer if we want her to. It’s up to you, she did play so well considering though, and we have been riling her up.”

It was clear Ale was enjoying being the backseat driver for this scene, she always had to have control, always had to be in charge. She loved it but a part of me also knew that she probably didn’t mind taking the passenger seat for a lapse in time, letting Lucy take the reins whilst she took in the moment.

“Mm, what do you want bebita?”

I gulped, moaning at the feeling of Alexia wrapping her tongue around my nipple, the sensation sending shocks throughout my whole body.

“Anything, hands, mouth, please, just anything.”

I was laying the desperation on thick, letting my barriers down to express the pure yearning I had for something, anything to just fucking touch me.

“Alright, I think we can do something about that, hm?”

I nodded at Lucy and moaned as her hand snaked its way down my chest, travelling down the flat surface of my stomach and then the hips. Before I knew it her hand was dipping down below my knees and I was a mess, as soon as a single digit made its way through my folds.

“You're so wet, bebita, we’ve hardly touched you and you're dripping all over the sheets.”

Lucy’s words were just encouragement for me, just another factor in my pleasure. Ale was smirking from her spot against my breasts, fiddling with one of my nipples between her fingers and biting on the other one whilst Lucy explored my cunt with just her finger.

It didn’t take long for the digit to be pushed into my hole. It slid in with ease, my hole adjusting to Lucy’s lone finger fairly quickly.

She worked her way in, knuckle by knuckle, even though she didn’t have to. Moving her finger at a snail like pace, her thumb rubbing lazily against my clit. I needed more, more friction, more movement, more anything. I pushed my hips down against her hand, but almost as soon as I did her hands were off of me.

“If you can’t be patient then your pretty little pussy isn’t getting any attention, comprendida bebita?”

I nodded quickly back at Lucy, any contact was good, anything.

I moaned sinfully as her hands returned to my body, not objecting as Alexia pushed my body backwards against the sheets, so that I was lying down and the two older women were towering over me on the bed, the both of them busying themselves with their self assigned jobs.

I spread my legs for Lucy, allowing her proper access to my body as I focus on Ale’s lips and fingers against my skin, adorning my body with little touches and marks, my senses were heightened from her actions, guaranteeing any touch from Lucy to elicit a fairly filthy moan to leave my mouth.

She kept her movements fairly measured and vague, dipping her finger in every once in a while, otherwise toying with my clit very gently or just working her fingers through my wetness.

It was driving me positively insane and I didn’t know how much more of the little touches and gentleness I could handle, my brain's wiring starting to slowly come undone at the hands of my teammates.

“Please, please, more.”

The words were murmured out between moans, I was becoming a complete mess with the little touches and I hated it, I hated it because all I wanted was to be fucked hard and fast, unforgivingly and the softness of their actions was driving me fucking insane. I was fairly sure they knew it, Alexia could practically read my mind, she had to know that I wanted more, that I was craving more, craving the feeling of being fucked out of my fucking mind.

“Is this not enough for you?”

Lucy’s voice was so fucking condescending, it was driving me insane in all of the best ways.

“Just please more, mas por favor, mas por favor, Luce.” (more please, more please)

I watched contemplation make its way across Lucy’s face, she was clearly deep in thought, planning her next move very carefully.

“Okay bebita, I’ll give you more.”

I didn’t have time to think about her answer, the feeling of two more of her fingers stretching out my hole being enough to have me keeling over in pleasure. It was the perfect, stretch, faster. Everything that I wanted and the feeling of Lucy’s fingers curling perfectly against that spot, was so good that I almost saw stars as soon as she brushed over it.

She kept going at a fairly rigorous pace, slowly edging me towards the line of pure pleasure and it was good. The feeling of Alexia’s teeth grazing my upper body mixed with the combination of Lucy’s actions was euphoric to me, completely addictive.

“Fuck, Luce so good, so fucking good.”

The feeling of her fingertips, slightly coarse from the callouses developed over the years, brushing up against my g-spot was inexplicable, making every single inch of my body warm with pleasure.

“Mm, you going to cum bebita, show us how good you can be?”

Her words were enough to send another set of shocks out across my body, my thighs starting to tremble on either side of Lucy.

“Please, can I cum, please, fuck.”

Alexia lifted her head from my chest, looking at me inquisitively.

“No.”

“She’s been a good girl, Reina.”

Alexia shook her head again, my body having an internal battle as the two women looked between each other and then back down at me.

“Please, Ale, fuck, please.”

Lucy’s hand was still pumping furiously inside of me as the two women stared at each other, both of them wearing similar expressions of stubbornness.

“She can wait, quieres correrte puta?” (do you want to come, slut?)

I nodded furiously at Ale, I was teetering right on the edge of orgasm and I didn’t think I could last much longer, my self control slowly slipping away as Lucy worked at my pussy tirelessly.

“Joder, por favor Ale, por favor.” (Fuck, please Ale, please)

Ale shook her head at me, but in contrast Lucy nodded at me, it was messing with my head, the two of them obviously disagreeing on the topic.

“Lucia, aquí no mandas tu, soy yo. Si quieres usar el juguete con ella más tarde te portarás bien.” (Lucia, you’re not in charge here, I am. If you want to use the toy on her later than you will behave)

Alexia’s Spanish was aggressive and spoken fast enough that I couldn’t understand it properly. Lucy’s Spanish was better than mine, Ale had tried her hardest to teach me in the few months that I’d been here and the years that we’d been dating but I was horrible at learning a new language, Lucy was less shocking then I was and I knew by her facial expression that she understood most, if not all of what Ale was saying to her.

All of a sudden Lucy’s hand was withdrawing itself from my heat, the two women arguing furiously in Spanish above me.

“Me prometiste.” (You promised.)

Ale glared at Lucy before starting a flurry of Spanish that I didn’t even try to translate.

“Estás discutiendo conmigo, Lucia? Quieres siquiera estar aquí? Tal vez deberías irte a casa.”

(Are you arguing with me Lucia? Do you want to be here? Continue and you can go home)

I was no longer being touched, no longer had the attention on me, the two women on top of me completely wrapped up in their fight for dominance to care about my pleasure that I’d been so close to reaching. It annoyed me, listening to the two of them go back and forth in a language that I couldn’t understand. I was fairly certain that Lucy didn’t even fully understand everything Alexia was saying to her, but based on her tone of voice and some of the words she must have been piecing it together.

I watched, slightly annoyed, as the two bit back at each other. It was malicious and boring for me, who had no idea what they were saying and I was honestly to horny to care.

I couldn’t help but let my hand slide down the inside of my thigh, now forgotten by Lucy. If they weren’t going to give me attention I’d give it to myself.

My hand only made it as far as my clit though before it was very quickly snatched by Alexia, her quick reflexes coming into play, one of her hands grabbing my hand that was between my thighs and the other hand coming down on my thigh in a resounding slap.

“Maldita zorra, realmente no puedes esperar, verdad? Entonces jodidamente impaciente. Te arrepentirás.” (Fucking slut, you really can’t wait can you? So fucking impatient, You’re going to regret that.)

I understood those words and they made my core shiver.

Alexia made quick work of finding my other hand, pulling the forgotten blindfold over my head. It was still slightly damp with Lucy’s juices, Alexia brought my two wrists together above my head and used the once blindfold to secure them together, so they were bound above my head, resting on the pillows behind me.

“I think it’s about time we give you what you want, hm, you're so impatient today, so needy to be filled. What do you want, tell me slut.”

Alexia’s hand was grasping my chin now and it was all becoming too much for me, my brain overstimulating itself from the sudden attention.

“Por favor, fóllame.” (Please, just fuck me.)

Alexia smirked at my pleading, she loved it when I spoke Spanish to her, I think she was a little bit proud of me when I did.

“Is that what you want, for me or Lucia to use the strap on you, stuff you full?”

I nodded furiously at Alexia, as much as I could with the grip she had on my chin.

“Si, please Luce, fill me up?”

Lucy’s jaw almost dropped to the floor at my words, I could tell she was trying her hardest to keep herself composed but my words had gotten to her.

“Second draw, of the dresser, Lucia.”

Lucy was up off the bed almost immediately, Ale busying herself with one of my nipples, rubbing the little nub in between her two fingers, toying with it in a painfully sensitive way whilst pressing gentle kisses along my jawline.

In what I was certain was record time Lucy had returned to the bed, this time with Alexia’s favourite strap fastened across her hips. I wished I could take a mental picture of Lucy kneeling in between my legs, Alexia and I’s favourite dildo hanging securely between her legs.

“I think you’ve prepped her enough with your fingers, she’s soaked so you shouldn’t need lube.”

Alexia nodded at Lucy reassuringly, any past argument and tension between the two now dismissed by the overall theme of giving me pleasure.

The feeling of the tip of the dildo pushing through my folds was enough to have my back arching against the bed. Alexia’s lips on my jaw long forgotten as Lucy oh so gently pushed into my entrance. It was pure ecstasy, illicit moans leaving my mouth as she pushed the length of the cock into my cunt, my pussy devouring every inch until Lucy’s hips were pressed against my own. She sat like that for a few seconds, letting me adjust to the intrusion before starting to rock back and forth. My hips met hers on every single thrust, my body pushing itself down against her to try and get as much off the dildo crammed into me as I could.

Lucy was leaning over me, Ale’s lips leaving my body to meet Lucy’s, the two of them meeting in a teeth clashing kiss, the both of them fighting for dominance in the kiss whilst Lucy continued to push into me at a unrelenting pace, it was so fucking good, the sex equivalent to drugs. I was practically incoherent, moans and half words leaving my mouth as Lucy pounded into me.

“Ale, please can I cum, por favor.”

Alexia removed her lips from Lucy’s for long enough to speak to me.

“Cum, cum cãrino, once you start though you aren’t stopping until Lucia and I are done, comprendida?”

I didn’t even need to listen to the second half of Ale’s words, my body already spasming as my orgasm washed over me. My vision went black and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as everything blurred and everything mellowed out for a few seconds as I bathed in the post orgasmic bliss. Then, suddenly, it all came crashing back down on me, the feeling of Lucy still pounding into my now very sensitive pussy was too much, too much feeling, too much pleasure, too much everything and I could feel the tears springing to my eyes.

“No más, No más.”

Ale looked down at me, smirking slightly as the tears leaked from my eyes. I was so over stimulated, I could feel absolutely everything, my senses heightened beyond anything I was used to all a sudden.

“One more bebita, give us one more, I know you can do it cãrino, let go for us.”

The mixture of Ale’s words and Lucy pressing a soft kiss to my breast was enough to send me over the edge for a second time, my body trembling uncontrollably with the aftershocks as I blacked out completely from the mixture of pleasure and dull pain. I went limp against our sheets, my body completely done and tired from the actions of the night.

I felt Lucy slowly ease out of me and Ale getting up from the mattress beside me, I mewled slightly at the abrupt complete loss of contact but relaxed when I felt Lucy’s toned body slide in beside me, pulling the covers of the bed over the two of us and bringing my head up to her chest. I kept my eyes closed, still shaking from my orgasm. Lucy unwrapped my hands from their bonds ever so gently, rubbing at the place that the silk had been before guiding them to her stomach, resting my hands against her stomach, letting me gently draw circles against the surface of her skin. Lucy moved onto gently running her hands through my hair, combing out any knots that had come from our activities, her hands ever so carefully working their way through my tresses, using the perfect amount of pressure to tug at the lengths but not tugging hard enough to hurt. She worked gently at my scalp, her hands massaging my skin.

It wasn’t long before Ale returned to us, sliding in on the other side of me, one of her hands making it’s way to my bicep, gently rubbing the skin with her hands, letting her hand press in just enough for me to find comfort in the action.

I opened my eyes slightly when she pressed down on my bicep hard enough to get my attention. She waved a water bottle in my direction and I understood the memo. I sat myself up a little bit against Lucy, my whole body practically leaning against her. Ale handed me a bottle and then moved on to pressing on into Lucy’s palm, ordering me to drink and me not having the energy to say no to her. The water felt good going in, cooling my now slightly sore throat.

“How’s the head, mi amor?”

There was worry laced between Alexia’s eyebrow as she looked my body up and down, looking for any signs that I was anything but okay. She was always worrying about me, especially when I got injured.

“Fine, a little bit sore but okay.”

Alexia nodded at me, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to my forehead before turning her head in Lucy’s direction.

“Lucia Roberta, drink some water.”

Lucy perked up at Alexia’s words, opening her drink bottle dutifully and taking a few sips before placing it on the bedside table next to her. Alexia rolled her eyes at Lucy but didn’t push it, wrapping an arm around my torso and relaxing against my body.

“How was it amar, everything you wanted?”

I nodded against Alexia, from my spot sandwiched in between her chest and Lucy’s.

“It was fucking perfect.”

Alexia smirked at my words.

“How about you Lucia?”

I felt Lucy inhale from her spot above me, the woman leaning down to press a kiss to both Alexia and I’s cheeks before replying.

“Words couldn’t describe.”

I snorted into Lucy’s chest, finding solace in the warmth of the two bodies I was in between, everything feeling so perfect and right in that moment.

“Get some sleep you two, you both deserve it after how perfect you were on the field.”

I smiled into Alexia’s chest, unable to suppress the eyeroll at her way of bringing her captaining into the fucking bedroom.

“Love you Ale, Love you Luce.”

I relaxed into the two bodies beside them. We would talk about how it had come about in the morning, talk about doing this again, I was sure of it. For now though, I was happy lying between the two women, willing to let my body loosen up and relax in the safety of the two women's arms.

[voidpetrova]

fading boundaries — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genres: swearing, possessiveness, slut-shaming — fluff

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: jeremy never should've allowed himself to fall for you. he was a hunter, and it went against his beliefs to fall for you, a vampire. his jealousy and hatred only grow when he sees that you've caught everybody's attention, not just his

✧.*

the moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow upon the quiet streets of mystic falls. jeremy leaned against a lamppost, his gaze fixed on the mansion that stood at the edge of the town. his heart raced, a conflicted maelstrom of emotions swirling within him. he had never thought he'd find himself in this position, torn between duty and desire.

it had all started with a chance encounter. an innocent moment that had ignited a spark he couldn't ignore. you, a vampire, had entered his life, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that jeremy struggled to unravel. his heart despised itself for succumbing to feelings he'd been taught to reject.

jeremy was a vampire hunter, trained in the art of tracking and eliminating the supernatural creatures that prowled the night. it was a duty passed down through generations of his family, a legacy that weighed heavily on his shoulders. but destiny had a way of blurring lines, and now he found himself drawn to the very beings he was supposed to hunt.

his thoughts were a whirlwind of self-loathing and confusion. every stolen glance, every shared moment—each one etched deeper into his soul. the undeniable truth was that he was falling in love with you, a vampire, an existence that clashed with everything he believed in.

and what stung even more was the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who held your attention. damon salvatore, with his devilish charm and enigmatic allure, had a way of commanding the room whenever he entered. and then there was stefan, the brooding and tortured soul, whose longing gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness straight into your heart.

jealousy gnawed at jeremy's insides, a bitter taste that he tried to ignore. he had seen the way you interacted with the salvatore brothers—moments that seemed to play out like a dance of secrets and shared histories. it made him question his place in your life, a place that seemed minuscule in comparison.

as he stood there in the moonlit night, jeremy's fingers clenched around the pendant that hung around his neck—a symbol of his lineage, a reminder of his duty. but the more he tried to push you away, the tighter the invisible thread between you two seemed to become.

his internal struggle was far from over, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. little did he know that the intricate web of emotions and choices would lead him down a path of self-discovery, testing the boundaries of love, jealousy, and the blurred lines between right and wrong.

the salvatore mansion's grand ballroom was aglow with soft candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the ornate walls. it was one of those rare occasions when the town's supernatural residents and humans mingled under the same roof, an uneasy truce that brought tension to the air.

jeremy watched from a distance as the guests swirled around, their laughter and music blending into a symphony of decadence. his gaze shifted to you, standing near the center of the room, your elegance and beauty drawing the eye of everyone present, including his.

he clenched his jaw, a mix of emotions surging within him. tonight, he had told himself, would be different. he would keep his jealousy in check and try to find a way to coexist with the knowledge that he wasn't the only one vying for your attention. but fate had other plans.

stefan salvatore, his usually composed façade replaced with a smile that could charm even the most steadfast hearts, approached you. jeremy's heart tightened as he observed the scene unfolding before him.

“may i have this dance?” stefan's voice held a velvety quality that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

you smiled, your eyes meeting his. “of course, stefan.”

as you and stefan swayed to the rhythm of the music, jeremy's fingers clenched into fists at his sides. he had seen this before, the way stefan had an uncanny ability to draw people in, to make them feel like they were the center of the universe. but right now, it was you who had his attention, and that was something jeremy was finding increasingly difficult to accept.

he turned away, his breath coming in short, frustrated bursts. he walked briskly toward the balcony, seeking the solace of the cool night air. the night sky stretched out before him, stars twinkling overhead like distant, unattainable dreams.

“hey.”

the voice behind him made jeremy's muscles tense. he turned to find damon leaning casually against the balcony railing, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

“damon,” jeremy muttered, his tone guarded.

damon arched an eyebrow, his lips curving into a half-smile. “trouble in paradise?”

jeremy's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

damon took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on jeremy. “you know, jealousy doesn't suit you, kid.”

jeremy's eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and vulnerability. “what do you know about it?”

damon's gaze softened slightly. “more than you might think. look, there's a lot you don't understand about this world, about us.”

jeremy's fists clenched again, his frustration mounting. “and what? you're here to offer me some kind of wisdom?”

damon's tone turned serious. “i'm here to remind you that life's too short to let jealousy eat you alive. if you care about her, you'll figure out a way to deal with it. otherwise, you're just gonna end up miserable.”

jeremy's anger was replaced by a mix of resignation and realization. he stared out at the night sky, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

as the party continued inside, jeremy took a deep breath, letting damon's words sink in. it was a battle within himself that he needed to confront—a battle between his feelings for you and the jealousy that threatened to consume him.

jeremy's frustration simmered beneath the surface, an undercurrent of emotions that he struggled to contain. he turned his gaze back to the ballroom, his eyes finding you still dancing with stefan. the jealousy that had been a constant companion flared into something more potent—a raging fire that threatened to consume him whole.

he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to regain his composure. the music seemed to mock him, the cheerful notes contrasting starkly with the turmoil within his heart.

“still having your pity party?”

the voice that interrupted his thoughts was familiar, and yet, it grated on his already frayed nerves. damon had followed him once more in order to keep an eye on him, his piercing gaze assessing jeremy's clenched stance.

his jaw tightened, his resentment aimed at both damon and the situation. “why do you even care?”

damon's gaze held a mixture of exasperation and something else—something jeremy couldn't quite decipher. he gave a casual shrug. “just thought you could use some company out here. you seem a bit on edge.”

jeremy's frustration bubbled over. “you're not helping, asshole. if you wanna be helpful, stay out of my business.”

damon's eyes glinted mischievously, his lips curling into a faint smile. “oh, come on, don't be like that. it's a party. let loose a little.”

jeremy's patience wore thin, his anger bubbling to the surface. “i don't need your advice, and i definitely don't need you interfering.”

damon's smile only widened, his gaze flickering to the ballroom. “speaking of which—”

before jeremy could react, damon turned away and strolled back into the ballroom. he seamlessly joined you and stefan on the dance floor, his presence commanding attention. jeremy watched as damon skillfully guided you through the dance, his movements smooth and calculated.

stefan's laughter mixed with the music, and you seemed caught between the two salvatore brothers, your eyes flickering between them as you danced.

damon's voice, dripping with charm, reached jeremy's ears as he exchanged flirtatious banter with you. “you know, you really know how to light up the room.”

stefan's response was equally playful, his voice laced with innuendo. “oh, damon, flattery won't get you everywhere.”

you laughed, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “boys, you're both shameless.”

damon's eyes held a challenge as he twirled you. “can you blame us? when a stunning girl like you graces us with her presence?”

stefan chimed in, his fingers brushing against yours. “it's impossible not to be captivated.”

jeremy's anger surged, a mix of jealousy and rage burning within him. he had to clench his fists to keep from storming into the ballroom. the sight of you being courted by both stefan and damon ignited a fire in him that he couldn't ignore.

the dance continued, each word exchanged between you, stefan, and damon stoking jeremy's fury. he felt like an outsider, an observer to a scene that was slowly driving him to the edge.

finally, the dance came to an end, but the tension in the air lingered. damon and stefan shared a knowing smirk, leaving jeremy seething on the balcony.

as the two of them sauntered away, he stood there, his heart racing and his emotions in turmoil. he had never felt so powerless, so consumed by jealousy. the night air did little to soothe his frayed nerves, and he was left grappling with the realization that the battle for your attention was far from over.

the moon cast a silvery glow over the deserted alleyway, the shadows playing tricks on the eyes. jeremy leaned against a brick wall, his jaw clenched as he watched you approach. the tension between you two was palpable, a result of the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter.

“jeremy,” you greeted, your tone laced with a mix of amusement and condescension. “what brings you to the dark side of town? looking for a quick fix again?”

he shot you a glare, his eyes narrowing. “just figured i'd see what you're up to. not like i've got anything better to do.”

you chuckled softly, your lips curving into a sardonic smile. “ah, the illustrious life of a vampire hunter. must be quite the thrill.”

jeremy's fists tightened, his irritation evident. “more thrilling than a never-ending existence, i'd say.”

you raised an eyebrow, a spark of challenge in your gaze. “at least i don't have to worry about growing old and wrinkled.”

he retorted with a smirk, his sarcasm matching yours. “yeah, immortality does wonders for the complexion.”

the banter continued, each word exchanged between you a careful dance of barbs and retorts. the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter was a thick fog that enveloped the conversation, masking the underlying currents of tension.

you tilted your head, your tone mocking. “so, what's the plan, jerm? lure me into a trap, perhaps? or maybe you're here to try and convince me to give up my evil ways”

his gaze held a mix of defiance and frustration. “i don't need to convince you of anything. your track record speaks for itself.”

you chuckled, your laughter like a cool breeze on a summer night. “ah, jeremy, always the charmer. it's a wonder you haven't won over every vampire in town with your winning personality.”

his eyes flared with anger, his patience wearing thin. “says the vampire who can't seem to resist dancing with every salvatore brother in sight.”

the mention of the salvatores seemed to strike a chord, your expression flickering for a moment before you masked it with a smirk. “jealousy doesn't suit you, little gilbert. but i must admit, it's quite the entertainment watching you try to keep up.”

he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “at least i'm not pretending to be something i'm not.”

you took a step closer, your gaze locking onto his. “and what's that, exactly? the tortured soul with a chip on his shoulder?”

jeremy's voice turned cold, his words a dagger aimed at your heart. “better than being a bloodsucking slut.”

you laughed, the sound echoing through the alleyway like a haunting melody. “oh, jeremy, you have no idea what you're missing out on.”

as the tension between you two continued to escalate, the words you exchanged were like a battlefield of wit and resentment. the lines between enemies and allies were blurred, the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

and as the moonlight bathed the alley in its silvery glow, the clash of wills between vampire and vampire hunter seemed to echo the timeless struggle between light and darkness.

the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar, a familiar meeting place for the residents of mystic falls. the entire gang had gathered there for a rare moment of respite, a chance to unwind amid the constant chaos that seemed to engulf their lives.

you stood by the pool table, a cue stick in hand as you lined up your shot. the sharp crack of the balls echoed through the air as you sank one into a corner pocket. stefan, ever the gentleman, approached from behind, a smile playing on his lips.

“nice shot,” he remarked, his voice laced with admiration.

you turned to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “thanks, stef. guess i have a natural talent for handling sticks.”

stefan's grin widened, his charm evident. “oh, i'm sure you do. but the real question is, can you handle the pressure?” you bit your lip, locking eyes with your favorite vampire. “how about you give me some pressure worth handling?”

his laughter mingled with yours, the two of you sharing a moment that seemed to ignite a spark in the air. as you lined up your next shot, the flirtatious exchange continued, the chemistry between you and stefan undeniable.

jeremy, nursing a drink at the bar, watched the scene unfold with a mixture of irritation and jealousy. the snarky remarks you and stefan exchanged felt like a constant reminder of his own frustration, a reminder of the feelings he was desperately trying to suppress.

damon, leaning against the bar beside jeremy, chimed in. “looks like our friend jeremy here could use a bit of that playful banter in his life.”

jeremy shot him a glare. “i'd rather not engage in childish games.”

damon raised an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. “pity, really. you're missing out on all the fun.”

as the night wore on, the tension between you and jeremy seemed to escalate with every sarcastic barb. the energy was thick with resentment and a tangled web of emotions, a battle of words that had become a battlefield of its own.

elena, sensing the growing hostility, exchanged a concerned look with bonnie. with a knowing glance, elena approached her brother, her expression firm yet empathetic. “you need to talk to her, jeremy.”

he looked at her incredulously. “why would i do that?”

elena's gaze softened, her voice gentle. “because this jealousy isn't healthy, and it's only getting worse. you have to be honest with yourself and with her.”

jeremy's gaze hardened, his anger still simmering. “why does it even matter?”

elena's voice was steady. “because you can't keep pretending that your feelings for her don't exist. it's not fair to either of you.”

with a sigh, jeremy leaned against the bar, his defenses crumbling. he watched as you shared another flirtatious smile with stefan, the jealousy gnawing at him like a persistent ache.

finally, he approached you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “can we talk?”

you turned to him, your gaze cool but curious. “sure, if you can handle a conversation without your usual bitchiness.”

he nodded, the tension between you two palpable. as you stepped away from the pool table and found a quieter corner, the echoes of the bar's chaos faded into the background.

the corner you found was dimly lit, the ambient noise of the bar fading into a distant murmur as you and jeremy faced each other. the tension between you was increasing, an unspoken storm of emotions swirling in the air.

jeremy cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “look, i know I've been an asshole, and I've said a lot of things i didn't mean. but the truth is—i've been struggling with something i didn't want to admit.”

you arched an eyebrow, your voice laced with skepticism. “and what's that, jer?”

he took a deep breath, his voice earnest. “i've been jealous. jealous of the attention you get, especially from stefan. i've been hiding my feelings behind snarky comments and sarcasm, but the reality is—i care about you. more than i should.”

your gaze softened, the walls around your heart beginning to crumble. his honesty was unexpected, and it touched something within you that you had been trying to bury.

“you know, jeremy,” you said softly, “it's not easy being a vampire in a world where vampire hunters exist. there's a constant struggle to reconcile who i am with what i've become.”

he nodded, his expression understanding. “i get that. i do. and maybe that's why i've been pushing you away, because i couldn't handle my own conflicting emotions.”

you took a step closer, the distance between you closing. “so, what now?”

jeremy's gaze locked onto yours, his voice steady. “i want to stop pretending. i want to stop fighting what i feel, even if it means admitting that I'm not as strong as i thought.”

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “that's a start.”

before either of you could say another word, the tension that had been building between you erupted into a fiery passion. his lips crashed against yours, a mixture of longing and pent-up emotions spilling over in the form of a scorching kiss.

the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of you in that moment. it was a kiss fueled by months of frustration, desire, and a newfound honesty that had broken down the barriers between you.

when the kiss finally ended, you both pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed. the air was charged with electricity, the connection between you stronger than ever before.

“wow,” jeremy muttered, his voice a mixture of surprise and wonder.

you grinned, your heart pounding in your chest. “yeah, wow.”

the weight of unspoken words hung in the air, a promise of what could be if you both chose to let go of the past and embrace the uncertain future.

as you stood there, hand in hand, the possibilities stretched out before you like an open road. the complexities of your emotions were no longer a barrier, but a bridge—a bridge that could lead to something unexpected, something beautiful, and something worth the risk.

[soft-and-bitter]

We Can Last Forever

Mafia!Bucky x Ex!Reader

You turn to an old flame in a moment of desperation. Bucky takes full advantage of the situation to bargain for something he's wanted as soon as he set eyes on you.

Word Count: 1853

Warning(s): swearing, descriptions drug use and sexual situations

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

M A S T E R L I S T

"Look who we have here," he murmured, smirking. There wasn't a trace of worry in his tone, nor on his handsome face. And for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, these facts only served to elevate your own stress, the urgency of the situation now clearer than ever.

Bucky was your last resort.

"Hi," you greeted. Despite the sheer brevity involved, even you could hear how unsure you sounded, but it was just as well; you were winging this after all, what with all your options up in flames. On the other hand, you also couldn't fuck this up either, because what else would you come up with if this didn't work out?

With a deep breath, you tried again. "Hi, Bucky. I'm sorry this is so last minute."

He tilted his head, the black turtleneck he wore accentuating the steep line of his jaw. "It wouldn't have been if you'd called ahead of time. Oh, wait," he said, lip curling, "you got rid of my number from your phone. How could I have ever forgotten?"

You looked away, both hands gripping your phone behind your purse. Rather than place it next to you on the plush sofa, you'd opted to set it on your lap. Maybe you saw it as a barrier, however meagre, just something other than the distance that separated you from Bucky. For protection? But it was you who had sought him out, not the other way around.

There was no stilling your frantic thoughts, all those contradictions and uncertainties colliding against each other to form some ugly kaleidoscope of confusion in your head. Several stories below, the club was at the height of its frenzy, the bass throbbing faintly against the walls of Bucky's office, a cursed soundtrack to score the situation you were in, with no promise it was ending anytime soon.

"I . . . it felt like the right thing to do at the time," you tried explaining, still clutching your phone tightly. "I wasn`t ready to deal with the truth."

He chuckled softly. "Yet here you are," he said, each word sliding past his lips in a slow drawl. "I guess there's no keeping me out of your life after all, despite that text of yours."

You turned your head to look back up at him again. Bucky was leaning against his expansive chrome and glass desk, long fingers curled around the edges. His jet-black suit was tailored within an inch of its life; one of his cufflinks winking at you playfully, as if amused by your discomfort and panic.

"You're right, I guess I can't."

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, it is what it is. Now tell me why you're here."

Here was your moment, your golden opportunity. You didn't shy away from the details. Why would you when everything you described was all part of his sordid world, the drugs and the money owed, the nefarious parties involved? And so you laid it all out before him like a spread made up of your family's suffering: stressed and overworked, David had gone back to an old habit his dirt bag of an uncle had first introduced him to more than a decade ago. One hit after another, then another, and now your brother—the smarter of the two, in your opinion, and certainly the more successful—was now in so much debt he'd brought up the possibility of selling your mom's home for cash.

Bucky didn't react when you told him how much you needed to borrow. That soothed your nerves somewhat; if he wasn't fazed by the amount, then maybe he'd be more willing to part with his money.

You hoped.

"We'll have the money back in your hands before you even get a chance to miss it," you assured with a smile you hoped was blinding enough for Bucky. "David just has to get through this hump, but once he does, everything will be fine."

Just for a moment you wondered whose worries you were really trying to assuage—Bucky's or yours? Because paying off David's dealer was one thing, but your brother had also promised to check into rehab asap. Yet even with his high-paying FAANG job in Silicon Valley, he had already blown through his savings, together with any credit he'd been approved for. To top it all off, the massive bonus he kept harping on about wouldn't get paid out until the end of the year. You yourself had funnelled whatever money you could spare to help his cause. Where the hell would the money come from until then?

Bucky sighed audibly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You haven't exactly explained why I should help you in the first place," he said.

He wasn't wrong, you realized. And really, it was what you`d hoped to avoid all along. "Listen, I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but . . . I guess I thought we had something special going on between us. Special enough that I felt I could turn to you."

"You're right, I don't believe you," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Try harder, won't you?"

You stared up at him, a furrow between your brows. "It's the truth, Bucky. I was scared, okay? And let's face it: you knew I'd be, didn't you? Otherwise you would've told me from the start what the hell you really were."

He didn't respond to that right away. In the silence that ensued, with the club's bass pounding at the same speed as your heartbeat, you began to doubt yourself. Couldn't you have handled that with a little more finesse? What if Bucky was offended by your response that he decided he was going to turn you away?

When he finally spoke, it was with an edge of mockery and triumph in his voice. "Just so we're clear: you've come to ask a crime lord to help you when the very fact of me being one had you running off in the first place."

"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."

Bucky scoffed. "I sure hope the irony's not lost on you."

The smile you offered him was sardonic at best. "Believe me, it's not."

Just when you were convinced that you'd screwed this up entirely, Bucky pushed himself off the edge of his desk and moved towards you, closing the distance. Neon blue strobe lights flashed through the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the club, casting otherworldly shadows across his face as he stalked nearer. You didn't turn your head to watch when he dropped into the sofa next to you, stretching his arms wide across the headrest. His fingers feathered against one of your shoulder blades.

From the corner of your eye you watched as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, sighing once again. "If you want my help, you'll comply with whatever I set out for you," he said.

"Like what?"

You could feel his gaze on you. "For starters, I'd like a kiss."

"Are you serious? Now?"

"Now," he echoed.

"And that's it?"

He gave a light shrug. "The night's still young. We'll just have to see how things go."

"But why?"

"Why not?" he countered, fingers drumming against the headrest. "Besides, you're the one who thought there was something special between us. Let's see what's left."

For a moment, you hesitated. Bucky's request was simple, but that was where the uncertainty lay. There was something between the two of you, even now, even after you left him in the lurch, that it was enough for you to reach out to him. You were doubtful a kiss would prove that to him, though.

There had been so much more you'd done with him, after all.

"Well?"

You studied his face. His expression was still passive, but curiosity shone bright in his eyes. What choice did you have? David was counting on you now, his own fear and panic elevating your own. With a tilt of your head you leaned forward, eyes falling closed, as you caught Bucky's lips with yours.

Bucky didn't react at first, and you nearly stopped, too shy and uncertain to entertain the possibility of being unwanted, that this was just a cheap way for him to get back at you. But then his lips moved against yours, bold and intentional; when he coaxed your mouth opened and his tongue slid past your teeth, you realized.

He still wanted you.

Both your phone and your purse dropped somewhere below you as one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. Bucky drew you in deeper, his hold fierce, lips desperate and bruising, pulling you into a well of memories: his naked body against yours, mouth lingering on intimate spots that made you cry out in ecstasy, the sweet words he'd whispered in your ear while you came down from your high. Let me give you more. Let me give you everything. You just have to stay. Can you do that? For me?

His lips latched onto the side of your neck as you lost yourself further in his touch, fingers tangled in his dark hair, while his large hand fanned across your breast—

Your phone was like a grenade going off. You jerked back in panic, gasping for breath while the familiar melody on your device blared throughout the room. It was Bucky who got to it first.

"How fitting," he said, turning your phone around so you could see the screen. "It's your brother."

Heart hammering in your chest, you didn't move at first.

"Go ahead, answer it," he ordered, holding out your phone to you. "Tell David the money will be wired to his account in less than thirty and he's got you to thank for this."

His words were like a bucket of cold water flung at your face. With sudden clarity you remembered why you'd come here in the first place, and it wasn't to re-ignite things with an old flame. You needed Bucky's help, and, to your immense relief, he was giving it to you.

When you accepted your brother's call you cut straight to the chase, telling him of the lifeline Bucky was throwing his way. The only one, you emphasized, hanging up before he could profess any gratitude. David had work to do, but you'd done your part. Your mom would get to keep her house, just like she deserved to.

You looked at Bucky. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to my family."

He smirked at you, his hair now tousled thanks to your doing. "Don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. We're not quite done, are we?"

During the call one of his hands had crept along the inside of your thigh. It remained there, his hold entirely too tight and too hot, even through the fabric of your slacks. When Bucky spoke, you didn't miss the raw desire in his voice, the predatory anticipation that lingered on his smirk.

"We'll finally finish what we started, sweetheart. Just like we were always meant to."

Jimin's "Like Crazy" had me in such a chokehold when I first listened to it that it inspired this whole damn story; it's the song I imagined blasting down in the club while Reader haggles with Bucky. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

[cosmicjoke]

Armin's Role in Levi's Choice, and the Threat of Erwin's Corruption and Mental Degradation:

Alright, boys and girls, I'm going into this again, because I want to focus specifically on an aspect of Levi's choice in Shinganshina which, sadly, I'm reminded over and over again by people, is widely misunderstood or flatly ignored, and that's both Armin's pivotal role in Levi choosing as he did, and also, Erwin's own impending mental and moral collapse.

People often accuse Levi of letting his personal feelings for Erwin get in the way of making the "right" choice that day in Shinganshina, and they support this claim by making the further claim that Levi hampered humanity's chances for victory by letting Erwin die, Erwin being the great leader that he was, etc, etc... This view is shared, not unironically, I think, by everybody's favorite AoT character, Floch, who we know is a bastion of human empathy and understanding (insert sarcasm here). Because if we should believe anybody about what was really motivating Levi that day, it should be Floch, (insert further sarcasm). But I say no to these accusations, because they're undeniably refuted by what transpires in the panels of the manga itself.

Now, lets look at these panels, because we're going to analyze and break this down:

Erwin admits to Levi here that seeing what's in Eren's basement, "learning the truth about this world", as he says, is more important to him than humanity's victory. And Levi's response to that is to say "Fine. Erwin, I'll trust your judgment.". Meaning that he's trusting Erwin still to do the right thing, to make the right choice, and should things go south on them, and humanity's victory is compromised by Erwin's judgement-call, then the responsibility for that will be on Erwin and Erwin alone. Levi is both reaffirming his trust in Erwin as a leader, while also acknowledging that Erwin is suddenly, uncharacteristically, threatening to compromise the mission of the Survey Corps for selfish gain. Something which goes against every belief Levi has ever held about Erwin as a leader and a man. Levi's anger and frustration is rooted in that shaking of foundation, in the uncertainty that he now has to confront about Erwin's fitness as a leader.

What's important to remember about Erwin and this moment, is that it isn't the first instance in which he's prioritized his own, personal dream above humanity's victory. He did so as well when he orchestrated the military coup, overthrowing the nobility. Erwin admits this to Zackely, when he confesses that he isn't sure if overthrowing the nobility was really the best move for humanity, and we start to see the first cracks in Erwin's otherwise impenetrable armor.

His insistence, here, that he'll be going on the mission to Shinganshina, is the second instance in which he's placing his own, personal dream above humanity's victory.

Where before Erwin had never once compromised the SC mission for his personal dream, he's now done so twice, in short succession.

Levi, before this, had spoken with Kenny about dreams, and dreams ability to corrupt and compromise us as human beings. And we're seeing that in action here with Erwin. His dream has begun to corrupt him.

But Levi doesn't realize yet how deeply the corruption in Erwin has begun to take root. Hasn't, in fact, yet accepted that corruption in Erwin at all. He's beginning to suspect it, but he still believes in Erwin as a leader. He still trusts his judgment, as he says. He's still deferring to Erwin's judgment over his own instincts.

And Levi won't realize how deep the corruption in Erwin goes, and won't accept it, until the pivotal moment of decision, up on the roof in Shinganshina.

Now let's talk about these panels, because these are vital in understanding what Levi decides next.

The juxtaposition here of Erwin, Armin and Kenny means everything.

Levi remembers asking Erwin what happens next, once he discovers what's in Eren's basement, and Erwin admits that he doesn't know. All he knows is that he wants desperately to see what's in that basement, and after that, he has no idea. There's no grand plan, no further motivation, no vision for the future of humanity.

Then Levi recalls Kenny's words about dreams, "they couldn't keep going unless they were drunk on something", and this memory is followed by Levi's looking over at Armin's charred body, with Kenny's words ringing in his head "They were all slaves to something. Even him.". We then see Erwin's hand lift up, symbolically smacking the serum away from his arm, and he begins to ramble incoherently, lost in a memory of asking his father how he knows humanity doesn't exist beyond the walls.

It's in THIS moment that Levi realizes that Erwin hasn't been released from the grip of his dream. In his delirious, dying state, it's exposed as the thing that still drives Erwin forward, the thing that still matters to him most. His dream still has him shackled. His dream is still corrupting him.

Again, we've already seen this corruption begin to take root and manifest in Erwin making decisions which directly compromise and endanger humanity's victory, first in orchestrating the military coup, and then in insisting on being in Shinganshina himself.

Levi recalling Kenny's specific words "They were all slaves to something. Even him." is him realizing that Erwin is a slave to his dream. That he can't and won't be able to let it go. He recalls having to order Erwin to do so, to "give up on your dreams and die for us", and then Erwin thanking him for that. He realizes Erwin thanked him because Erwin knew he wouldn't have been able to make that right choice on his own. He realizes that if he hadn't made the choice for Erwin, Erwin wouldn't have been able to give up on his dream. Instead, he would have given in to the corrupting force of his dream, and chosen it over humanity. Just like he did the night before, when he refused to back down from his insistence that he accompany the mission. When he refused Levi's request for him to stay behind.

Levi realizes that Erwin has already been corrupted by his dream. And he realizes that once that dream is realized, Erwin will no longer have anything left to motivate him forward, nothing to be drunk on to keep him from the further degradation and corruption of his mind. He'll no longer be the great leader and visionary he'd once been. He'll be a husk of himself, ruined by the selfishness of his dream, and the guilt he carried as a consequence. Eaten alive by his own demons.

We see this in direct contrast to Armin's burned body, and Levi's memory of his hopeful and innocent eyes from the night before, talking about his own dream of seeing the ocean.

This contrast is majorly important in understanding why Levi ultimately chooses to give the serum to Armin and not Erwin.

Because unlike Erwin, Armin WAS able to give up on his dream and die for humanity. He didn't need anyone to make that choice for him. He made that choice by himself. He willingly sacrificed his life for humanity, and willingly accepted that he would never get to see the ocean, content with the hope that Eren would get to see it in his stead.

Levi realizes, in that moment, that unlike Erwin, Armin hasn't been corrupted by his dream. It wasn't the only thing driving him forward. He wasn't "drunk" on it. He could give up on it for the sake of everyone else. He could sacrifice it.

And that plays a major role in why Levi chose as he did.

It wasn't a case of him prioritizing Erwin over humanity. It was a case of understanding that Erwin's sacrifice, in the end, wasn't self-motivated, and that his dream still controlled him, and would continue to control him, and that truth wouldn't change when he finally realized his dream, but simply leave him bereft, with nothing to shield him from the crushing guilt which had begun to seep in with the realization of his own selfishness, his increasing willingness to prioritize his dream over humanity.

It was a case of Levi realizing that Armin's ability to give up on his dream was also a marker of that's dreams purity, and Armin's own innocence and lack of corruption as a person.

It was a case of Levi realizing that where it was already too late for Erwin to escape that fate Kenny had talked about, it wasn't so for Armin. He reiterates this later on, when he talks about choosing Armin because he "had the same look in his eyes as all of you", meaning his comrades at the beginning of all of it, before they'd been beaten down and ruined by the ugliness of war and dreams.

It was as much that lack of corruption in Armin that made Levi's choice for him, as it was the corruption which had taken root in and begun to eat away at Erwin.

In order for all of their sacrifices to have been worth it, as Levi later says, it would have to have been for an absurdly idealistic world. What that means is, it would have to be for a dream that was pure and without corruption. That's the only thing that would make all of their sacrifices worth it in the end.

And Armin's dream was pure and without corruption.

The very thing they were fighting for was the purity that Levi saw in Armin. Very literally and figuratively, Armin encapsulated the ideal the members of the Survey Corps had given up their lives for. That absurdly idealistic world. A world of freedom and free will and choice.

To choose Erwin would have been a betrayal of that ideal, because Erwin was a slave to his dream. He'd become the very thing the Survey Corps was fighting against. Enslavement.

Armin was a slave to nothing. To choose him was to prove the worth of every fallen soldiers sacrifice. To choose him was to realize the dream they'd all died for.

[daddypriceugh]

Useless pt. 2

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Here is part 2 I hope you like it :)

@Msdevil333 inspired me

Tw: none

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It's been two weeks since you and Simon had your fight. Two weeks since you had last seen him.

Don't get me wrong he did try to talk to you. Quite often. But you never had the heart to answer the calls. The words he said are still ringing in your ears, causing your heart to break even more.

You tried to forget the whole thing by thinking that he was only stressed out from work and didn't mean it. Hell even your best friend said that he didn't.

But that lingering feeling of uncertainty is still there. What if he did mean it? Were you really useless?

You shake your head at those questions, bringing yourself back into reality. You are standing in front of the flat door. Simon's and yours flat.

The key is being crushed by your hand while you're debating on going inside or not.

You let out a sigh, deciding that you should get it over already.

"C'mon it's easy. You go in, get the presents and leave." You tell yourself.

"So easy..."

You unlock the door and step inside. To your suprise there's a delicious smell in the air. Someone is cooking.

You take slow, quiet steps into the bedroom, trying not to get caught. Just as you are halfway to your destination, Simon calls you.

You stop desd in tracks and hear him half running into your direction.

"You're back"

You spin around to meet his smiling figure. He looks good, very good. Damn.

"Yeah...just wanted to grab the rest of the presents"

His smile falters.

"Oh..."

A uncomfortable silence grows betwenn you. None knowing what to say. But then Simon breaks the silence.

"Listen, I want to apologise for what I said. I don't even know why I thought that way. You're not useless at all..."

Your mouth is dry as you listen to him. Your brain is trying to form a sentence but nothing is coming out.

"I understand that you're still mad at me. Hell I would too, but could you pleasd give me a second chance? Please I love you."

Your eyes start to water a bit.

"Simon you really hurt me. I don't know if I can forget about it"

His eyes widen at the sight of tears forming and he steps forward trying to initiate a hug.

"I don't want you to forget it, I just need you to forgive me. I can't live on knowing that I hurt the person which is the most important to me"

Not wanting to feel the upcoming pain, you hug him roughly, clinging to his sweater.

He is taken aback by it for a second but recovers quickly and wraps his arms around you. One is holding your waist and the other combing through your hair.

He gives you a light kiss on your head, breathing in your scent.

"I love you so fucking much darling, so much that it hurts. I- i don't know what was going on with me on that day but seeing you walk out on me brought me back to reality. I knew I couldn't loose you. I'd rather die."

At that statement you look up at him, seeing tears falling down his cheeks. You gently wipe them away and give him a small smile.

"I love you too Simon. I don't think that everything will go back to normal, but I'm willing to give you a second chance. Just don't take it for granted"

You jokingly his biceps at the last part, getting a slight laugh out of him.

"I would never" he says, eyes glistening with hope and happiness.

"Now would you like to have dinner with me? I made Lasagna"

"I would gladly"

At that he takes your right hand in his and interwines your fingers. He takes a last loving look at you, before taking you to the kitchen.

Little did he know that you two found each other again under a mistletoe that was hung up on the roof by him.

It's seems that Christmas really does create peace.

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@skulfan1

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[fieldofdaisiies]

Like I’m Gonna Lose You

ship: Cassian x Reader type: drabble warning(s): none, self-doubt maybe word count: 1,8k words summary: Heyy idk if you're taking fuc requests but if you are can you write a cass x reader fic where they've been together a while but they're slowly drifting apart and only reader can see it and basically makes cass grovel? Idk if that made sense lmao but whatever you make of it in sure it'll be great. 

-all rights reserved -

You sit on a lounger, high on the roof terrace of the House of Wind, the tip of your finger absently tracing over the rim of your class. From your position your have the perfect view over the whole terrace, right to the training pitch. 

Your eyes stay on Cassian, observing him silently. He is training with Azriel, their chatter and the echoes of their laughter reaching you. 

You would love to laugh along, to join in, but you are so wrapped up in your thoughts, you can't. A feeling of unease settles into your gut as you try to remember when it was the last time that you and Cassian laughed so freely. It must have been weeks, maybe months. 

Something is going on between the two of you. You don't know what it is, but it is there and it is a cold feeling. Something that makes a small crack appear in your heart. But this crack threatens to increase with each passing day.  

As you watch them sparr, a pang of distance tugs at your soul. Not only is your heart aching, but also the bridge between your souls. The bond. 

Your gaze stays on Cassian, focusing on how he elegantly glides over the pitch. He still is, without doubt, the most beautiful male in the the world. The one you fell in love with, the one you gave your heart and soul to and then one you would choose over and over again. 

But there are these questions, that fill in your mind, doubts gnawing at you. Are you both growing apart? Is your once unbreakable bond becoming fragile all of sudden? Is this bond not meant forever? Was it never meant forever? In the past weeks Cassian has spent so much time with Az and Rhys, and you would never blame him for it. They are his brothers and he loves them. But you are here as well, and it seems like you are not at all important to him anymore. 

Cassian lands a blow, and you try to cheer him on, to be supportive, but a cool feeling overcomes you when your cheering is met with ignorance. Maybe he hasn't noticed you?

But Azriel has noticed you, so how would Cassian not?

It's as if you are an outsider, observing a something that you are no longer part of. And that makes you incredibly sad. 

You take a sip from your glass, and then place it down on the ground next to you before you lean back on the lounger and close your eyes. There is this bitter taste at the back of your mouth, your throat burning a little as your eyes start to water. What if his distance really means that he no longer wants to be with you?

You are yearning for the closeness you once had, the dreams and hopes you kept talking about. The future you had planned with Cassian. He is your mate, his your love and your life. Since the day the bond snapped you have never imagined to live a day without him. But this might all be coming to an end now…

As you lie there on the lounger, you feel the widening space between your souls, the ache of drifting apart. The joy that once has been brightly glowing between your souls, the passion and the love, it seems like it has vanished. 

Tidal waves of sadness pull you into a sea of doubt and uncertainty. You squeeze your eyes tighter shit, wanting to drown out everything around you. And in the midst of it all, you only hope that you will find a way back to each other's hearts, making the bond stronger again. 

Sadness engulfs you, like a huge cloud that dims the sun and robs you of your happiness. It slings around you, and grips your tightly. 

You bit down on your lower lip, hoping to stop the tears before they can leave your eyes. You don't want to cry. Not yet. Not if maybe there can be a solution found for it all. You don't want to think about all the negative outcomes of this now — it is too soon, maybe things can go into a different direction…Maybe, just maybe. 

A sudden touch on your knee startles you and you jerk up, eyes snapping open.

"No longer enjoying watching us spar?" Cassian asks with a smile on his face, his thumb brushing over your knee. 

Tension of unspoken issues radiate between you two, and although Cassian tries to be his normal, casual self he can feel it as well. 

You sit up, breathe in and move your hand over his. "I think we need to talk, Cassian."

Not Cass. Not my love. Not my mate. No — Cassian. It lands a blow to the general's gut and heart and he slowly dips his chin, nodding. "Yes, I think we do."

…

You gaze is cast downward, avoiding direct eye contact with your mate while you fiddle with your fingers. No one is talking as you on your bed, the door to your shared bedroom closed. The atmosphere is not bad, but somehow so very cold and tense. 

You take a deep breath, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I feel there is a distance between us that has not always been there, like we're drifting apart."

You pull on a piece of skin on the side of your nail, eyes still not meeting his. "You've been spending so much time with other people lately. So much more time with them than with me. It has not always been like that, Cassian. I feel like there is something happening between us and I don't know what it is."

Cassian sighs loudly, feeling a pang of guilt, as he knows exactly that you are right. But there has just been so much to discuss, to organise, in the war camps, concerning the possible threat of Koschei, just everything. His defensive walls rise instinctively, knowing it is not entirely his fault that you have been spending so little time together lately. "I just had to do many things, take care of many things and organise them. It's not like I don't want to be with you."

"But that's the thing," you say, your voice tinged with frustration. "I thought we were a team, like you could include me in those things. I am your mate, your wife, your partner in everything. Lately, it doesn't feel like this at all anymore. It feels like I am going to lose you, Cassian."

The general of the Night Court armies looks away, struggling to find the right words. A shiver runs down his spine and cold spreads out inside of him, settling in his heart. "It was not intentional. I never meant to make you feel that way. I did not want to put unnecessary pressure on you." 

You lift your head and shake it, finally meeting his gaze. "That is bullshit, we are team, Cassian. I t has always been the two of us — the two of us against the world."

"And it still is." Cassian's expression is pained as he keeps his gaze locked with you, reaching over but you pull your hand away.

"I am not sure about that anymore." "Y/N." His voice sounds like he is pleading. "Please, don't do this now." "Do what?" you snap, suddenly feeling like he is accusing you of something. Like you are the bad guy for addressing the issue your relationship is currently facing.

"Making this difficult." "I am not making anything difficult, Cassian." You shake your head vehemently. "I don't want us to drift further apart. We used to be so close, but now it feels like we're just two strangers living under the same roof. I want you as my mate, fully and completely, or not at all."

Cassian swallows thickly. The realisation of what you said hits him like a slap. He knows he has messed up with no longer including you. But he really just wanted to spare you all the problems and issues he is currently facing in Illyria. "You're right," he finally admits, his voice softer now, tinged with remorse. "I've been occupied a lot, did not include you in my things and decisions, and I'm sorry. I don't want us to drift apart either. I am sorry, my love."

Tears well in your eyes as you look at him, and draw in a deep inhale. My love. 

"I will include you from now on, I will tell you things again. I just did not want to bother you with it all."

"Cassian, I am your mate. You don't bother me with these things." 

He lowers his head, chin nearly meeting his chest, his shoulders lifting in sad shrug. "I know. But I overheard you talking to Feyre, saying you are worried about everything that is to come. I did not want to put my worries on your plate as well…" 

This time it is you who reaches over, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand. 

"You should have talked to me."

"I know." He huffs and lifts his head to look into your eyes. "I promise that from now on, I'll make more time for us and that I will share everything with you. You're the most important person in my life and I don't want to lose you. And I want you to be included in everything. You have to know that."

And you technically do, it has just changed in the past weeks. You nod slowly, but Cassian is not convinced. He flips his hand over and squeezes yours. "Please, Y/N. Please, forgive me and tell me that we can soon return to how close we were."

Some of the clouds and storm of your relationship clears and smile a little. "Yes, Cassian. We need to work on it…so that our relationship gets better again, but we will get there."

His arms slings around your shoulder and he pulls you to him, kissing the top of your head. "Yes, we will. Please, never forget how much I love you."

You can confront the issue together, the problems that caused the issues for the relationship, you just have to talk, just communicate and it will get better again. You love your mate so much, you love this bond so much, it will get better again, you know it. 

You relish in his scent, his warmth, the hard press of his chest against the side of your body as you lean into him, your eyes closing. It feels so familiar, so good, and you have been longing for his touch and this closeness for so long. It has felt like torture, but hopefully you are on a good way now to heal your relationship.

"I love you too, Cass."

~~~~~~~ tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan @burningsnowleopard @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop