#I NEED TO SING IT IS NO LONGER A FUCKING. OPTION

[berrymeter]

i need to be in a band. how do i do that

[ericshoney]

Deaf, Blind, Mute ~ Sturniolo Triplets

"What's up guys! Today we are going to be doing something you all love, watching us bake badly!" Nick shouted as he introduced the video.

You had agreed to be with the guys today, taking part in their video, yet another deaf, blind and mute baking challenge. You knew it would be chaotic before it began.

"And today we have our lovely friend, Y/n!" Matt continued.

"Hi!" You cheered, waving at the camera.

Nick continued to do a small intro, with many interruptions by Chris, as you and Matt giggled in the back. You then watched as Nick pulled out a small bowl with some paper in it.

"Okay, two of us are going to be deaf, one blind and one mute. Pick out a piece of paper and at the same time we'll show the camera." He instructed.

You all got a piece of paper and on the count of three, showed the camera. Matt was mute, both Chris and Nick were deaf, leaving you blind. You and Matt both shared a look.

"Yes music time!" Nick exclaimed, already grabbing the headphones.

"What are we even baking?" You questioned.

"Cookies!" Chris cheered.

You nodded as Matt tied a bandanna around your eyes, telling you not to move, before he placed one around his mouth. You then heard Chris and Nick shouting.

"Okay Y/n, there's a cookie mix in front of you, grab it and dump it into a big bowl!" Chris shouted in your right ear.

You reached out, grabbing the cookie mix bag, but couldn't feel for a bowl.

"I need a fucking bowl!" You shouted. You heard faint slaps, knowing Matt was trying to gain their attention.

"What! Oh a bowl!" Nick screamed. Why give the loudest two the option to scream you had no idea.

Once the bowl was placed in front of you, you went to pour the cookie mix in the bowl, but struggled to open the packet.

"I can't open it!" You shouted, looking around blind.

Matt was busy trying to pre-heat the oven, so he slapped Chris and Nick, but neither of them paid attention, singing along to the song playing. You sighed and waved the bag around.

"Kid, what are you doing!" Chris shouted, grabbing the bag from you.

"I can't fucking open it!" You replied.

"Oh!" He said with a laugh, reading your lips.

Chris opened the bag for you, letting you empty the mix out into the bowl. You then continue on, Matt coming over to guide you.

Once the mixture was done, you, with some guidance and screaming from Nick, managed to place the cookies on a tray to bake.

"Okay guys once the cookies are baked we'll be right back!" Nick shouted at the camera.

You then removed your blindfold and realised how messy the kitchen was, which didn't make much sense.

"What the fuck happened?" You asked.

"Oh you kept throwing your rubbish at us." Chris said, finally not shouting as he removed the headphones.

"I did? Oh well." You replied.

"Good thing we didn't make anything else." Matt said, making you nod.

Once the cookies had been baked, you went to pull them out of the oven, seeing the uneven shapes. You laughed and placed the tray on the table.

"Okay guys we're back! Look at how the cookies turned out~" Chris sang, zooming in on the cookies with the camera.

"They're very odd." Matt mentioned.

"Hey you do it next time!" You said, making the three laugh.

"Good effort, kid." Chris said, patting your back.

"Well should we try one?" You suggested, grabbing a warm cookie.

Nick, Matt and Chris all grabbed one as you all took a bite. Sharing a look of confusion.

"Why does it taste..." Matt began.

"Wet?"

"Soggy?"

"Gooey but in a bad way?"

You all gave a suggestion to finish his sentence as you all spat out the cookies, realising they were still raw.

"Guess they needed longer." Chris said, making you nod.

"Well that's been today's video. There wasn't any arguing and no injuries, just raw cookies, so I call that a win! We'll see you when we see you on the internet!" Nick did a quick outro for the video, before Matt screamed at the screen.

"Let's get cleaned up and go out for dinner." Matt suggested.

You all agreed, wanting the bad taste of the cookie out your mouth. The main thing, you had fun.

[braxlrose]

can you do a bill smut where he’s fucking the reader over a table and being like rough >.<??

2010!Bill x F!reader

content warnings: rough fucking, swearing, 18+ content, reader being bent over a table, dirty thoughts, teasing, oral (m!receiving), fem!reader, edging mentioned, edging, dirty talk, ass slapping (once), face fucking, etc.

summary: the humanoid tour was getting to the both of you until you just couldn't take it anymore.

a/n: this is 2010 bill and i hope it's okay that I made reader apart of the band. this is during the Humanoid Tour. I also wrote some of the dialog in German just cause I wanted too 🤷🏻‍♀️. I put the translations next to them though!! this isn't proof read btw!

This tour was getting to be so exhausting. You loved playing up on stage, it was thrilling and exciting but there was so much movement and the heavy lights beating down on your skin made you dizzy sometimes. You and Bill barely had any time to yourselves to have some fun.

You and the band were either practicing, sleeping or playing up on stage. And that was getting to you. Your fingers hurt and your core ached even more. Every time you saw Bill move around on stage and sing you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second. The sweat trickling down his forehead and you could see everything in his tight leather body suit.

Every time bill took a breath and you could see his face contort is the most perfect way possible. You had almost screwed up some chords because you got lost staring at him. And he wasn't any help either.

Any time you had a solo, or he got to take a breath and stop singing he'd come up behind you and grip your waist. The crowd went absolutely wild because he was just so sweet. Kissing your cheek and running hands through your hair while you played. What they couldn't see is bill pressing his dick right up against your ass and grinding against you. You could feel the slick building up, making your folds so wet. He was such a tease. He tried to pretend in camera like Tom was the perverted one but bill was sneaky like that. He knew how to make his fans think differently about him, when in reality he'd be pounding your pussy until you could remember every, single, vein.

The hickies he'd leave on your body where nobody could see them. He loved doing that. Sucking harshly against your squishy thighs until you had bruises all over them. Watching you struggle to walk the next morning because he fucked you so good the night before. But oh no, you had to work for it. Bill wouldn't just give you whatever you wanted without a little bit of something for himself. It's not his fault you look so pretty, squirming down on the bed while he edges your gorgeous, little pussy.

What you'd do for just one more night like that. You two hadn't had sex in over a month because you guys were always so exhausted from touring and next had the time. But you were going to make time. You couldn't handle it any longer. You needed him, you need a release, something; anything. It wasn't fair, Tom always had girls up in his room and you weren't getting anything. Your fingers weren't enough anymore.

You weren't going to go another night without him.

[that evening after the concert ended]

You were leaning against the wall of the shower, letting the warm water trickle down your back. You were trying to save your energy for when bill got back. He was down in the lobby getting the rest of your guys' bags. Some of them had gotten lost at the airport and they were finally delivered.

You rubbed a bar of soap up and down your body, waiting for the moment he walked in. You couldn't hear any footsteps yet or the sound of the elevator coming up to your floor, so he was still getting the bags. That meant you had time. Time to get ready, to get sexy. You wanted to smell irresistible and didn't want to give him any option to not want you.

You were just hoping, begging to god that after he saw you, his fatigue would just evaporate. You needed it to. A heat was building inside of you and you needed him. You needed bill and you couldn't go another night without him.

"Ich bin zurück!" (I'm back!) Bill yelled, rubbing his face and walking inside of the hotel room.

You heard the door open and shut quickly and a loud thud hit the floor. Must've been the bags. You washed the soap off of your body and slowly stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry yourself off. You could hear Bill groaning against the bed, obviously tired out from the day, so you tried your best to hurry up.

Bill shuffled out of the bed and knocked on the door. He leaned his forehead up against it waiting for you to say something.

"Was geht?!" (What is it?!) You yelled to him, running a comb through your wet hair.

"Ich muss aufs Klo. Ich muss mein Make-up abwischen..." (I need to use the bathroom. I have to wipe my makeup off...) Bill muttered against the door, taking in a deep breath with his eyes closed.

"Ich bin gleich draußen, gib' mir noch einen Moment!" (I'll be right out, give me a moment!) You said back to him, rubbing lotion on your body and face. You could hear him sigh in annoyance, making you roll your eyes. He's so impatient..

[a few minutes later] (most of the speaking is in English now!!)

You creaked open the door, slowly stepping out to face him. He groaned again and started to stand up.

"Finally, you're out of there, I'm exhau-" you could actually see the second his voice got caught in his throat. You were standing there in front of him in a black lingerie set, staring up at him with a little smile on your face. He just stood there, staring back at you waiting for you to make a move.

You slowly stepped towards him and rubbed your hands on his chest. "You know, it's been a while since we've had a little time to ourselves, Bill. Don't you think we need it?" You asked innocently. Some of his eye makeup was smeared on his face and it made him look so hot. You bit down on your bottom lip, waiting for his reply.

"Ar..are you sure..? I mean..after today, all of the practicing and the-" You leaned up on your tippy toes and started planting little kisses on his neck.

"I'm sure, are you sure..? Because I know exactly what I want, I want you Bill. I need you..." You mumbled against his neck before leaning back down on your feet. You ran your fingers through his sloppy hair and slid them down over his neck. He bent down a little bit, leaning closer towards your lips with a small smirk on his face, "and don't pretend like you haven't been teasing me for weeks. Pressing your dick against me, whispering in my ear on stage..this moment right now is because of you, Bill. So please..take advantage of the situation..?" You begged, whispering against his lips lovingly.

He took a deep breath in slowly and grazed his finger tips along your hips. His eyes were practically staring into your soul at this point but you could see his dick. It was throbbing in his pants. He was hard as a rock, you could just tell he needed some help.

You smiled against his lips and placed a little kiss on them before sinking down to your knees. You cupped your hand on his dick and bit down on your bottom lip, he was so fucking big. You crawled closer to him and starting kissing his dick through his pants, as you toyed with his zipper.

You could feel him getting impatient, if you had looked up at him you could probably see all the veins in his neck ready to burst.

You unzipped his pants, and pulled out his dick. Gasping at the sight of it. You could never get used to his size, he was so big. You wrapped your hands around the base and starting licking the tip of it. His groans were so sexy and hot, he sounded amazing. You licked down his length, taking one of his balls in your mouth while you pumped his dick with one hand, the other hand steadying yourself with his thigh.

"Mmm...mein schmutziges Mädchen." (my dirty girl.) Bill muttered, running his fingers through your hair. You smiled against him, licking back up his length and spitting in your hand to stroke his dick better. You started with small kitten licks against the tip of his dick before taking more of him in your mouth.

You tightened your hand and pumped his dick nice and slow, taking as much of him as you could into your mouth before it hit the back of your throat causing you to gag. You furrowed your brows and mewed out, pulling him out of your mouth and back in. You slid your tongue underneath it and sucked him in.

"God....fuuuuckkk..." He moaned out, the grip of his hand tightening on your hair. He jolted his hips against your face, he didn't care about the gagging sounds, he was getting so close. You steadied yourself with his thighs as he slid his dick in and out of your mouth. You closed your eyes and tried to relax your throat as best you could as he used you. Drool and saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, making you swallow harshly as his cum squirted down your throat.

He pulled out of your mouth and pulled you up your arms. Some of his cum dripped out onto your chin and on your face. You looked so incredibly sexy. He tangled his fingers in your hair and locked his lips with yours. You needed that release now.

You wrapped your legs around his thigh, grinding against him as he picked you up and walked over to the nearest counter. He sat you down on it and moved to kissing your neck.

His hands were gripping and groping at your chest and he had pulled your legs apart. Whines dripped out of your mouth. You had nothing to grind against now.

"Not yet...you'll get your release, don't be so impatient. My dirty little slut..." he mumbled, ripping your lingerie and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You moaned out loudly and your hands found his hair quickly. You breathing got heavier, as he toyed with you. He flicked and bit your nipples until they were sore and raw. He could hear your little cries as he stimulated you. You sounded perfect.

He pulled himself off of your and ripped the rest of your lingerie off. He could see the shocked expression on your face as he smirked.

"I'll buy you a new one, don't worry." He spread your legs even more, and slid one finger against your wet folds. You were dripping for him. So wet and pretty. All of it for him.

He pulled your thighs over his shoulders and began to attack your clit. He sucked so harshly on it and held you in place on the counter. You wanted to grind against his face so badly but he wouldn't let you. He smacked your thighs anytime you tried to move. Tears began to form on your waterline and you got closer to your release.

You pulled tightly on his hair, moaning loudly making him stop. You shouted out no when he pulled back and picked you back up.

"The only time you're going to be cumming, is on my pretty dick baby..you got that?" He flipped you over the the counter and pulled off his pants completely now. Like clock-work, you stuck your ass up at him as your cheek was squished against the table. His soft, slender fingers rubbed and pulled at your ass before pulling them against and kisses your lower lips again.

You tried to find something to grab but you had nothing. You were getting to be so stimulated, and you needed him so badly. You needed all of him, you needed him right no-

"Oh God...! Bill...!" It was like your whole body tightened up as he slid his dick in you. He was so big and filled you up completely. Tears dripped down against the table as he slid in and out of you. Fucking you like never before.

"Bill! Fuck...~ please..." You cried out, the feeling was so good. He smacked your ass hard, making you blush and tear up again.

"Shhhh...you don't want the whole hotel to hear you, now do you?" He whispered against you, holding your hips in place as he fucked you harder. You could feel everything starting to build up inside of you. All of the orgasms you could've had in the past month, but you and Bill were too tired. Everything you could've been feeling. All of the quickies you two could've had if you had just said something.

You squealed out as white, stringy ropes of cum dripped out of his dick inside of you. After that all you could see was white, you came all over him and you breathing was unsteady.

You gasped lightly as he pulled out of you and kissed your back.

"I'll be right back, meine liebe.." he whispered in your ear, leaving you on the table and walking into the bathroom to get something to clean you two up...

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS OMG 🤭🤭 I HAD SM FUN WRITING IT

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @saumspam @5hyslv7 @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz @victryzvv9 @banshailey @nyxwritesshit

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 1

Warnings: HEAVY mentions of blood/gore, magic described as visceral, catholic-centric monotheism demonised, gore themes, Aegon being the epitome of ‘omg i’ll do whatever except tell mum’, Body horror, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD-Esque style AU, Targaryens aren't royalty but they are Noblefolk, some things are purposefully vague :S :S

Chapter Song: Go Tell Aunt Rhody (RE7 soundtrack) - Michael A. Levine, Jordan Reyne

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Word Count: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

Vicious rapping squanders the peace and quiet of a relatively silent part of the swamp. Moonlight splits off, cutting through the canopy of overgrowth that shields a peculiar abode entangled within the trunk of an elder tree. The crickets sing among the toads’ baritone croaks until they cease, abiding by the loud pounding on the wooden door that barely stays on its hinges, splintering from wood rot.

”Please!”

A guttural plea, desperation lingering atop the vowels. No one ever came to the decrepit hut unless they were on the brink, teetering the veil of life, quite literally on death's door. But death hardly answered, in its wake, oftentimes stood you; for those who braved the trek.

He had almost given up, muscles begging him for rest, for a modicum of reprieve from the toil it took just to arrive at the steps of a stranger's hut. The weight, the pain, it was enough to finally buckle his shaky grime covered knees, splinters embedded themselves into the palms of his hands the moment his hands hit the wood beneath him. 

“I need —,” a whimper, is all that managed to escape his throat. His eyes flickered to the body beside him — not body, he wasn’t dead yet — to his brother laying beside him, laboured breaths that sucked through his barred teeth in discomfort. 

Lips curled into a snarl, he brought his fist down on the decking one final time, “open the door you fucking wretch!” 

He nearly cowered when the door yanked open, yellow light spilling out into the dark bog from the hearth that roared inside. No one stood in the frame of the door, no one beckoned him inside the derelict home and despite this, he rose to his feet, scraping his newly acquired trousers. There was little energy left in him, just enough to drag the mauled body of his brother - one that inched closer to the afterlife - over the threshold of the hut.

”Sit.” 

He spun on his feet, nearly tripping over the pile of wood stacked beside the hearth when his eyes landed on you, who had appeared, simply materializing from nothing. It was only mere seconds until he was set on you again, a frantic torment that willed him near you, “Hag, you must help him!” Despite his weary disposition, he demanded help.

A nobleman. You think, taking his appearance in. Both men donned the same white hair, similarly crafted attire that screamed wealth and you are automatically aware of who was inside your abode. The township off the Kings Road comes to your mind, owned by a Lord as it had been for the past century.

”Well?! Must I get on my knees?” He was angry, that much was clear, but he was more afraid above all.

You waved dismissively, though not toward the stranger, the Lordling. The table of apothecary jars and dissected creatures vanish, though they never are truly gone, and you gesture for the man to place his injured companion. He’s confused at first, most people are when they come to you. Magic was no longer what it was, you could feel it wane the harder religion sought to destroy it. He most likely has never seen it this close.

But he silently obeys, with great effort hauling his brother up on the table and like you had before, appeared behind him as silently as the fog that began to seep through the crack beneath the door. He flinched away instantly, you fought back a sly smirk but your focus was on the man with long matted locks. The hair was a brilliant white, the same as his brothers, identical as the Lord of the closest settlement, but it was marred with the crimson syrup of blood.

You bring a finger to his mutilated face, your pointed nails more akin to talons than that of humans, they threaten to crack the white porcelain of his skin. Swiping a long line down, coating the pads of your fingertips in blood and bringing it to your mouth for a taste. Bitter. The able bodied man recoiled at the sight, but you pay him no mind as you examine the injured one.

His eye was gone. That was a shame. You were fond of eyes as payment.

”Can you heal him?” The man beside you asked, voice small, almost childlike and feeble. ”Name your price, make him whole again and I’ll — I’ll give you whatever you want. Fix him.” His anguish raked through your ears and rattled against your mind like razor sharp teeth, your neck instinctively lolling from left to right as if to ward off the discomfort that followed.

”They’ll know.” You answer cryptically, caressing the side of the younger man's face much like a mother would when tucking in a babe for the evening.

“Can. You. Fix. Him?” His patience was wearing thin.

You sigh, turning to face him properly for the first time since he arrived. Violet eyes. Magic touched his very heritage and yet his own kin sought to erase it, the irony was not lost on you. “He will be different.” You say as a warning, a politeness he certainly didn’t deserve yet you gave it anyway.

Anger overcame him, outstretching his hands and coiling his fingers around the scruff of your filthy dress to yank you toward him. You happen to catch the brief glint of silver, but you had caught it, the blade with your hand wrapping around it to stop it from piercing your chest. Not that it would have damaged your heart, you wonder if his intent was to scare or if he simply forgot which side the human heart resided.

The blade cut through your skin, rivers of red beginning to run down your wrist. The pain is welcome.

“Fix him. Or else I’ll drag you to Oldtown where you can burn in the circle you filthy animal.” 

Animal. As if you were no longer good enough to be likened to a person, a human person capable of human things. ‘They fear what they cannot control,’ the voice is recalled into your mind, a vague memory of the past resurfacing as though it meant to reassure you.

Your lips twist into an awry smirk, and the second he blinks you have once again dissolved through his hands like an apparition. Reappearing by his brother's side, sliced hand outstretched to let your own blood drip tantalizingly slow over the unconscious man’s face.

In your other hand is a surprisingly ornate steel flask, an eyesore amongst the natural clutter. Whatever liquid you have delicately poured down the man’s throat is sanguine, syrupy thick like honey. You sense there is something not quite right mere seconds before the man begins to convulse violently, gasping for air that he cannot breathe.

”What have you done?!” Nostrils flared and ire rising, the able bodied one charged toward you like a boar gone rabid. 

You grew tired of his impetulant outbursts, whispering a soft incantation with hurried hand flourishes and his movements ceded. Burnt into the wooden boards around his feet, still smoking with specks of orange embers were runes, etched into a circle. Something felt off, the air reeked of acrid mildew mixed with copper and you knew instantly what triggered the reaction.

Ignoring the binded man’s threats you let the magic sing to you, caress you, consume you while softly speaking in a forgotten and forbidden tongue.

The windows and door fly open, inviting in a malstrom of wind, tempestuous and bludgeoning, the centre it wishes to converge is at the body on the table still choking, still clawing at himself for air. His spirit dwindles at every garbled breath but you sense his will and you could feel his fight, he was a warrior through and through even in the face of imminent mortal peril. Not many of those who seek you, offer the same resoluteness. 

The older brother is driven to shield his face from the vacuum of wind battering him against the unseen magical force which keeps him in place. Fear was evident in his eyes, perhaps even a touch of regret and guilt though you don’t linger too long as you shout a final mantra, holding both your forearms with formidable strength that is unbroken until the last word passes your lips, you break your grasp.

And then suddenly, the gale force of destruction dissipates.

Silence follows. And you are sat beside the young brother, placing a paste across the part of his face which had been torn away viciously. “What attacked him?” It was the first time you had spoken so directly, but it was because you knew the answer, the nobleman before you couldn’t possibly know what lurked through the mangroves and stalked beneath the stillwater.

He doesn’t appear to comprehend the question at first, muttering to himself a litany of false truths to explain what had happened right in front of him. His very own trembling brings him back from his prison of thoughts as his gaze lifts cautiously to meet yours, “a Direwolf.”

“How did you know it was a Direwolf?” You ask instantly, predicting that he would say as much. No matter, you step over to the cabinet that housed jars filled with all sorts of assorted components for potion making or spell casting, the moon light coming through the window casting an eerie shadow on the workspace.

”What else do you call a giant fucking wolf, what does it matter?” He grew restless again.

You dripped a small phial of black liquid into the mortar filled with other ingredients with great haste, eyes curiously peering out the window looking at the moon as you grimly sigh and mix together what’s been obtained. “It matters,” you grit, trying to grind the remainder of the paste, “the difference between a Direwolf and what attacked him is an exceptionally vindictive blood curse.”

He blinked at you, “what?”

You discard the mortar and cross the room swiftly, shelves littered with bones, glowing rocks and a variety of ceremonial looking daggers. Though magic and its very history were being erased by the ‘new god’, you still hoped those within the settlement weren’t entirely sheltered. 

“He will know no master lest it is the moon, he will know no anger stronger than wrath, he will know only pain and isolation.”

The expression that fell across his face told you all that was needed; He understood fully what was at stake, just as you had moments before. Though his resolve hardened and he met your gaze once more, “cure him. Whatever it takes, I do not care!” Both of you knew he was in no position to demand, not when he was still held in place by unseen magic and you had proven many times how easily it was to simply disappear.

And that is what you did, if only briefly, shooting him a coy smile before vanishing and leaving him in ruination for the moment. In the silence, forced to look at his brother made his lip tremble. He hoarsely called out to him, shaky words choking in half sobs to beckon him awake and rip him from unconsciousness to no avail.

”He’s not here,” You softly say, causing him to jump when you reappear and brush past him. “His soul is in limbo, he won’t hear you.” But I can, you think, the energy sings to your soul in a gentle hymn and your blood sings back to it. In your hand a lock of silver hair clasped in your fist, having come from where you disappeared to, though it caused immediate alarm for the man. 

He pointed a finger at your hand and grimaced, his bottom lip still trembling but no longer from hopelessness. Though he doesn’t ask the question out loud, you know what he’s thinking and you were certain he wouldn’t like the answer regardless of how you explained it.

“Whatever it takes,” you gently repeated his words and it was enough to silence him, for far longer than you thought was possible. Though the silence was welcomed, encouraging concentration while you handled the spellcraft with the care and love that had been taught to you. The woman in your memory that provided warmth and affection was not your mother by blood and yet she lived through your very essence as if she were.

She was there with every spell, whispering gently and coaxing a power buried deep within you. She was in the walls of the hut, imbuing you with much needed protection from creatures and men. And she was here, watching you through omniscient delight as you dedicated part of your essence to a stranger and his injured brother.

The serenity only just takes the edge of tension away, as if you weren’t tending to the impossible feat of near resurrection and stitching a man whole together once more. Life was fragile, mortality was inevitable even to those who yearn against it but magic could manipulate it enough even if it took great energy. It wasn’t without drawbacks, though. Transactional in nature, to undo what has been done required blood magic, the type of magic you were versed well in but it almost always came with consequence.

’What is taken, must be given back’ the words of your ‘mother’ echoed superfluously everytime your duty required meddling with the laws of nature. Perhaps that was why many travelers or townsfolk revered you as a hag, if not for the way you dressed or looked or lived, then for your duty as an indiscriminate arbiter of unfairness and misfortune.

Magic was fair, balanced and it obeyed karmic laws, this was why you cradled such energy. Life was not, it was often unfair and that much had been made clear the moment your real mother left you in a swamp to be taken by whatever monsters prowled in search for their next meal.

So you do what needed to be done - if only a little self serving to you personally but - you give back the injured man what had been clawed away and take something from his family locked away in their fortress within the walls of their beloved township. Not without a final twist in the knife for the older brother who demanded your help many hours ago. Appearing beside him like a shade, gripping his wrist abruptly and slicing a line across his palm to draw blood.

He attempted to fight back but he was bound, he could only wince and complain while you squeezed the blood into a medium phial. When you had finished, he snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if to soothe the pain and grimaced at you almost childishly, “you could’ve asked.”

A faint smile tickles the corner of your lips, though it was no matter of if his words were amusing or his mannerism when he calmed down were fascinating, there was still a task at hand. 

The final part of the brutal rite fell appropriately on the witching hour, where the crow sings thrice while the moon is still high. To complete everything, you dropped several dribbles of the brother's blood into the injured’s mouth and finished off your words of sacrilege.

”He will recover,” You announce, finally after what seemed like hours upon hours of the sounds of your transfixed mumblings and careful spell work.

The man hadn’t heard you at first, in fact he had barely registered the runic circle by his feet had disappeared quite some time ago which meant he was no longer bound in place yet he still remained as if he were. But the only thing that broke him from his trance had been the shallow breath followed by his younger brother lurching forward in a confused panic.

No longer was his face torn, eye gouged, the only indication of that was the faint pink scar that remained. His eyes — both, set on you and he surged forward straight toward your neck. Not that you could blame him for being in such a state, though it would be rather humorous to allow him to indulge in his urges and let him throttle you, you step out of his reach like an alluring treat that only served to frustrate him.

The older one flung himself forward, fretting over the younger and the tension immediately dispersed into quaint relief. Though it lasted no longer than a matter of moments, chaos stalked the two like they were messengers from the god of chaos himself, the energy between them repelling from one another like static in a storm. You could merely watch on in light amusement at the bickering duo.

“— I already think so low of you and yet you exceed expectations once more. Bringing me to this devil whisperer's den?!”

”Well I was simply not going to bring you home marked and dying!”

“If you must lie that you care for me dear brother, at least have the conviction to not pretend you had my interests at heart when we both know you wish to save your skin. Now I have to explain to mother why I stench of sin.”

You laughed, quite loudly it had broken the two from grappling one another to look over. The glimpses of lives you often see when people stop by are often times quite enlightening, just as it appeared in the present between two quarrelling brothers. One who thirsts for recognition and appreciation while the other wishes to disappear and fade to obscurity.

“Do we amuse you, hag?” The younger ones eyes set on you, his grimace was apparent as he did little to hide his contempt.

“Quite.” You hum, barefoot toes curling into the splintered wood while thinking aimlessly. No words followed, not when your gaze cast on the elder who had gone a shade lighter in his face, his limbs beginning to quake and tremble. Cracked lips curling into a smile as you watch him collapse to the floor, writhing in what one could assume was unrelenting pain, the type of pain that embedded itself into a person.

“Aegon — Brother!” The younger falls to his brothers side and you watch curiously, how interesting the dynamic was between the brothers. Their resentment ran deep yet there was still a matter of love beneath it, a bond that weaved itself between them despite such obtuse differences.

The younger was furious, shooting his deadly gaze at you with nostrils flared and he lunged at you, this time for mere entertainment, you let his hands wrap around your neck and press you hard against the cabinet. “You fucking monster! What have you done to me! To him?!” He spat, rightfully so, you thought that someone as pious as him would befall such a fate, though from the little information you’ve gathered on the two, Aegon — as you now know him — did not share such piety.

A weary smirk pulled at the corner of your lips, choking out, “I am no monster, little lordling though it pleases me so, to bestow a mark on your family who seeks to reject their very own heritage.” 

The screams and pleas of Aegon in the background fuelled this one’s anger, “we’ll have you burnt for that —“ His hands tighten their grip, leaving you to his mercy for now in his hands like a ragdoll force to move at his whim, jerking you forward and then slamming you back into the cabinet. Glass shattered from the impact around the both of you but your focus remained on him, the only thing to do in the instance was laugh and so you did.

“Quite the ferocious brute you are — you’d have made a fine servant to the moon, though I cannot say the same about your brother.” His hands squeezed down on your windpipe with malicious intent but you remain unperturbed despite the immense pressure building within your head. Like a bubble about to burst.

The elders' whimpers of pain droned on in the background, mixing into the symphony of nature that carried on throughout the marsh. You had a little too much fun toying with people, if they were to treat you a certain way, who were you to not at least get amusement from it? 

You laughed, bringing a fist full of powder up and flicking it in his face before disappearing through his fingertips like grains of sand. The powder served distraction enough, staggering him back and you silently thank your motherly figure for always ensuring you carried turmeric. Even if it was to ward off bad spirits only.

When you reappeared, your lips barely skimming the shell of Aegon’s ear as you whisper a soft incantation, it felt lewd and profane but at once his pain ceased. The wrinkling in his forehead and face softened while beads of sweat trickled downward, threatening to sully his eyesight by falling into it.

In your hand was the phial of blood you had taken from Aegon, the other held the scruff of his neck. His brother only just recovered from having powder flung in his face, the searing and burning had barely stopped when his eyes settled on you, hovering over Aegon like an enchantress with ill intent.

You crushed the phial in your hands, glass cutting the insides of your palm mixing two bloods together, placing your bloodied hand to Aegon’s sweaty forehead and began muttering swift words. You turned to the younger one, haggard and crazed with a look in your eye that seemed to elicit fear in both of them, raising a clawed hand up you pointing directly at him.

“I have done what is asked of me, to unmark and unburden you. And the cost has been paid. He —“ you look down at Aegon’s fearful eyes, and something in your mind whispers to you to show mercy, it is not your voice, rather hers the one who taught you the ways of magic, “he may now be a servant of the moon but he is bound to me.  Every lunar cycle when the moon is at its fullest he must come to me lest he be made an example from the zealot’s who poison your minds with promises of false salvation and piety.” You were still rather on the theatrical side, not truly enforcing a blood bind on him. And yet, it had the desired effect. Fear.

“And if he doesn’t?” The younger asks in mock defiance, serving as a mask to hide the fear so prevalent in his eyes.

“Then when you pray at night you better hope your false god listens.”

——— Taglist ———

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged for the next update! :D

@karlachs-soldier

[pineapple-lover-boy]

I can’t understand how people are angry with the kiss. Yes, it didn’t come from the best of circumstances but that scene was utterly perfect in all aspects of emotion, music, writing, and acting.

I definitely do not like angst but while I was sad with this scene I was also extremely happy. Even though they is a rift in the relationship. Even though Aziraphale has chosen to leave, they still recognized their feelings.

We saw it first on Aziraphale’s look to Crowley when Gabriel and Beelzebub were being lovey dovey, he wanted that and knew he wanted it. Then Crowley has the talk with Nina and Maggie and actually fully recognizes his romantic feelings for Aziraphale!!

He pleads with Aziraphale not to leave him because he sure as Hell isn’t going to Heaven. He’s always wanted it to be them but now knows why. It isn’t because of an apocalypse that he could also reasonably run away from himself. No. He wants it to just be him and Aziraphale (+ Earth if we’re being honest here).

And Aziraphale acknowledges this. He wants it to be them. Us. But in heaven, a place that Crowley would never want to go unless he absolutely needed to. He knows now that Crowley feels strongly towards him, more than he knew before, he welcomes it on one condition. However that condition is too much of an ask for Crowley, who knows the truth.

Crowley tells him the the nightingale is no longer singing. It’s heaven or him and Crowley knows the choice that Aziraphale is making. But he still wants Aziraphale to truly know what that means.

They both plead more but Aziraphale has had enough and turns away. He can’t face his own feelings head on when he knows Crowley can’t come with him.

For Crowley this head turn is the last straw. He has no more options. Aziraphale has chosen. He’s not going to budge. But that turn shows Crowley that Aziraphale is willing to leave him and the long life that they’ve lived together.

In a desperate plea he rushes over and pulls Aziraphale into a kiss. For most of their time on Earth they couldn’t even admit to being friends. In the past few years they’ve slowly been able to admit that. But they were still closed off.

Demons, angels, they didn’t need to show any physical indication that they cared for each other. They just knew.

For Crowley, he was impulsive and always following the newest fashion trends. He moved too fast for an Aziraphale who held on to what he could of the past. He ran a damn antique bookshop where he refused to sell any books for fucks sake.

For Crowley, once he realized his feelings the decision to kiss Aziraphale was an easy one to make. But for Aziraphale it was catastrophic. It was too much all at once.

But he still tried to hold onto Crowley. He tried to savor something so unusual yet so wonderfully full of love. He’s still scared. It’s evident when Crowley pulls away.

He tries to say the first thing that comes to mind but he stops himself. He forgives Crowley for what he did. He forgives Crowley for trying to influence him one last time.

Tired of it all and his terribly dense angel, Crowley leaves.

Aziraphale needs him so bad in this moment. He almost starts crying as he touches his lips. Something so full of love that had to occur at such a terrible time.

He’s stuck on his decision but can’t help but look back to Crowley before leaving for heaven. Even when he didn’t want to admit it, they were always on their side. But their side didn’t exist anymore.

[grumpypixistix]

So good for me

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings- Fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, unprotected p in v sex, virgin!reader, coming inside, oral (f!receiving), use of marijuana, grinding, slight overstimulation

18+ Minors DNI

(A/n: holy shit this took way longer than I thought it would, but I really hope you guys enjoy it, I may or may not have rushed during the end though)

Life was stressful for you as a student in Hawkins High. You were constantly struggling with your grade in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and time was passing by so quickly, there was almost no way you’d be able to pass the semester with at D.

But you weren’t the only one alone.

Your best friend, Eddie, was also struggling with her assignments, which made you feel a little bit better about the situation. He started passing you notes in class, asking for help about the assignments Mrs. O’Donnell stacked onto every kid in the class. One day, he decided to hand you yet another note on your desk.

You open the small folded piece of paper and read the scribbled handwriting on it.

“I can’t understand jack shit and Mrs. O’Donnell refuses to explain anything to me, so… my place to study at 7?”

You turn over to look at Eddie and nod with a smile, immediately making him grin back with a light flush to his cheeks. Your face begins to heat up and you can’t help but look away, biting the inside of your cheek and desperately trying to listen to the teacher.

It was no secret that you had a thing for Eddie since the both of you met. There were many nights where you would stay up, trying to stay quiet as you fucked yourself to the thoughts of Eddie touching you instead. Even though you weren’t experienced with anyone at all, the idea of Eddie potentially being your first made your head spin.

As you waited for the day to end, you went home and packed the things you needed to study with and patiently waited for Eddie to come pick you up. After about 15 minutes or so, you hear the faint sound of tires screeching in front of your house. Before Eddie could even knock on the front door, you open it and smile brightly at him.

“Wow, I didn’t even knock on the door yet. That’s a record” Eddie teases.

You playfully roll your eyes at him and pull his arm.

“Shush. C’mon, let’s get this studying done and over with” You chuckle, walking with him to his van.

“Right, right.”

During the ride back to his trailer, the two of you jam out to the radio and sing along to the chorus, not having a single care in the world. You would do anything just to experience this with him every day.

Once the two of you finally arrived to his trailer, Eddie hopped out of his side first to open your door for you.

“After you, princess” he hummed softly.

You thanked him with the same cheeky grin he gave to you and walked up to the front door, trying to conceal the bright blush on your face. The both of you enter the small, dimly lit trailer and walk into his room. Eddie closes the door behind you and flops down on his bed, blowing a breath from his lips.

You look down at him and notice how his Hellfire shirt is barely showing his trail on his stomach, making your thighs press together. Your heart pounds faster than before and you don’t even realize that you’re still standing and staring at him.

Eddie leans up to look over at you, a brow raised with a lazy smile on his plump lips. “You gonna sit down or just stare at me all night?”

Your face burns up as you smirk at him, sitting down on the corner of his bed. “Well, the second option does sound nice” you flirt jokingly.

“Oh, I’m sure it does, sweetheart. But we came here to study, remember?” He coos back, grabbing his notebook and folder for O’Donnell’s class.

You suppress the urge to groan out loud, instead letting out a huff as you also grab your notes and folder.

Trying to understand Mrs. O’Donnell’s assignments was hard enough, but it was even harder to understand it when all you could think about was the pet names Eddie called you earlier.

“Princess.” “Sweetheart.”

Fuck, you wanted more of it. You needed more of him.

After an hour of trying so hard to figure out how to do the assignment, you completely stopped trying to focus and lost yourself in the endless daydreams.

“Hello? Are you still with me?” Eddie asked, suddenly snapping you from your trance.

At this point, you stopped caring about the stupid assignment and sighed loudly.

“Eddie, can we take a break? I can’t do this for the life of me” you finally said, looking over at him.

Almost as if he was expecting it, Eddie smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah, of course. I don’t want either of us to stress out about this shit… speaking of which.”

He pauses his sentence and reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing a few items from the drawer and closing it. Once he sets the stuff on the bed, you get a better look at what he pulls out.

A baggie of rolled joints and a lighter.

“Maybe we can take a smoke break and come back to the studying later” he suggests.

You nod your head eagerly and he takes a joint from the bag, putting it up to your lips and lighting it for you. You take a puff of the smoke and blow it out in his face, causing him to let out a laugh.

“You’re a little shit, aren’t ya?” Eddie jokes.

“Hmm, maybe” You giggle, taking another hit before handing the joint to him.

After going through two blunts, the both of you are as high as the clouds, completely forgetting about the pile of assignments from earlier. The two of you are a giggling mess, deciding to ask random questions to kill time.

“Alright, alright… what’s something you’ve never told anyone before?” Eddie chuckles, his eyes red and squinted from the weed.

You look up at the ceiling and back at him, tilting your head. “Even you?”

“Even me, darlin’ ” he chimes.

You blow a breath from your lips and contemplate whether or not you should tell him what you’re about to say. But the longer you thought about it, the more you leaned over to the “fuck it” option.

So, you inhaled one last deep breath and sighed, looking at him.

“I like someone” you mumble.

Eddie pauses for a second before giggling. “Who?”

“Just take a guess!” You chirp, giggling with him.

He groans and brushes his curls out of his face. “Okay, okay, uhh… is it Steve?”

Your eyes widened at him. “No! Definitely not.”

“Damnit, hmm… is it Gareth?” Eddie asks cautiously, raising a brow at you.

“Nope! You’re getting warmer, though.”

“Is it someone in Hellfire?”

You nod at him and he leans up against the wall, his brows furrowed as he continues to think.

“…Is it me?” He asks quietly, making eye contact with you.

Your face burns bright red and you nod your head again, making his eyes widen a little.

“Holy shit… I fuckin’ knew it!” Eddie exclaims.

It surprises you at first, your heart beginning to pound harshly against your chest. “Huh-?”

“I always had this feeling that you liked me… I thought it was just wishful thinking because I’ve always liked you too and I never thought you’d get with m-“

He stops his sentence as you lean over to kiss him, making him moan out of surprise. You pull away for a second to look at him, a grin creeping up his lips. He pulls you in for another kiss, but this time it’s more slow and warm. He guides you with his lips and slowly introduces his tongue into your mouth, causing you to slip out a moan. The kiss grows more heated and you have to pull away to catch some air, a string of saliva connecting to the both of you.

You slowly crawl closer to him and he guides you on his lap, his forehead pressed against yours. You lower your hips and feel how hard he is, making the both of you moan in unison. He slowly begins to rock against you, the friction perfectly rubbing against your clit. He leans back in to kiss you, both of you whimpering softly into each other’s mouths.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart” Eddie breathes out, gripping your hips with his hands.

The way he moans breathlessly makes your stomach feel fuzzy and you’re sure your underwear is ruined at this point. Hell, you’re so out of it that you don’t even realize that you’ve just spoken to him.

“E-Eddie, I- I have another thing that- I haven’t told you” you mutter out to him.

He pauses and looks at you with a slightly concerned expression. “What is it?” He asks softly.

You struggle to get the words out, but eventually you’re able to form a coherent sentence. “I’m… still- still a virgin…”

His eyes widen for a second, then slowly smiles at you. “You are?”

You nod at him and whisper, “Yeah…”

Eddie hums and places a gentle kiss to your lips, carefully placing you flat on the bed. He hovers over you, his curls becoming a curtain to hide both of your faces.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll take care of you, wanna make you feel so good” he whispers, peppering kisses on your lips and down your jaw to your neck.

You can’t help but slip out soft moans and tilt your head back as you feel his soft and wet lips on your hot skin, fingers digging into his sheets. You can’t even tell if it’s the affects of the weed or the way he makes you feel, but you’re on cloud nine right now. His fingertips slide under the hem of your shirt and you subconsciously help him slide it off, revealing your bra. Eddie couldn’t resist the urge to admire you, his ringed hands trailing down your torso and landing on the waistband of your pants. He unbuttons them and slides them off your legs, along with your underwear (that he plans to keep later). He leans back down to place kisses on your collarbone and down your belly, reaching over to unhook your bra and throwing it on the floor.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. Such pretty tits” Eddie moans lowly, playing with your nipple in one hand and gently sucking the other in his mouth.

You gasp softly from the warm and wet feeling of his tongue circling around your nipple, your eyes rolling back as you let out a moan. “I- I can’t wait any longer. P-Please, baby” you plead quietly.

“What do you need, love?” He asks, still playing with your breasts in his hands.

“A-Anything, please- please, just touch me. I wanna feel you” you answer breathlessly.

Eddie nods his head at you and starts a trail of wet kisses from your sternum to your base, adjusting himself as he begins to kiss your thighs. You grab one breast in your hand and squeeze it gently, biting down on your lip as you watch him slowly make his way up your inner thighs. He looks up at you with glistening eyes before pressing a kiss to your clit, gently licking and sucking it.

You gasp louder this time, your hips bucking against his face involuntarily. “O-Oh, fuck-“

He pauses to check up on you, worried that you might be uncomfortable. “Are you okay?”

You smile and nod your head, letting out a giggle. “Mhm, it feels nice… keep going.”

Eddie chuckles lowly, swiping his middle finger against your slick and admiring how wet you are. “You like that, princess?”

You quiver and nod dumbly, buzzed from his touch. “Y-Yes, I do.”

He gives a small lick to your clit again while prodding his finger at the entrance of your pussy. “Tell me how much you want it.”

The anticipation makes you so desperate, you practically whine for him. “P-Please! I want it so bad, please baby. I’ll do anything, Eddie, I need you already.”

Eddie grins and slowly inserts his middle finger inside you, causing you to moan and bury your fingers in his locks. “That’s my good girl. You’re doing so good for me, hm? Asking so politely for me to please you” he groans against you, burying his face into your pussy again.

As he pumps his finger in and out of you, you can’t help but crave more of him. Your endless wet dreams of him were finally coming true, and God, was it better than your own fingers. The way he praised you, took care of you, pleased you. You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

“Shit, Eddie- n-need another one- please” you begged, your hips wiggling a little.

Eddie obeys your wish and adds his other finger inside, curling them against the spot you always desperately tried to get to. Your whole stomach starts to knot up and your legs twitch as you start to feel your orgasm creep up.

“Fuck! Oh- f-fuck! E-Eddie, I’m almost there! Don’t stop, don’t st- Ohh!!” You babble, gasping and moaning relentlessly.

He moans against you as he sucks your clit harder, curling his fingers faster and looking up at you. “Go ahead, sweetheart, let go. Be such a good girl and cum for me” he hums, grabbing one of your thighs with his hand and squeezing it.

With just his words alone, you do as he says and release on his fingers, practically shaking through your orgasm. He continues to fuck you through it to drag out your pleasure, causing you to feel overwhelmed and overstimulated.

“E-Eddie-“ you whimper, tapping his shoulder so you could tell him it was enough.

He immediately stops and slowly takes out his soaked and glistening fingers, looking up at you as he sucks them clean. Your stomach flutters as you watch him do so, letting out a quiet moan.

“You taste so fucking good, baby… Did that feel good for you?” Eddie asks, his voice dropping to a softer tone.

You let out a quiet chuckle and nod at him, a smile on your lips. “Eddie, that was better than anything I could do to myself.”

Eddie laughs and smirks as he looks back up at you. “Really?”

“Oh definitely… yet another thing I haven’t told you before… sometimes, I think about you while I touch myself” you mumble, turning red like before.

He stares at you, his jaw almost dropped. “Me? This little ol’ face is what you think about when you touch this pretty pussy?” He asks, pointing at him and at the base of your cunt.

You become bashful and quietly nod your head, making him laugh lowly.

“Aww, are you turning all shy on me now?” He teases, moving up so he can hover over you.

“Oh, shut up” you giggle, lightly smacking his bicep.

Eddie chuckles and leans down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You kiss him deeply and lightly tug on his shirt, moaning softly into his mouth. As if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, he pauses to take off his shirt and resumes back to kissing you hungrily. But the fluttery, warm and beating sensation grows back again between your thighs- and you can’t wait any longer. You’re ready for it- you’re ready for him.

You tug on his belt, indicating that you want him more. He pulls away from the kiss and looks at you, making sure that you actually want him.

When you nod your head and whisper, “It’s okay, sweetheart… I’m ready”, he slowly nods back at you and begins to undo his pants.

You look down as he strips himself, your eyes widening at the large bulge in his boxers. He finally rolls down his boxers and his hardened cock springs free, the tip red and leaking of precum. Your mouth practically waters at the sight and you can feel yourself get wetter and wetter, your thighs pressing together. He pauses, as if he just remembered something. You raise a brow at him and tilt your head.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him.

Eddie shakes his head and looks back at you. “Nothing, it’s just… I don’t have any condoms on me” he mumbles.

You shake your head at him and sit up to meet him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It’s okay if you don’t. My mom… she put me on birth control after she found out I liked you” you mutter, grimacing at the memory of her saying that it was for “safety precautions”. But who knew that it would come in handy later on?

He lets out a chuckle and grins at you. “Jesus, you’re just full of fuckin’ surprises, aren’t ya? How come you never told me all this?”

“Because I was scared that you didn’t feel the same” you chuckle back.

“I’m still surprised you never noticed it. I thought I made it pretty obvious” Eddie teases.

“Like I said, I was scared. Now, are you gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to wait?” You laugh.

He blushes bright red and lets out a small groan. “I see someone’s eager, huh?” He murmurs, kissing you and placing you on your back again.

“Very” you moan lowly, bucking your hips against his and feeling his warm tip swipe over your soaked folds.

The both of you moan at the warm and wet feeling, Eddie taking his cock into his hand and swiping it more. You shudder as he rubs the leaking tip over your clit, trying so desperately to keep your legs open for him. He notices you squirming around and places his hand on your tummy.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll give you what you want” he groans softly into your ear, slowly pushing his tip inside.

The pain of being stretched out by him makes you whimper, gasping and panting quietly. The noises you’re making is difficult for Eddie to not cum right then and there, causing him to moan and kiss your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so wet a-and warm” he stutters in the crook of your neck, panting softly as he pushes another inch inside of you.

You moan loudly as the pain slowly begins to fade away, clawing at his back as you tilt your head back. He carefully pushes more of his cock inside of you until you’re at his base, feeling him fill you up completely. You’ve never felt anything like this before, but you never wanted it to end. Tears fill up in your eyes as he begins to slide out and back in, your arousal complete coating his cock.

You begin to move your hips with his, grinding against his base and feeling his hair brush upon your clit. Hell, he’s practically burying himself up into your guts. He grabs your hips and helps you move them as he continues to fuck you, the both of you turning into a moaning and whining mess.

“F-Feels so- so fucking g-good, love it when you fuck me l-like that” you stutter out, gasping and tugging at his sheets again.

“Fuck sweetheart, keep talking like that and I won’t last much longer” Eddie whines out, picking up his pace as he thrusts into you.

His tip digs into that special spot and you swore you could see stars, letting out a loud moan. He squeezes your hip with one hand and cups your face with the other, sloppily kissing you as he bucks his hips quickly and hard. You moan into each other’s mouths, gasping and whimpering as Eddie starts rubbing your clit.

“Feels good, huh? You like how deep my cock is inside ya, hm? Can feel you squeezing me, you getting close princess?” He pants out, moving his hand from your face to squeeze your breast.

“Yes! Yes, please baby! I wanna cum, I’m s-so fucking close! I wanna feel you cum inside me, E-Eddie!” You cry out, tugging on his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Fuck- fuck! Oh, shit-!” He cries out.

Before Eddie can even stop himself, he’s cumming hard inside you, letting out the hottest noise you’ve ever heard. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t last that long, but neither would you. As you feel his hot cum coating your walls, you cum around him afterwards. His chest raises up and down frantically as he tries to catch his breath, coated with beads of sweat from his forehead and neck. He collapses on top of you, finally being able to breathe normally again.

You can feel his cum seeping out of your pussy, sighing out as you feel him pull out and lay right beside you. You catch your breath as well and look over at him with a dazed smile.

“I love you” you hum to him.

His eyes widen as a wide grin slowly creeps up his face, pulling you in for a tender kiss. “Say it again.”

You giggle and obey his wish. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie sighs contently and kisses you one last time before looking at you again. “I love you too, my darling.”

And that night, you both didn’t bother to finish studying. Why would you? You just had the best night of your life, and nothing could ruin it. So the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, full of your best friend’s cum and love. You can worry about studying tomorrow… that is if Eddie can pay attention to something other than your face and tits.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Just Friends (Part II)

PART I

AN: So this is hella angsty (for me, anyway), I am so sorry. Also, before y'all yell at me, please know there is a third part in the works lol

(Un-beta'd)

“You’re really not going to try to stop me then?” you challenge, your voice wavering a little. Fury slices through him at your words; what was this to you? A game? 

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 2,471 Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x F!Reader Warnings: alcohol, cursing, kissing, semi-public sex, p in v, friends with benefits, angst. AO3

——————

I’m yours, he’d said, his face buried in your neck as you’d come around his fingers.

Yours.

And he is. Wholly. Completely. 

He won't say the word though—can't say it. But he feels it, that much he can admit to himself.

He has no claim over you though, not really. Sure, he can play your body like a well-loved guitar, knows all your sweet spots—the ones that make you sing, that make his name fall from between your lips in breathy moans—but your heart? That, you keep under lock and key, hidden away with the darkest, most broken pieces of you. 

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s the same way.

Or at least he was.

Now, he’s yours.

‘Your’ what, though? Your friend? Your fuck buddy? Neither option seems to fit, especially not when you’re the one saying it. 

“Just friends,” he mutters, scoffing as he lifts another shot to his lips. 

The liquid burns as it slides down his throat, warmth spreading slowly through his chest. He closes his eyes, savoring it, savoring the momentary silence in his head. He’s tired, so tired. Tired of feeling this way, of having you but not having you. He’s not sure how much longer he can do this, ignore his feelings.  They’re overwhelming sometimes, especially when he’s with you (and not even just when he’s inside you, but when he holds your hand, makes you laugh, when you’re pressed against his side on his couch as you watch a movie—).

He sighs, running a hand over his face. When he opens his eyes again, they catch on the bartender’s and he signals to her that he’d like another. She nods, acknowledging his request before turning away to grab the bottle. He studies her absently as she makes her way over, her lips curling in a sultry smile. She’s cute, but not really his type (no one but you is his type these days, it seems). 

“You alone?” she asks when she reaches him, eyeing him appreciatively as she pours him another shot.

He nods in response, muttering a ‘thanks’ as he brings the glass to his lips.

“Wanna change that?”

He wants to laugh, almost does at the cheesy pickup line, but he doesn’t want to embarrass the woman. 

“I’m good,” he says instead, smiling as he nods at her in thanks. 

She pours him another, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “You sure?”

He hums, nodding again as he fingers the rim of the glass. “Positive.”

“Okay,” she shrugs, leaving the bottle on the bar within his reach. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

He doesn’t respond, just watches her back as she walks away. He needs to get out of here, clear his head. Sitting up on the stool, he grabs his wallet. He pulls out some cash and tosses it on the counter beside the bottle. As he moves to stand, he catches her eye again, noting the flash of disappointment in them. Nodding goodbye, he turns to exit the bar.

The air outside is humid, a vast difference from the coolness of the bar. The streets are relatively empty given the hour, only a few people meandering about. He walks slowly, aimlessly, in no particular direction. He just needs to think. He doesn’t know what to do about this, about you. He wants you (God does he want you) but he doubts you feel the same. Maybe you just need more time, time to figure out what he already has—that you belong to each other, with each other.

A car’s horn honks as it passes him, jolting him from his thoughts. He halts, glaring at it as it passes and mentally cursing at whoever is behind the wheel. When they round the next corner, he sighs, defeated (in more ways than one). Running a hand through his hair, he takes in his surroundings and sees….you. There you are, sitting at a table at some restaurant, chin cradled in your palm. 

He hasn’t seen you since the other night at the bar, and it seems like fate that he’d stumble across you like this…that is, until he realizes you’re not alone.

Possessiveness burns in his gut at the sight of you with another man on what is clearly a date (a bad date, if your bored posture and fake smile are any indication). The waiter stops by, effectively distracting your date and you take the opportunity to excuse yourself, heading toward the back where he assumes the restroom is.

Resolved, he walks over to the door and pulls it open, stepping into the room beyond it. He tells the hostess he’s meeting friends who are already seated and she waves him in, telling him to come back if he can’t find them. Instead, he heads straight for where he saw you heading a moment ago, down the back hall and into the women’s restroom.

You’re at the sink when he opens the door, hands braced on the counter as you stare at yourself in the mirror. When you spot him, you spin around to face him, eyes wide with surprise. 

“Santiago,” you breathe, something unreadable in your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, leaning against the wall behind him. “I was walking by, saw you in the window.”

You bite your lip, looking away in what he can only describe as shame. “I’m on a date.”

Something in his chest cracks at your words, the confirmation of his suspicions. “Yeah, seems like it’s going well.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly defensive. “We were actually just about to head back to his place.”

His nostrils flare at the implication, jaw working as he fights to keep his anger at bay. “Yeah? Well, I hope you have a great time.”

You scoff, eyes narrowed as you push off the counter. “Oh, believe me, we will.”

Silence permeates the room as you simply stare at one another, unsure of what to do next.

“You’re really not going to try to stop me then?” you challenge, your voice wavering a little.

Fury slices through him at your words; what was this to you? A game? 

"No,” he growls, stalking over and pinning you against the counter with his body. “I want him to fuck you, cariño. I want him to fuck you so you know I can do it better."

Something that looks a little too much like hurt flashes in your eyes and a part of him—the part that’s still your friend, the part that wants to be more than your friend—instantly regrets his words. But there’s something else there too, something that’s clearly aroused by this, and he wonders just when this had all gotten so fucked up.

The scent and feel of you is overwhelming, especially given where his thoughts have been all evening and he can’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing you, your breath hitching as he covers your mouth with his. You don’t stop him when he licks inside, instead sighing as you wind your fingers into his hair. He grunts when you scratch your nails against his scalp, his hips jerking involuntarily against yours. You break the kiss with a gasp as he grinds his half-hard cock against you, his name falling from your lips in breathy sighs. He drags his lips down your neck, teeth worrying a mark onto your skin, one he can’t help but hope your “date” sees. 

You claw at his shoulders, trying in vain to bring him closer as you grind against him. He smothers his groan in your neck, lifting you onto the counter and pushing himself between your legs as he returns his mouth to yours. He swallows your moans as he shoves his hands beneath your skirt, his fingers trailing up your thighs. When he makes it to your panties, he wastes no time hooking his fingers around the waistband and pulling them off, stuffing them into his back pocket. You moan as he runs a finger through your soaked folds, hips tilting as you chase his touch.

He briefly considers teaching you a lesson—of bringing you to the edge and leaving you unsatisfied, to go back to your “date” with your cunt throbbing and your slick running down your thighs—but when you beg so sweetly for his touch, for his cock, reaching out to fumble with his belt and the button and zipper of his jeans, he realizes he could never deny you anything. 

He’s yours, after all.

You grumble as you struggle with his jeans, the waistband getting stuck on the swell of his ass as you try to push them over his hips. He sniffs a laugh, moving your hands away and pushing the offending material down his legs. You take him in your hand, pressing your forehead against his as you watch his face from beneath your lashes. He groans at your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in the feel of you. Your breaths fan against his lips as your hand moves up and down his shaft, your feet notching at the backs of his thighs to pull him closer.

“Santi, please,” you breathe, his cock still clasped in your fist as his eyes open to meet yours.

He grunts, reclaiming your mouth as he palms your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. As he moves you closer, his cock bumps against your wet slit, ripping another muffled moan from you. You squeeze him in your fist, dragging him through your folds and down to your entrance. He groans, hips involuntarily pushing forward, seeking your warmth. You whine when he stops, just the tip of him inside you. He stays that way for a moment, enjoying your breathless pleas in his ear. 

When he finally pushes into you, it’s quick, hard, punching the breath from your lungs. He snaps his hips into yours repeatedly, his cock hitting you so deep you can probably feel him in your stomach. You cling to him, legs wrapped around his hips as he plunges into you, holding him in place so he can’t leave you (as if he would). You’re close already, the tell-tale flutter of your cunt dragging choked groans from him.

He’s not gonna last, he thinks, not when you feel this good around him, not when you’re so wet he could drown in you (would drown in you, if you’d let him). 

“Fuck. Santi, don’t stop. Please.” 

His pace falters at the desperation in your voice, but he regains it, fucking into you even harder as he whispers encouragement into your ear. You come apart with a choked moan as his thumb circles your clit, cunt spasming around his cock. He tries to keep up the pace, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you through your orgasm. The feel of you around him is just too much though, and before he knows it, he’s spilling himself inside of you with a growl. 

He holds you for a moment as you both come down, your face buried in his neck as you catch your breath. When he moves to slip out of you, you tighten your hold on him, fingers fisting in the back of his shirt as you hold him against you.

“Not yet,” you whisper into his skin, your voice sounding a little shaky as you cling to him.

He nods, wrapping his arms around you as he tucks your head beneath his chin. 

“You okay?” he asks softly, pressing his lips to your forehead.

You whimper in response, shaking your head.

He sighs, running his hands soothingly up and down your back, content to just hold you, to be whatever you need him to be. After a moment, your hold on him eases, fingers untwisting from his shirt as you slowly pull away. When you meet his gaze, there’s a sadness there he hasn’t seen before. He furrows his brow, hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You lean into it, seeking his touch like a flower seeks the sun. He swallows thickly as you melt against his palm, your eyes falling shut in contentment, and for a moment, he dares to hope.

He should say it, he thinks, say what he’s been denying for months, what he feels. 

I love you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue, his lips parting, air filling his lungs as he takes a breath—

A loud knock at the door cuts across the room, abruptly bringing you both back to reality. The words are still there, ready to fall from his lips but there’s panic in your eyes now—panic at being discovered like this, but also panic over something else. He watches you close yourself off, pulling away from him in more ways than one, and another piece of him breaks.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have said the things he said. 

Regret burns in his throat like acid and he can’t believe he almost told you, like somehow it could make up for coming here uninvited, for the things he said that hurt you. 

“I should go,” he rasps, not meeting your eyes as he tucks himself back into his pants.

You’re silent as you slip off the counter, pushing your skirt back down over your thighs as your feet touch the floor. Once he’s finished, he hesitates; he doesn’t want to just leave, not after what just happened, but he also can’t stay. Hell, he can’t even look at you right now.

“‘Night,” he says, throat choking on his words as he makes a beeline for the door.

He practically runs through the restaurant and back out onto the street, afraid you’ll follow him…and also afraid that you won’t. He’s never hated himself more than he does right now. What had he thought was going to happen when he went in there, anyway? Had he really thought that you were going to just suddenly confess that you had feelings for him too? You were on a date with someone else, clearly that’s not the case. Anger surges through him again at the thought of anyone but him putting their hands on you, of kissing you, of fucking you, of making you laugh, seeing you smile (your real smile, not the fake one he’d seen in the window)—

He stops walking, leaning up against the building he was passing as he tries to catch his breath, tries to keep his thoughts from completely spiraling. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, running his hands through his hair.

Not knowing what else to do, he heads home, intent on filling the empty hole inside him with the biggest bottle of whisky he has in his liquor cabinet.

Review (pretty please)?

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[sai-lec]

the recent behaviour in f1 fan spaces is nothing new by the way . this is going to be long winded get into it .

it’s something i’ve talked about on my main a few times before but the internet and especially twitter and tiktok has provided fans of the famous to seek a certain entitlement TO them . social media reduces the gap between idol and idoliser with direct interacts- the fan can speak directly to their selected person, and can at times be gifted with a reply .

this creates a sense of entitlement to a reply . well, they relied to one person so if i make my presence well known enough im sure to get one too . this has created a constant state of social media thinking in the real world . we see it all the time- morality checking, filming strangers in public, filming your family life. essentially forcing other people to submit themselves to your social media presence .

for an example i went to a concert in october 2021 in manchester. i was there having a good time. but there were several instances in which people were trying to achieve viral moments- the group of 15 year old kids behind me brought a tub of salsa (somehow through the security) and started screaming ‘we have salsa! look we have salsa’ between every song until one member of the band took their salsa at which point they cheered . the girl beside me asking me to stop singing and dancing during the songs because i was ruining her video. these people felt entitled to the creators time by demanding their attention like they would have on social media, they felt entitled to instruct me how to enjoy the live performance in a way that would adhere to their online posting standards.

formula 1 is the same . people interrupting drivers casual dining for autographs and photos - as happens to other celebrities . people walking up to drivers with their phones already recording, not acknowledging the driver but holding their phone up and smiling as the driver continues to look straight ahead before gleefully posting ‘i met lando’ . you didn’t meet lando, you inserted yourself into his pathway and took videos of him without his consent .

when i first started getting into the f1 community i remember seeing a video of carlos walking through the airport and being physically trapped by fans, shoving cameras into his face, leaning into him for photos, touching him, cornering him until he had no option but to sign things in order to get out . and i remember thinking girl what the fuck that is abysmal i feel so bad for him before opening the comments and seeing no real acknowledgment of the harassment he was literally enduring in that video . i remember seeing similar ones of charles, max, fernando most of the drivers on the grid actually .

i hate to be that person but social media has seriously rotted out concept of personhood. we no longer view the people we idolise as people but as brands that we believe we are entitled to in a selfish need to show off and get likes on the internet. so long as you can shock, make jealous of, put in awe other people online because YOU are providing them with the content of the person they so desperately crave it doesn’t matter who’s dignity is stolen . it doesn’t matter who’s privacy is invaded . it doesn’t matter what you have to do to get that viral moment . i saw a video of a girl earlier getting a hat from carlos borderline following him into an off limits building before he turned around and gave her his hat and she acted like he did that for her. when in reality we can see her leaning into an off limits building following him, im sure he was nice and gave her the hat because he is nice but following any creator to the door is not a good attitude . its entitlement to them and their time and the expectation that you will receive something in return .

the newest video of george is another extension of that . a social media creator seeing drivers as a tool or an item for their own personal gain . the harassment and invasion can be excused in these instances because hey. it’s george russell he’s a public figure people always take pictures of public figures when it’s really quite a frightening example of how badly social media users have grown to understand humanity decency . you are entitled to NOBODIES image or time . especially in private areas .

i guess this is a long way of saying you have the opportunity right now to check your behaviours . and make sure you are not contributing to the invasive objectification of public figures. and also that you are not forcing people around you in your daily life to submit to your social media ideals by recording people minding their damn business or profiting off others . thank u gn no i’m not proofreading i can’t be fucked

[dragonsandwolvesohmy]

A Lord by the name Jaskier

A collection of stories where Jaskier is in a position of nobility/power. Reverse Warlord AUs, if you will.

hooked by peaktotheocean.

Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, hadn't been expecting to see invading Witchers on his riverbanks. Nor had he anticipated being named king to serve the White Wolf. Unfortunately, those were just the start of his problems.

Long Live the King by stockholm_syndrom.

Geralt placed the crown on his head before kneeling at his side, and the weight of it felt heavy on Jaskier’s brow. Jaskier’s path to becoming king, takes place five years after the fall of Cintra.

My Lord, have mercy on me. By SunnyInTheSun

"Where are we? I'm not sure I visited this country before." Geralt's eyes drift to the castle not very far from the forest they were hiding for a few hours. He feels his breath accelerate but he doesn't have another option: they have to hide there. Cirilla needs to rest and it's not safe to travel further if they will not rest enough. "This is Letthenove. I have a friend there, he will help us." If Jaskier is there and he's lucky enough to not be thrown out after what he did. *  Geralt is traveling with Cirilla, trying to not be captured by the Nilfgaardian soldiers. He can't stop, he can't take a break and he can't think of anything else but take Cirilla to Kaer Morhen and let her be safe... until they find themselves on Letthenove. Geralt knows Cirilla needs to take a break and rest so he goes even if he's not sure if Jaskier wants to meet him after what he did. But what he finds when he knocks on the door is not Jaskier: is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Lord and Viscont of Letthenove. His bard is not the same anymore

Without you, I'm Stronger, I'm no Longer filled with Wonder by Jassy

Another post-mountain fic (such fertile grounds they gave us!) Jaskier's father dies and, having just been summarily told to fuck off by Geralt, Jaskier sees no reason not to take up the title of Count de Lettenhove. It all just kinda gains its own momentum from there.

Discovering Viscount Jaskier and His Lands by merthurlocked.

It begins with the bard leaving all he once knew behind, It starts when he discovers a certain witcher, It nearly ends when the witcher demands he leaves, It finishes when the two idiots find one another again, and learn how to stay. (Or post mountain, Geralt and Ciri are on the run when they discover Viscount Julian de Lettenhove's lands and find them to be a place of safety that neither want to leave.)

King by MaroonDragon

(Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and his Pack by Inexplicifics and by the song King from Florence and the Machine) After what happens on the mountains, Jaskier just wants a moment to lick his wounds. He doesn't want to sing about the White Wolf and his heroics. So he goes to the only place he can go where he's not expected to perform: Lettenhove. Unfortunately, going home means facing his past and his lingering claim to a title he does not want. Frustrated with the state of the world, with his life and what people expect of him as an Omega, Jaskier has had enough. Hell hath no fury like an Omega scorned. If you want something done, you better do it yourself. Jaskier is done singing about other people's heroics and hoping that they'll make the world a better place. Let them sing songs about him for a change. He's not a father. He's not a husband. He's a king.

This is a Warlord Jaskier AU by @jaskiersvalley here on Tumblr I thought should be included here.

Refuge in Lettenhove by Descarada

Geralt and Ciri are on the run from Nilfgaard. After a narrow escape from certain death, they seek refuge in a Lettenhove court. Geralt is shocked to find that the viscount, (and secret leader in the resistance) is none other than the man he scorned on the mountain. But Jaskier is acting as though he’s never met him before in his life. Is this is the chance Geralt needs to set things right?

the viscount & the hound by Kales and sheepishwolfy (this is one of my personal favorites)

How many Julian Pankratz could there be in all the world, let alone in Redania, let alone in Lettenhove? Even if he kicked Geralt out on his ear—and that would be his right, after the mountain, after all this time—even if he refused the witcher, Jaskier would shelter Ciri. Geralt knew it in his heart and his soul and his very bones. Jaskier would keep her safe, and get her to the other wolves, or to Yennefer. With winter swift approaching, and a scared, starving child to care for, a half-dead Geralt of Rivia has no choice but to seek aid from the last person who wants to give it: Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz.

Lettenhove times by Seiramallipop

Lettenhove, Jaskier's home, becomes a safe haven for all persecuted. This is a series of interconnecting small stories about different people ending up at Lettenhove and how they reacted to hospitality and niceness.

Of Witchers, Bards, and Broken Hearts by dhwty_writes

Six months have passed since Geralt and Ciri found each other. Since then, they have been on the run from... well, everyone, basically. Geralt is tired, Ciri is hungry, Roach is dead. And then they stumble across a very particular viscounty named Lettenhove. The problem? Geralt broke the Viscount’s heart on a mountain and Julian ‘Jaskier’ Alfred Pankratz, a bard, a friend, a lover, is slow to forgive.

Solace and Sanctuary by Igneum807 (Be warned this is part of a series, but this fic can be read as stand-alone.)

The people of Lettenhove listen to every song that Jaskier writes. He is their viscount, after all. The songs speak of witchers as heroes, as saviors, and the people believe them. When Eskel stumbles on the town in a desperate state, he discovers an unexpected safe haven in Jaskier's home and sets off a chain of events that quickly spirals into something powerful. Something the poets call destiny. The destiny of a manor and its people. Because after all these years, after all the hatred and the scorn, the witchers of Kaer Morhen have found a place to call home.

[sondrox]

Infernal Tales Ch. 9 - Happier Untitled

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13958950/9/Infernal-Tales

AO3: Infernal Tales - Chapter 9

Synopsis: Something else I wrote on a rant or else I would fucking explode.

Charlie knew it as soon as she opened her eyes that morning.

That day was not going to be her day.

She didn’t know why and she couldn’t just shake the feeling of it, despite she couldn’t wake up in a better way.

Wrapped tightly, arms crossed, next to the best girlfriend in all of creation, just right in the place where she could fulfill her biggest dream yet.

Contrary to her habits of being the first to get up off bed, springing out like a bunny to get ready with her day, Charlie just laid there.

That on its own was nothing strange, sometimes she just stayed in bed a little longer just so she could see Vaggie sleep and so she could be the first thing she saw in the day. More often than not the mere thought of doing that was enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

But that day her eyes stared past her into an empty spot in their room.

She zoned out for who-knows-how-long, only returning to herself when Vaggie roused her.

“Hun, are you alright?”

Charlie coughed a few times as she recomposed herself. “Ye-yeah! Just, you know, finishing booting up!” She ran her fingers through Vaggie’s hair with a smile she had to consciously form up.

“Heh, right. Let’s get started. Last thing we want is for everyone else to oversleep.”

The couple walked together into their bathroom, as it was their habit. Despite the seemingly spicy scenario. For both of them it couldn’t be further from that.

And for the first time in a long time, it was…rather mundane, not to mention how quiet it was.

Vaggie was the first of them to catch up on this, and the fact Charlie was not singing something or even humming a melody, despite her girl’s mind was an endless stream of artsy ideas. One Vaggie had had to learn to keep up with, and to some degree, she enjoyed it, despite how troublesome and taxing it may, and actually is sometimes.

The second thing Vaggie caught as off was when they had their breakfast together.

Vaggie cooked for the both of them. When your significant other has more money than you can spend, your options to show your love language are narrow, but if Vaggie’s learned anything from Charlie is there is always something that can be done about it.

Their usual breakfast would consist of them discussing their schedules for the day, while Charlie praised Vaggie, telling her she was better than a five-stars, Michelin star, star in the sky, star anything, chef in hell.

But right now, Charlie could only stare at the plate in front of her.

“Did you hear me?”

“What!?” Charlie rose up her head suddenly, almost falling off her chair.

“I said, since extermination is no more for now, a lot of sinners should be willing to give the hotel a try. Surely you must be excited.”

“Oh!” Charlie cleared her throat and tried to muster her best smile, but she could only raise her cheeks. “Yes! We are gonna be drowning in guests any time soon.”

“What?”

“Swimming! I meant swimming. Ha-ha. Nothing we can’t take together.”

For the first time in that day, Charlie strived for something and reached her hand to grab Vaggie’s hand and squeeze. Vaggie reciprocated, stroking her thumb over Charlie’s palm. The hellborn felt she could melt right then and there, but Vaggie then withdrew her hand.

“About that, I’m going out with Angel and Husk. We are going out to get supplies for the new wave of guests. As you said, they are coming here any time soon, last thing we want is…”

Charlie couldn’t really hear anything else afterwards. Next thing she knew Vaggie was leaving, and Charlie was left with Alastor and Niffty at the hotel.

Left was a pretty accurate word, as shorty after the trio left, Alastor left her to fence for herself under the excuse he needed to catch up with a few “old friends”, and Niffty rushed at the speed of a bullet to chase and kill insects, not before telling her that some of the new guests that had arrived after the extermination day had not come for breakfast at the dining room.

Charlie gave herself the task to prepare the rooms for the upcoming new guests, while at the same time checking on those guests.

Normally she would be bouncing with excitement as she went through each room. Preparing and making sure every little detail is perfect. Decoration, notes of encouragement on the most unexpected places or leaving a welcoming gift, which included but was not limited to food, a phone, and a ticket for them to invite anyone they wanted to the hotel. A “bring-a-friend-to-redemption” kind of coupon.

But right now, as Charlie sat on her desk, she struggled to even write the most simple and generic notes she could think of. Simple things that could easily make her day failed to spark the slightest of emotions within her.

A simple “Good job” was too much for her to believe.

But when it came to checking on their current residents, Charlie couldn’t not find them.

She tried knocking on their doors, and when they didn’t answer she entered as carefully as she could, only to find each room raided and left ramshackle.

Everything that could be taken off the ground and carried was gone. The bed sheets, pillows, blankets, bathroom products, most of the furniture. The decoration Charlie had set up was gone as well or broken and torn apart on the ground.

Charlie would have thrown herself to the ground in a corner as inconsolable crying ball of sadness. But that day, all she could think of was she knew this kind of events was a tangible possibility. Many of the sinners she took in would only use the hotel as a means to get free food and shelter, and just leave without a second thought after a while.

Vaggie had warned her of that, Alastor had told her he expected just that. And there was a time where the thought of Angel being a potential perpetrator of just that floated in a corner of her mind.

“Niffty?” She whispered bluntly and in a second she appeared crawling over her. Charlie simply grunted and picked her up by her sides. “Think you can…clean this?”

Nifty said something she couldn’t make of it as she nodded frantically and got to work.

After a while, Vaggie, Angel and Husk returned. Charlie broke it down to her girlfriend with surprising calm, trying to make it sound like no big deal.

“Did they try to hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did they steal anything else?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?” Vaggie grabbed her by her shoulders fondly.

Charlie blinked puzzledly.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I…we will just try harder with our new guests!”

Vaggie’s eyes grimaced as her eyes deviated for a second. “Sorry hun, we didn’t get anyone to join us today.”

Vaggie prepared herself for an awful reaction from Charlie, she would tell them they could try together another day. Maybe even letting her try one of her musical ideas, if that’s what it took to spare her the—

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.”

“Charlie, is okay if you get upset once in a while.” Her brow frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She run her fingers through Charlie’s hair, but she stopped her as gently as she could. “Charlie…”

“Do you mind if we call it a day?”

…

Vaggie, unlike Charlie, was fluent in silence. When the hellborn closed the door and they saw each other face to face, Vaggie understood what she had to do.

Charlie, of course, didn’t. She walked to the kitchen and began to prepare their dinner like it was their habit at the end of a long day of having their work not being reciprocated by no one.

No one, except…

Vaggie took Charlie’s hands and forced her to put down the knife and plates.

Her not questioning her and her adamant reaction just gave Vaggie proof Charlie needed to clear her head.

She walked the two of them into their bed until they two laid down.

Before Charlie could say anything, Vaggie extended her arms and wrapped them around Charlie’s head, bringing it closer to her chest so Vaggie could rest her own head on top of Charlie’s.

“Vags…?”

“Shh…it’s alright.”

Charlie thought Vaggie would try to rationalize how this day had been a good day. Truth be told, they knew that was not Vaggie’s strongest suit, and she would end up laughing to not make Vaggie feel bad, ending up with her being the comforted one with tickles and affirmative words, when Charlie needed to be the comforted one.

They spent the next twenty minutes in that position in silence, only with a calm, yet heavy breathing and rickety pants and gasps filling the room. Vaggie didn’t try to kiss her, look at her face and tell Charlie everything would be okay, or pull away, all she did was wrap her up in her arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.

She just held the person who deserved heaven more than anyone in this pit until her muffed gasp calmed down, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep in between her arms.

Vaggie chuckled to herself at the thought of Charlie insisting tomorrow they should have changed clothes to sleep, but that was a trivial issue for future Vaggie. For the time being she limited herself to put Charlie down on the bed and she laid next to her looking at her until she fell asleep too.

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

Can you guess the quote I sneaked into this chapter? That quote and shit happening in life inspired this.

[harrywavycurly]

I always wonder how Eddie would deal with me, the OCD queen 🤣

If anything is out of place I can’t focus, the door must be locked and relocked 4 times, I avoid odd numbers like the plague and I hate making left turns 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hiii babes!!! Okay so do you also associate right turns with being “even”?? Because I literally despise turning left because I hate odd things and that just feels like an odd thing😂 but anyway I hope you enjoy this and I did it in like conversations but if you want a little blurb let me know!!💖

*Eddie loves you and all your little things(that’s a 1D reference and I don’t regret it) even when you make the trip ten times longer just to avoid left turns*

“Dinner is rea-” “what’s that?” “What’s what baby?” “Why is that magazine on the coffee table?” “Oh it was in the mail today and I didn’t get to read it yet so I put it….what are you doing?” “Magazines don’t go on the coffee table.” “Oh shit sorry baby I didn’t even think about it.” “Magazines go on the bookshelf with all the other ones.” “I know sweetheart.” “We can’t just have them all over the place Eddie.” “I’m sorry baby.” “It’s okay. I fixed it. So what were you saying?” “Dinner is ready.” “Oh good! I’m starving.”

“Baby it’s the one we were assigned we can’t change it.” “How do you know? Can we ask? It’s just a locker…” “You want me to ask for another locker?” “Yes. I’m not putting my stuff in locker eleven. It’s not even.” “Okay I’ll go ask for an even numbered locker.” “Thank you.” “Anything for you baby….but what if they tell me no? What’s the back up plan?” “You hold my stuff for me?” “Okay…I can do that.”

“Uh…it says to take a left…” “A left turn?” “I know. I know princess one moment let’s see if I can find another route.” “Is it going to add time if I don’t make the left turn?” “Eh maybe but more time in the car listening to you sing off key doesn’t sound too bad to me.” “I don’t sing off key…” “Oh okay you can make a right up here and it just adds ten minutes.” “Are you avoiding the question?” “Or you can make a right at the next red light and it’ll add fifteen minutes. So you have options. I know you like options.” “Eddie…” “Yes love of my life?” “Do I really sing off key?”

“You only did it twice.” “Did what twice?” “The door Eddie.” “I did it twice is that not…the right amount?” “No. It’s four times. It’s always been four times.” “Sorry baby I’ll do it two more times.” “No now you have to start over.” “Okay sweetheart I can do it again.” “That’s two…” “Here’s the third time…” “four. Perfect.” “Feel better? We can go lay down now?” “Yes we can go lay down now.” “Good because I need some cuddles.”

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” “I feel like this place is a mess and I can’t focus on anything and I’m overwhelmed.” “How can I help? Can I help or is this something you need to do alone?….oh fuck why are you crying baby?” “You’re just so sweet to me I don’t know what to do about it.” “You don’t need to do anything about it baby. I just want to make sure it’s okay if I help you or if it’ll be more stressful if I do.” “You can help…I can just tell you what to do if that’s okay?” “Sure princess I’ll do whatever you say.” “Will you get mad when I come behind you and check it…” “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you sweetheart.”

[stories-and-chaos]

I really hope that Adam comes back as a Sinner in season two, just so much potential there. That got me thinking about Charlie trying to sing a version of “It Starts with Sorry” with him:

Charlie: It starts with sorry

When you realize what it’s for

One simple sorry

That can lead the way to more

The path to forgiveness

Will need thinking on your part

But sorry is where it’ll start

Adam: Sticking me here with dirtbags like these?

I don’t need your amnesty!

Angel Dust, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri: Please let’s just kill him! We’ve already had enough!

Lucifer: Not an option for this douche.

A, V, H, C: Aw fuck!

Charlie: He needs help to find the truth.

It starts with sorry!

Adam: Sorry?!

Charlie: Examine your past and say

Just one sorry

Adam: I'm not sorry!

Lucifer: This’ll take longer than today…

Charlie and Lucifer: You’ll need to discover

(Adam: I don’t have any fucking sins)

(Charlie and Lucifer: Your vast multitude of sins

But sorry is where it begins

It’ll start with sorry)

(Adam: Not fucking sorry)

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew - Series Teaser

I recently read Napoleonville by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew (go and read everything they’ve written holy SMONKS) and the swampy, everglade setting just fucking embedded itself in my head for this one.

It’s KINDA a DnD AU, if you squint really hard it sits between something like DnD and I guess???

If you wanna be tagged when the full first part comes out let me know! <3 <3 <3

Warnings: HEAVY mention of blood, Magic described as visceral, magic is outlawed, catholic-centric monotheism demonised, Gore themes, language

Aegon ii Targaryen x F!WitchReader

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Vicious rapping squanders the peace and quiet of a relatively silent part of the swamp. Moonlight splits off, cutting through the canopy of overgrowth that shields a peculiar abode entangled within the trunk of an elder tree. The crickets sing among the toads’ baritone croaks until they cease, abiding by the loud pounding on the wooden door that barely stays on its hinges, splintering from wood rot.

”Please!”

A guttural plea, desperation lingering atop the vowels. No one ever came to the decrepit hut unless they were on the brink, teetering the veil of life, quite literally on death's door. But death hardly answered, in its wake, oftentimes stood you; for those who braved the trek.

He had almost given up, muscles begging him for rest, for a modicum of reprieve from the toil it took just to arrive at the steps of a stranger's hut. The weight, the pain, it was enough to finally buckle his shaky grime covered knees, splinters embedded themselves into the palms of his hands the moment his hands hit the wood beneath him.

“I need —,” a whimper, is all that managed to escape his throat. His eyes flickered to the body beside him — not body, he wasn’t dead yet — to his brother laying beside him, laboured breaths that sucked through his barred teeth in discomfort.

Lips curled into a snarl, he brought his fist down on the decking one final time, “open the door you fucking wretch!”

He nearly cowered when the door yanked open, yellow light spilling out into the dark bog from the hearth that roared inside. No one stood in the frame of the door, no one beckoned him inside the derelict home and despite this, he rose to his feet, scraping his newly acquired trousers. There was little energy left in him, just enough to drag the mauled body of his brother - one that inched closer to the afterlife - over the threshold of the hut.

”Sit.”

He spun on his feet, nearly tripping over the pile of wood stacked beside the hearth when his eyes landed on you, who had appeared, simply materializing from nothing. It was only mere seconds until he was set on you again, a frantic torment that willed him near you, “Hag, you must help him!” Despite his weary disposition, he demanded help.

A nobleman. You think, taking his appearance in. Both men donned the same white hair, similarly crafted attire that screamed wealth and you are automatically aware of who was inside your abode. The township off the kings road comes to your mind, owned by a Lord as it had been for the past century.

”Well?! Must I get on my knees?” He was angry, that much was clear, but he was more afraid than anything.

You waved dismissively, though not toward the stranger, the Lord. The table of apothecary jars and dissected creatures vanish, though they never are truly gone, and you gesture for the man to place his injured companion. He’s confused at first, most people are when they come to you. Magic was no longer what it was, you could feel it wane the harder religion sought to destroy it. He most likely has never seen it this close.

But he silently obeys, with great effort hauling his brother up on the table and like you had before, appeared behind him as silently as the fog that began to seep through the crack beneath the door. He flinched away instantly, you fought back a sly smirk but your focus was on the man with long matted locks. The hair was a brilliant white, the same as his brothers, identical as the Lord of the closest settlement, but it was marred with the crimson syrup of blood.

You bring a finger to his mutilated face, your pointed nails more akin to talons than humans, threaten to crack the white porcelain of his skin. Swiping a long line down, coating the pads of your fingertips in blood and bringing it to your mouth for a taste. Bitter. The able bodied man recoiled at the sight, but you pay him no mind as you examine the injured one.

His eye was gone. That can’t be helped.

”Can you heal him?” The man beside you asked, voice small, almost childlike and feeble. ”Name your price, make him whole again and I’ll — I’ll give you whatever you want. Fix him.” His anguish raked through your ears and rattled against your mind like razor sharp teeth, your neck instinctively lolling from left to right as if to ward off the discomfort that followed.

”They’ll know.” You answer cryptically, caressing the side of the younger man's face much like a mother would when tucking in a babe for the evening.

“Can. You. Fix. Him?” His patience was wearing thin.

You sigh, turning to face him properly for the first time since he arrived. Violet eyes. Magic touched his very heritage and yet his own kin sought to erase it, the irony was not lost on you. “He will be different.” You say as a warning, a politeness he certainly didn’t deserve yet you gave it anyway.

Anger overcame him, outstretching his and coiling his fingers around the scruff of your filthy dress to yank you toward him. You happen to catch the brief glint of silver, but you had caught it, the blade with your hand wrapping around it to stop it from piercing your chest. Not that it would have damaged your heart, you wonder if his intent was to scare or if he simply forgot which side the human heart resided.

The blade cut through your skin, rivers of red beginning to run down your wrist. The pain is welcome.

“Fix him. Or else I’ll drag you to Oldtown where you can burn in the circle you filthy animal.”

[robinreflects]

I got an ask for you!

For both Hazbin and Helluva, what episodes of each respective series do you hate/are your least favorites thus far? And what are the main issues you have with them, if any specifically call out to you?

Personally for Hazbin it's Episode 3. It feels the weakest to me structurally speaking compared to most of the other episodes, like Alastor was going and doing this thing he's up to while the B plot does fuck all to actually show the characters bonding together. Charlie and Vaggie's conflict there felt like the most nothing thing ever, too. Zestial deserved way more than Episode 3, I hope he has something to do in Season 2.

I think Carmilla definitely needed to have more time at that point to have the Vaggie parallel as well -- Whatever It Takes was a great song but the parallel felt kinda out of left field to me beyond the premise of the two having people to defend/protect (though I suppose it could be interpreted as foreshadowing for the characters' interaction later on). Until Episode 7 with Out For Love, not only are the two characters actually interacting with each other, but Vaggie's character is a lot stronger here, and her conflict with Charlie was stronger than the one in Episode 3.

For Helluva, GOD it's a 1v1 against S2E4 and S2E5. Besides the stupid dick joke that killed the energy for S2E3 I liked the rest of it enough compared to these ones. It felt like they kinda character assassinated Striker for the sake of, yet again, ANOTHER dick joke despite...Also making him hate sex/dick jokes???

And the camp one was fun but just felt really unproductive to the narrative besides the stuff with Blitz and Barbie. Then again, I thought that should've been its own episode, instead of some forced B plot in an episode that could've easily been more like S1E1, where we get to see the characters actively doing their job and it being actually funny and entertaining. (Murder Family is one of my favorites btw, I've seen it several times when we only had the first few episodes out. I wish the show had a bit more episodes like it.)

Hello! Thanks so much for the ask anon! I started writing this as a short post, but it ended up being way longer than I intended so... the Keep Reading option it is!

I don't particularly hate any episode of either show, but there are a few where I stopped and thought this... isn't that important in an 8 episode season, especially for Hazbin Hotel. Both of those shows are framed like sitcoms; where you have an ensemble cast of characters in the same setting and put them into semi-realistic situations which creates a comedic effect, the problem is sitcoms are usually at least 13 episodes a season long, but most times one season of a sitcom has the standard of making their season a 20-25 episode one (or... at least they did before).

For Hazbin Hotel, the lack of extra episodes shows very much, episodes 3 and 5 are so far the best examples of this in my opinion, they both very much feel like filler episodes. There are some very important establishments in both of those episodes, as you mentioned for episode 3. The setting up for Vaggie and Carmilla as an interactable duo later on in the show, as well as most likely foreshadowing Vaggie's and Charlie's argument later on in the season. Alastor's plot serves as a "subtle" hint for his ties to Heaven, which is (I'd confidently say) revealed in the last episode.

The song between Carmilla and Vaggie felt really forced and it's my least favorite of the bunch, I have a general problem with the songs in the show, which I will talk about later on. Carmilla's part of the song I understood or rather I understood why she was singing her parts; Vaggie's worry came out of nowhere. It can be argued that the entire B plot of Vaggie trying and failing to take on Charlie's role served as build-up, which then culminated into her part of the song, however, it didn't come across that way. Characters trying something that is typically not in their comfort zone and failing due to the circumstances or characters around them is a popular tactic in sitcoms for a funny scene (I mean the reason why s6 ep15 of Brooklyn 99 is funny is because Rosa needs help but is unwilling to ask for it and it gets to an absurd point) so seeing Vaggie trying and failing didn't come across as serious and as of deeply ingrained insecurity of her's as it was intended, which adds to the song feeling forced on her part. The problem isn't the fact that her plot of the episode had that surprise sad moment, but rather the fact that it went way too deep into her insecurities; the start of this was the "never fail you" part, and most that came after.

Episode 5 is way more of a character-focused episode and a filler episode than episode 3. Again, it is an important episode and serves as a very nice segue to episode 6 (my personal favorite), as well as giving us, the viewers (not the fandom, but new viewers who have found this show and decided to watch it, maybe having not even seen the pilot) some context into Alastor's character and status. Which is a good thing, Alastor's backstory is good character-building. And of course, introduces Lucifer to us for the first time, we finally see the King of Hell.

But that's.... just what it is, establishing. I can establish Character A in my own personal story, however, if I don't use or mention said character at all until later on in the story, so much so that people might have even forgotten about them, then I didn't do a really good job. I believe it's safe to say that Carmilla and Lucifer are both iconic characters within the show, so I don't believe people have forgotten about them, but I don't remember Carmilla or her weapons being mentioned once throughout episodes 4-6 when she and her weapons were an essential part in the finale. These points apply to Zestial as well, as you said I really do hope he gets at least somewhat of a bigger role within the show in the second season.

I genuinely hate being a person who says this, as I am a big musical theatre fan, but the songs come out of nowhere; the characters just start singing for no reason whatsoever other than the crew saying "I'd like a song here", most of them are really good (and I won't even go into the fact they got so many Broadway legends on the show), but that doesn't take away from the fact that most of the time there is no reason for a song to be placed in that scene. As well as most of the visuals of the songs looking like a mesh of those cool shots we've all seen in animatics on YouTube.

For Helluva... Fuck that'll be somewhat of a convoluted answer. The entire show kind of got away from what it was presented as in the pilot, so I have very much a hard time picking out which episodes are my least favorite. What I got from the pilot (which is always there to set the overall tone of the show and characters, as well as just test out how successful the show/premise would be) is that it's a modern sitcom-y spin-off (think Brooklyn 99, New Girl, Modern Family, etc; also those sitcoms that have cut to the funny event mentioned scenes) of Hazbin Hotel. So I went into it with that mindset, and the first episode does keep up with the premise we were originally given, which is why I like it so much. As well as Unhappy Campers, I really enjoyed that episode because it felt like it was keeping true to the original premise of the show. The other episodes... it's not that I dislike them, I dislike the abrupt tonal shifts the episodes give us; for example, Murder Family (as I mentioned) gives us that funny quirky sitcom tone the pilot gave us, but then Loo Loo Land is a much more serious episode. It's not a bad thing for a comedy series or a sitcom to have serious moments or serious episodes, it's great in fact. That being said, those scenes/episodes need to be done either later on in the show when we are already connected with the characters (such as Marvin's death in HIMYM) or have to be shown later on in the episode itself (Angel's abuse in episode 4) because the introduction scene (or first scene) introduces us to the tone of the episode and most of the time in sitcoms or comedy series the tone of the episode is supposed to be comedic. The serious scenes hit so hard because of the emotional plot twist we as the viewers are experiencing. In Helluva Boss though, most of the "serious" episodes' intros already have a serious introduction scene, which gives off the effect of drastic episodic tonal shifts.

[stardustprompts]

hbo’s  avenue 5   season 1  sentence starters  change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ;  alcohol mention ,  nsfw ,  language ,  death ,  mental health

‘I only ever sing when I’m drunk ... so ask me again at 5 pm.’

‘hey, set your phasers to fun.’

‘I like to see folk take pride in their work, even if some might call that work ‘menial.’ not me, though, I value your labor.’ 

‘I would love to disperse your irritation.’ 

‘I think it’s the sarcasm alarm.’ 

‘unfortunately, I am still fully conscious.’ 

‘sorry to bother you but it’s my job.’ 

‘that sounds rude, I meant it to be self - deprecating.’ 

‘we all have a cool story to tell our therapists and chiropractors.’ 

‘I wish we were in separate rooms and I hate being alone!’

‘hey, dial it down! I’m the one who gets to be mad!’

‘you don’t patronize me by telling me not to be patronized, okay?’

‘I’m sorry, I’ve immediately forgotten what you just said.’ 

‘well, I’ve just mixed us a cocktail of ‘keep calm and suck my balls’.

‘you’re way less annoying than you were thirty seconds ago.’ 

‘I have had enough of your tall attitude and your high mouth.’ 

‘a problem is just a solution without a solution.’ 

‘this is a designated good news area, no downers, no frowners.’ 

‘we are way beyond rekindling, (name). my heart is not a barbeque!’

‘there may be some more bad news, or, as I’m learning to call it, news.’ 

‘eat the rich!’

‘sleeping on the floor is not as comfy as dogs make it look.’ 

‘you’ve been a wild kind of useless.’ 

‘is this what depression looks like, (name)? because if so, get that stuff away from me.’ 

‘you’re like santa clause with a sack full of shit.’ 

‘I’m not fluent in facial expressions.’ 

‘what’s going on in here? smells tense.’

‘oh, you look haunted.’ 

‘I’d close your mouth because it’s not a joke.’ 

‘I don’t like being unhappy. I just don’t.’ 

‘how do you accidentally kiss someone’s neck?’ 

‘I’m laughing because I’m terrified.’ 

‘if it’s any consolation, I hate me.’ 

‘I say a lot of things that are shit.’ 

‘you should never speak to human beings.’ 

‘don’t get hung up on results. the journey is the destination.’ 

‘you’re just saying that because I told you to, aren’t you?’ 

‘if anyone needs to freak out, this is a safe space. emotionally. physically, we’re all in terrible danger.’

‘i’d always hoped that my last words might be better than ‘fuck me, no.’’

‘all I got from that was ‘you’re going to die out here.’‘

‘I haven’t got it. help me more.’ 

‘why the fuck did I say that?’ 

‘it was true when I said it. like a marriage vow.’ 

‘I feel a bit trapped.’ 

‘I’ll have another shot of water, please.’ 

‘I usually don’t drink because it makes me blunt and opinionated.’ 

‘was your oxygen restricted in your early developmental years?’ 

‘don’t ever, ever show anyone your feelings. just bury them as deep as you can.’

‘you’re not a happy drunk.’ 

‘calm ...  and I cannot express this enough ... the fuck down!’

‘that was wrong! hot, but wrong!’

‘I think everything will be okay if we just stick together.’ 

‘two options. one, murder. and two, and I know I keep looping back to this ... murder.’ 

‘are you hurting?’ 

‘you should prepare to enjoy your last moments of happiness.’ 

‘my thoughts connect instantaneously with my mouth. it’s extremely efficient.’ 

‘I never say sorry. like my hero, gandhi.’ 

‘I thought I was calm, but I am not fucking calm! I don’t wanna die!’ 

‘I have been in such a dark place.’ 

‘you like babies so much you wanna be one?’ 

‘I’ve gone through a period of serious introspection since last night.’ 

‘don’t talk and you’ll last marginally longer.’ 

‘I do know suffering, and you’re suffering.’ 

‘if you have to be passive aggressive, do it only with your eyes.’ 

‘you have to think before you speak. and then, think again.’

‘this part of the nightmare is over.’ 

‘that’s just someone that I’m not scared of.’ 

‘we have great banter.’ 

‘that was really bad. we need to work on your comebacks.’ 

‘you can do this, because quite frankly, you have to.’

 ‘I could hug you, but neither one of us wants that.’ 

‘why are you acting like a little foster child with a secret?’ 

‘it was insanely funny. I was just laughing on the inside.’ 

‘am I about to get whacked?’ 

‘this is an intervention.’ 

‘lets climb down from a place of anger.’ 

‘back off, buddy, or you will feel my wraith. and I am fire. literally fire.’ 

‘I’m as mad as a fucking bear.’ 

‘you can’t do that because you’ll die.’ 

‘I don’t know why you think you’re right and I am wrong.’ 

‘don’t be as stupid as your face.’ 

‘you can’t just save my life. you gotta make it about you.’ 

‘you’re so cute when you’re lying.’ 

‘it’s not not your fault.’ 

‘there’s plenty of blame to go around. we are all going to get a slice.’ 

‘I’m not very good at this, and you know that, but let’s just pretend that I am.’

‘my decision to make a quick decision was itself a bad decision.’ 

‘I have the decision-making powers of a pigeon trapped in a library.’

‘every room you’re in ripples with tension.’

‘why do I keep thinking i’m clever? I’m not. on a good day I’m barely not stupid.’ 

‘I’m not clever but I look as though I should be.’

‘we’re all hiding. I’m hiding. you’re hiding...’ 

‘poor octopus. eight arms, but no hands. fuck you, god.’ 

‘violence is never the solution.’ 

‘I have never been more attracted to you than right now.’ 

‘my patience has snapped like a 200-year-old breadstick!’ 

‘I don’t mean to be impolite but shut your pie-hole.’ 

‘you know that thing you do where you act sarcastic so we all feel sorry for you? it works. we do.’ 

‘I related to you because you always fell short.’ 

‘I feel like I’m dying and my teeth are falling out.’ 

‘you were like a coworker to me.’ 

‘this has been a horrible day.’ 

[direwombat]

[CHECK]: after an unexpectedly violent situation, sender frantically rushes to check if the receiver is okay, cupping their face to look closer. 🤍 + your choice of ship

comin' out with another prompt fill because i needed to finish something. so. here's syb getting into yet another vehicle accident, but this time jakey is there to lend a hand. tw: car accident, brief mention of decapitation (not related to the car accident) rating: T | word count: approx 1.4k

With Eli dead, most of the Militia had fled south into the safety of the Valley. Without their leader, they had no guidance, and after word had spread that Sybille had severed Eli’s head from his body to take back to Jacob as a trophy, the majority didn’t want to press their luck. 

Everyone knew she was a killer. They just never thought that they’d be on the receiving end of her wrath. 

Those who stayed -- those who were the dangerous amount of angry and stupid -- had mostly scattered to the wind. They operate in small groups, ill-equipped and uncoordinated. They lack the supplies, ammunition, and experience that made Eli as successful as he was. The Chosen have done well to smoke out and quash rebellion where it rises. 

For the most part. 

But, like a cancer, the disease of Sin only seems to spread, and so long as it remains, the Project’s work is never done.

Sybille had volunteered to take point in the convoy headed towards Joseph’s compound. The trucks are loaded with an assortment of processed materials from the lumber mill, and a fresh batch of newly trained soldiers to protect the island. 

The drive itself takes longer than anticipated. They’d been forced to detour after finding a rockslide blocking the road, and then again after scouts radioed saying they’d spotted suspicious Militia activity down the alternative route. So here they are, on option three, taking the long, scenic way to cross into the Henbane before heading to Joseph. But, that hiccup aside, once they were on their way, the drive had been relatively quiet. 

Or, at least it was until a deafening BOOM rings out and Sybille’s rear wheels are suddenly lifted off the ground, flipping the truck and sending her rolling across the asphalt. The airbag deploys, but not before she bangs her head against the steering wheel, plunging her vision into darkness. 

She comes to with the odd sense of deja vu. 

Buckled into her seat, she dangles, helplessly, upside down. A high pitched ringing pierces her skull before it slowly fades. Only, rather than hearing the soft, murmuring of Joseph Seed singing Amazing Grace, all she hears is gunfire and shouting. Blood drips down her face, stinging her eyes, and the potent stench of gasoline burns her nose. Yet, it isn’t until the smell of smoke joins it that she snaps out of her daze. 

The truck is on fire. 

She needs to get the fuck out. 

Now. 

Gritting her teeth through the pain erupting all over her body, Sybille pushes against the airbag to deflate it. She tests the door, pulling against the interior handle, but it won’t budge -- not even when she throws her weight against it. Changing tactics, her focus shifts to the cracked window instead. The impact of the crash had weakened the glass, and while it’ll take some effort, she’s fairly certain she can break through. She  slips her right arm free of her jacket and uses the garment to pad her elbow. Clasping her bloody hands together, she bashes against the window with all the strength she can muster. 

After a few blows, it shatters completely. Tiny shards of glass scatter like diamonds over the road. 

She’s fussing with her seatbelt, the locking mechanism cracked and jammed, as a rush of heat envelops her. The air grows heavy and thick with smoke. Her eyes water and she tugs harder at the polyester sash across her chest. “Fuckin’ -- c’mon!” she hisses to herself before giving up in frustration and pulling the knife from her thigh holster. 

Through the din of combat she distantly hears Jacob, who’d been in the truck behind her, calling out for her. 

“I’m here!” she calls back, furiously sawing her way through the belt. “I’m --” she pauses to cough, the smoke burning her lungs and eyes, “I’m okay!” 

The belt across her chest frays and snaps. The one over her lap soon follows. Her stomach lurches as she begins to fall and she hunches her shoulders to protect her neck. Only, instead of landing on the ground, she remains stuck where she is, her ass off the seat, but with her leg pinned between pieces of crushed metal. She gives it a tug, trying to pull it free, but all she does is cry out in pain at the sensation of her leg being crushed. 

Her heart races in her chest, her breath, already shallow, strains even more. 

She’s trapped. 

The truck is on fire, and she’s trapped. 

Panic rises and she calls Jacob’s name. 

Gunfire continues to ring out, and she shrieks for him again when something explodes dangerously close by. The ground shakes. Sweat and blood pours down her brow, dripping onto what used to be the ceiling of the truck. Frantically, she pushes at the metal pinning her leg in place, first with her hands then with her free foot, desperate  to free herself from the burning death-trap. “Jacob!” she cries again, only this time it devolves into a series of coughs that she can’t seem to stop. 

Over the roaring flames and her own panic, she nearly misses it, but there’s a bellowing cry of “Cover me!” followed by sustained gunfire. 

Moments later, there’s the high pitched groan of metal scraping against metal. Suddenly the door she’d been unable to move flies open. The rush of fresh air is a reprieve from the suffocating smoke. Jacob stumbles back as he nearly rips the door off its hinges and he shields his face from the rush of smoke escaping the cab. But he only falters for that single moment, quickly composing himself and rushing in to help free her. 

“‘S m’leg. Stuck,” she hisses, wrapping her arms around his neck, simply grateful that, at the very least, she gets to hold him before the flames carry her to Hell. 

He shushes her with a quiet, “Hey, hey, hey.” He pulls her arms from his neck and pushes her hands to her chest. “I’m gonna get’cha outta here, okay?” He ducks down to investigate where her leg is stuck. His fingers wrap around the metal and he pulls. The shift in pressure forces a grunt from her, one that’s bitten back behind clenched teeth. 

“Shit,” Jacob curses when he can’t get it to budge. He turns to look at her. His eyes are wide, but his brow is furrowed in fierce determination. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, I promise.” 

Sybille coughs a laugh. “I ain’t --” another cough, “--goin’ nowhere.” 

It pains her to let him go, but she trusts him. Trusts that he’ll do as he says. Trusts that he’ll set her free. Just like he did before. 

He returns a short moment later with a crowbar in hand, crawling into the overturned cab and wedging it between the pieces of metal. “It’s gonna hurt like Hell, but when I start prying, you start pulling.” 

“Heard,” she pants, already bracing herself for the pain.

The metal groans as Jacob leverages his weight with the crowbar, pushing the metal apart just enough for her foot to finally slip free. She lands on the ground in an inelegant pile of limbs and what little wind she had in her lungs is pushed out with a low oof. 

Jacob is quick to scoop her into his arms, dragging her free from the burning wreckage. He pulls her to her feet, the two shambling hurriedly back towards the remaining convoy trucks. The doors are flung open, the Chosen using them as makeshift cover while they volley shots further down the road and into the treeline. He half-carries her around and the two collapse to the ground. Jacob’s back leans against the rear bumper and Sybille rests curled up in his lap. 

Her trembling fingers clutch tightly at his field jacket and his arms wrap tightly around her. A large, warm hand comes to cradle the back of her head and he pulls her close to press his lips to the top of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart,” he says, rocking her gently. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay, honey.” He repeats the words over and over, reassuring himself just as much as he is her. 

She nuzzles at the underside of his jaw, and he pulls away just enough to lift his hands to cradle her face. His thumb, rough and calloused swipes over her cheekbone, smearing blood and grime against her skin more than he wipes it away. “You’re okay?” he says again, this time as a question. 

Sybille nods, leaning into his touch. “I’m okay,” she says, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’m okay.”