#I could share bits of what I’ve already written I suppose

[imagoddamnonionmason]

I genuinely have so much planned for a Bell/Woods fic as well as many intertwining shenanigans with the team and other characters from that universe.

But writing is hard.

And art is harder.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 2

Part One

Word count: 2,755

Originally requested by @hazbinlove

---

Your body was still suffering from your injuries when you awoke two days later. While not as intense as before, you could still feel that itching, burning feeling down your entire chest, which was now wrapped in gauze. You were in a soft bed, mind still reeling a little from everything that had happened. If it wasn’t for how sensitive your entire body still felt, you would have written the whole experience off as an ugly nightmare. Yet here you were, somehow still alive. Your first thought was that you must be in the hospital, but the room looked more like a nice apartment room, in line with a hotel suite. Someone must have found you half dead outside after the attack. That odd angelic figure you had seen, it must have been a dream.

That was what you thought as you lay in your uncomfortable position. Not too much longer later, the door opens, and in comes a man that looks vaguely familiar.

He was short, or at least shorter than most men you were accustomed to seeing.

“You’re awake!” he said.

He came into the room, holding a tray filled with breakfast food. You felt your stomach rumble as you saw that is had chocolate covered croissants and a bowl of fruit that looked delicious.

“… who are you?” you asked.

“Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Lucifer,” he said.

“You’re… Lucifer?” you said, shocked.

Instinctively, you try to inch away as this sinks in your mind, but you don’t make it very far, only succeeding in wincing in discomfort. Your body was still fragile from the attack.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked, with a small smile.

A feeling of fear stirred inside your stomach. This had to be a mistake. A trap. There was no way that this was actually the devil. Unless…

“Am I dead?”

“Dead? Oh, no, quite the opposite!” he said, “Somehow, despite everything that happened to you, your soul is still inside its original body. You’re alive.”

“Then why am I with you?” you asked, hoping that the horror you felt wasn’t too apparent in your voice and face.

“Well I couldn’t very well just leave you out there,” he said, “You were basically being tortured like that. You could have lost your mind that way, repeatedly dying and regenerating.”

You just stared at him in stunned silence for a minute. As you stare at him, you feel your memory aligning with the sight in front of you. You hardly remembered the sight you had seen, you had been in so much pain, but you had seen flashes of flame. A white, red, and gold figure, with an unnaturally eerie light. Was it really possible?

“How do you know about my… thing?” you finally ask.

“Well, the unasked for human “sacrifices” usually don’t survive that kind of stabbing. It seems that someone has put a spell on you,” he said, “It’s a seal of protection. No matter what happens to you, you eventually regenerate. Your body will heal any fatal injury, though, it appears that there are some remnants of the attack. Whoever cast it must not have had a lot of experience and didn’t really know what they were doing.”

The memories of your mothers tear filled yet hopeful eyes rushed back into your mind. Had she…?

“Is there a way to reverse it?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “I suppose I would have to look through my grimoires, but it may take some time for me to look.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“You sure you want me to reverse it?” he said, “Most humans would kill to live on earth forever.”

“No. I haven’t even been alive that long, and I already know I never want to experience coming back to life after I die again,” you said.

He puts the tray down next to you on the bed.

“Understandable. I’ve had my own fair share of accidents and long recoveries,” he said, “I know from experience it can be quite unpleasant.”

As if to prove his point, you grimace as you sit up a bit more to eat. Your entire chest feels like it will rip back open if you’re not careful.

“I think you should stay here for a little while,” he said, fingers nearing your face. He stops just short of touching you though as he sees you tense, eventually drawing his hand away and behind his back. An awkward silence permeates the room.

“Anyway, you need time to properly recover after everything that has happened to you,” he said, “Get some proper rest. I’ll leave you to that.”

With that he walks out, closing the door.

---

“I have a little surprise for you.”

You had been bored as you slowly healed. After about a week and a half, you were able to get out of bed, but there wasn’t too much to do. Your “nurse” had provided you with some books to read and puzzles, but other than that, there wasn’t much to do but rest. Though, considering how tired the attack had made you, you supposed you shouldn’t be complaining that much. You were feeling much better now, and the dullness was setting in.

Today though, Lucifer had a certain look in his eyes as he sat on the edge of your bed. He closed his hands together. As he opened them, smoke pealed and a black cat curled out. The pretty little thing which slinked onto the bed and kneaded its paws on the soft fabric. You offer a smile at his attempts to cheer you up. You had to admit that there was a certain charm about him.

“You created that?” you asked.

“Well, technically no,” he said, “I can’t make anything out of nothing. But I may have borrowed him from somewhere else.”

He absently stroked the animal. Squirming a bit, your mind raced. He seemed to be in a decent mood. You had wanted to broach a certain topic in the last day or two, but you weren’t really sure how. You didn’t want to come across as ungrateful and upset him, but he seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps now was the time.

“Um… so, I’m doing a lot better now,” you said.

“You are,” he said.

“And… I was wondering what you thought about me going back,” you said, “I think I’d be ok.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Unable to handle the awkward silence, you start babbling, rushing words out.

“I think I’d be able to handle it,” you said, “I can walk and take care of myself again. Thank you for all of your help, but I don’t want to bother you any longer.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Besides, I think it’s in your best interest that you stay somewhere where your safe.”

“Yes, but I can’t stay in here forever,” you said, “I don’t belong in here.”

While you had to admit he had been an attentive caretaker, you were tired of seeing the same four walls all the time. You needed to get out of here.

“…Perhaps not,” he said finally looking at you, eyes serious, “But I know that if I let you out of this building, some demon or other will get their hands on you and kill you. Or at least attempt to. And trust me, with the kind of sickos that end up down here, you do not want to end up in the wrong hands with an ability like that and no way to defend yourself. That will not be a fun time for you.”

“Er… I don’t mean out there. Can’t you just bring me back to the surface?” you ask.

He is again quiet for a long moment, a look on his face that you can’t quite place. He drums his fingers against his cane for a minute before sighing.

“Do you truly want to go back though?” he said, “You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, look what they did to you!”

He finally looks at you and waves his hand as if to dismiss your unspoken pleas, suddenly animated.

“You think no ones going to try something like this again?” he said, “That if that group finds out you survived, they’re going to be all huncky dory about it? That maybe they’ll just go ‘Oh, wowy, our little sacrifice went wrong. That’s a shame, let’s try a goat this time!’”

“Not all humans are bad,” you protest, “Plenty of us are good. I mean, you like me well enough.”

He scoffs at your words.

“Sure, I suppose some humans won’t try to take advantage of you, but just like down here, if the wrong one finds out about this little… gift of yours, and your best days on earth will rival some of the worst ones down here! Even well meaning humans might want to dissect you to find a futile way to live on earth forever,” he said.

“So what, you just want me to stay here forever?” you said, trying not to sound hysterical, “In fucking hell?”

“I mean, it’s really not so bad down here, as long as you’re with the right people,” he said, “And you couldn’t have better company. Eh?” You swear you hear a horn honk as he winks at you and shakes his elbow.

His attempt at joking optimism falls flat, with the horn sound making it only seem pathetic. The disappointment you feel must be showing on your face as he eventually sighs again and looks at you with condescending pity. It was the patronizing gaze an adult may give a child who is upset that they can’t have ice cream for dinner or an owner would give a pet that wants to jump out of a moving car.

Silly little thing. I’m sorry you’re so angry, but this is for your own good.

“I’m not a child,” you finally say, which only causes him to chuckle softly.

“No, you are not a child. It’s simply that I’m thousands of years old, and you’re what? In your mid-twenties, I would guess. It’s not as if I have more experience with the world or how humans work,” he said.

You glare at him.

“What? Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true,” he said, “People with something special to offer tend to only attract the worst kinds of attention. Trust me, I know.”

“And I’m supposed to expect that your intentions are pure?” you said, before you could think better of it.

Rather than anger though, his face contorts to one of hurt.

“F/N, I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to give you the impression that I want anything from you,” he said, moving closer to you and resting his hand on yours, “I know you’re not thrilled about this situation, but you were left for dead as a sacrifice. I couldn’t have just let you suffer, it wouldn’t have been right. It’s only proper that I take responsibility for what happened to you.”

You just continue to glare at him, but a part of you hears a degree of reason in his words. You feel some guilt tighten in your chest. Perhaps you were being unreasonable. This only makes you angrier though, at him and yourself. You don’t want to concede to him.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, “I know what it means to go one and on forever, and there are things that are much, much worse than death. Trust me.”

He’s moved so close to you now that your noses almost touch.

“Please try to understand. I’m doing this because I truly care for you. I would hate it if something happened to you,” he said.

As he speaks, he traces the edge of your chin with his fingers, and you suppress the natural urge you have to pull away. No aggression is in his eyes, only a certain pity and tenderness. He stares into your eyes like this for a moment before unexpectedly, gently and softly, he presses his lips to yours.

Wait, what?

It’s so unexpected that you freeze up in a sort of shock. You don’t even push him off of you, just hold still as he caresses your mouth with his own. Seeming encouraged that you haven’t pulled away, he moves his hand from your chin to your hair, stroking it and guiding it closer to him. It feels… pleasant. Nice. You hadn’t noticed, but at some point he had brought his other hand to your side and was slowly drawing it up your stomach, up to the side of your breast, not touching anything too intimately. Somehow, this felt more forbidden than if he had touched you more sensually. Slowly, you allow yourself to open your mouth, as if to deepen the kiss, and your fingers reach up to his shirt and rest against his chest.

Until you remember that you’re kissing the literal devil.

When that sinks in, you shudder and wretch your face away from him. He looks surprised, but allows you to do so.

“What are you doing?!” you screech.

“Um…”

“What on earth?” you cry out, horrified, “Why did you do that?!”

He looks a bit baffled for a second, “Did you not like it?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean- I-I… Don’t do that again!” you said, “I didn’t like it.”

“… All right,” he said, “If you say so.”

You feel your face heat up as you break eye contact for a second, and while he moves away a little, as if to respect your space, you catch a bit of a satisfied light in his eyes at your blushing.

–-

Lucifer ignored the pang of guilt in his gut. It was easy to squish, like an ant beneath his outstretched finger. There for just a second, and then crushed with no hope of resurrecting. He’d had plenty of practice ignoring the things he didn’t want to pay attention to, and this was no different.

You were so naive. To anyone with a hint of demonic knowledge, they would know it would be quite easy for him to remove the spell. With a few exceptions, nearly every curse that was cast could be reversed one way or another, and yours was no different. It would be child’s play for him to remove the spell and return you to your home. He was the king of hell after all.

You didn’t need to know that though.

So long he had lived life alone. He and Lilith had parted ways long ago, and he hadn’t really found anyone else. The hellborn, while at times enticing, lived short lives compared to what he had. They weren’t eternal, and they often fell under the influence of the sinners. Too many times a well meaning demon had been led on a less than savory path.

Even without that problem though, connection was so difficult for him. There was a part of him that almost seemed to disassociate whenever he was around others, even those he cared about. Yet here, with you, things were so easy. You had been literally handed to him as a gift, and your helpless ingenue personality had rekindled the softer, more romantic side of him. Perhaps he was being selfish, keeping you like this, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t recompense for whatever frustrations you were feeling.

Though for now you claimed that you didn’t like him, he could see the embarrassed desire in your eyes. Not that he would humiliate you for it. He would draw that desire out from you until it flowed from you as naturally as a river flows downstream. Already you were kissing him back, even if a bit shyly, and at this rate he was sure that he would soon have you acquiescing to more intimate expressions of his affection.

Yes, you were a little peeved now, but you’d get over it. It wasn’t as if you really knew what you wanted anyway. Humans were so difficult. Give them free will and let them do what they think they want, and they still screw it all up. They were so foolish, falling for delusions and falsehoods so easily. He couldn’t let that happen with you.

[storm-angel989]

How would vox and the other fees react to his 11 old being poet? She's young but wise? People a?ways say she's mature for her age aswell.

Hi there,

I’m assuming you mean Vox’s daughter! As a poet myself, this one took me back. 

Take a peek at what I’ve come up with and enjoy!

<3 Mandy

Vox leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he studied his daughter. As usual, her homework had been tucked neatly into a pink manilla folder and left on the coffee table for him to review. Her clothes were chosen and laid out on her dresser, and all the small chores she was responsible for were complete- from her bed being made, to her dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. 

But of course, that was who she was as a being. Neat, tidy, responsible and organized in a way that made sense to her. At first it concerned him, just how mature she was for her age. Worried him that she preferred the company of her writing to a television. But she seemed to have friends at school, and go on playdates. With everything else seemingly fine, he had to accept that she was a writer. Plain and simple. 

As he stood and watched, he wondered when her next writing pause would be. It wouldn’t do to yell to get her attention. He could see from across the room that she had her ear buds in. And he didn’t interrupt her when she was focused so intently. So instead, he waited and watched as the pen she held scribbled across an open composition notebook.

“I don’t want to write on a computer dad, I need to see my mistakes- learn from them so that I can be a better writer,” she had told him when he first offered her a laptop. “Besides, I like pen and paper. There is a feeling when you put ink down, and doing things digitally just doesn’t work for me.” 

He supposed she had a point. And even though he was the overlord of technology, he preferred for her to limit her screen time- lest she end up with glasses like her Uncle Valentino. 

His next offer was to buy her fancier notebooks- leather bound, decorated, whatever she desired. Surly, she would prefer something pretty over plain composition notebooks. But much like the laptop, she politely declined.

“Daddy, I don’t want fancy books to write in. It just puts pressure on me to not make mistakes, and I don’t want that. I want the freedom to scribble and correct and edit without feeling like it has to be right the first time.” 

He watched as her pen lifted from the paper and she looked down. There. There was the pause he was waiting for. He strode across the room and tapped her shoulder gently. 

She looked up at him as she took her earbuds out. 

“Hi Daddy! Perfect timing, I just finished,” she replied excitedly. “Will Auntie Vel and Uncle Val be home tonight? I think I’m ready to share!”

“They’re already,” Vox replied as he kissed the top of her head. “Dinner is almost done. Do you want to read to us before or after dinner?”

“Before,” she replied quickly as she stood up. She gathered her notebook in her arms and carried it quickly out to the dining room. 

Vox followed behind, pleased at her response. The first time he asked her about her writing, she shut down. Eventually, he got her to share that she was embarrassed- self conscious about the things she created. In her words, to keep the mistakes to herself and learn by herself was one thing, but to share them with the world- even just her family- was another. It took quite a bit of  encouragement and love to boost her confidence, and devise a system that worked for her. 

He sat between Valentino and Velvette as she took her place in the center of the living room. They listened intently as she recited her written poem, snapped when she finished and waited for her to open the floor to feedback. Learning to accept criticism was difficult for most adults, but Reader seemed to relish it. The three Vee’s quickly learned that specific praise, questions and thoughtful critiqued resonated more with her than simple positive feedback. 

“I’m going to put my notebook away,” reader said cheerfully once everyone had said their piece. “And then I’ll be out for dinner!”

Vox watched as she practically skipped down the hallway. 

“You know, Vox, she’s quite the wordsmith,” Velvette said as she followed him to the dining room. 

“And mature for her age. Have we broached the topic of publishing?” Valentino asked. 

Vox nodded, “I did. She said she’s not ready yet and she just wants to enjoy her passion.”

“And passion it is,” Valentino mused. “I can respect that. She truly is quite talented.”

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

You Belong to Me

*Not my GIF

This is the first thing I’ve written in years but Shadow and Bone (and particularly Nikolai Lantsov!) is my new hyperfixation and I had the urge to write something, so here we are. Based on the prompt: “Mine.” “Say it again.” which I got from tumblr forever ago.

Summary: Reader is in an established relationship with Nikolai and they get jealous seeing someone else flirting with him so they decide to remind him who he belongs to. Turns out the King finds jealous/possessive reader a turn on, who would have guessed?

Word count: 2K

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. A tiny hint of a plot but really it’s just smut, hand job, jealousy/possessiveness, slight praise kink if you squint, reader can be any gender you like, I’ve left it deliberately vague for your reading pleasure :)

The grand ballroom was so full that you could barely move an inch without bumping into a visiting noble, courtier or ambassador of some sort. Musicians were playing at one end of the room and waiters flitted about with trays of champagne.

You scanned the crowd in an effort to locate the King. Your eyes found him finally near of the centre of the room, surrounded by young ladies and you sighed, because of course he was. You had only left Nikolai’s side for a few minutes, but that was all it took for the vultures to descend. You supposed you couldn’t really blame them, he was gorgeous. Intelligent and charming too. Wherever he went, people were drawn to him like moths to the proverbial flame. Your relationship with the King had started many years before, when he was just a wayward second son with little hope of ever inheriting the throne and though his circumstances had now changed, your love for each other remained stronger than ever. Nikolai could be a bit of a flirt, but you trusted him implicitly. You knew without a doubt that anyone trying to tempt him would fail. He would be going home with you, still that didn’t stop the surge of jealousy that burned uncomfortably in your stomach as you made your way across the room to join the group. Nikolai’s eyes lit up as he saw you approach and he reached for you immediately, wrapping his arm around your waist without even the slightest hint of hesitation. You watched with a perverse sense of satisfaction as obvious disappointment flitted over the faces of his companions and several of the ladies politely excused themselves, quickly losing interest now they knew for certain that the King was taken. The last young lady however, was not so easily deterred. She looked you up and down with barely concealed distaste as Nikolai made the formal introductions and then finally she offered you a saccharine smile - entirely for his benefit you assumed, since it was obvious that it pained her to do so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly. You would be nice if it killed you. It would only cause problems for Nikolai if you went around being rude to his guests, regardless of wether they deserved it or not. The other woman made no response, already turning her attention back to the King as if you hadn’t even spoken. Apparently she didn’t share your concerns about rudeness. Nikolai cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, “Miss Antonova was just telling me about her home in Kerch.” “Oh yes,” Miss Antonova exclaimed, twirling a lock of her dark hair around her finger, “As I was saying, you must come for a visit, your highness. I know my father would be honored to host you.” “What a generous offer,” Nikolai smiled, “perhaps we may take you up on it someday.” The young woman beamed at him, pleased with his response. “We could make it one of the stops on our honeymoon,” you suggested, just to watch her face fall. “Absolutely not. I should not consider our honeymoon a success if we are to be fit for company at any point,” Nikolai grinned impishly and you shook your head fondly, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the implication. You could feel Miss Antonova glaring daggers at you. “Well, perhaps you could make the trip to Kerch on your own instead, moi tsar,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes at him, “I would be happy to volunteer as your personal guide.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I bet you would,” you muttered quietly under your breath, though not quietly enough if Nikolai’s sudden coughing fit was any indicator. Miss Antinova moved closer to him, her face creased in concern, “Goodness, are you alright?” She asked, laying a hand on his arm. You glared at her, touching the King was in no way appropriate. Nikolai gave you a look, shaking his head minutely - a gesture you knew to mean leave it alone. So you bit your tongue even though you wanted to tell her off. “Yes, I’m quite well,” Nikolai assured her once he had recovered, “My apologies.” Despite his reassurance, and the heat of your still disapproving glare, she did not move away or remove her hand. Instead, she moved further into his personal space, close enough to be considered indecent in your opinion. Her delicate hand curled around his clothed bicep. You struggled to fix a polite smile on your face when in your head you were fantasizing about breaking her fingers one by one. “Oh my, you have very strong arms,” she gushed and this time you did roll your eyes. For Saints sake. Nikolai met your gaze over the top of her head and you saw amusement dancing in his eyes. “I work out from time to time,” he told her with a wink, “It’s important to keep my army training up to date.” Miss Antonova giggled girlishly, as if he had said something ridiculously funny, and you decided that was quite enough. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to excuse us,” you stated bluntly, “the King has an urgent, private matter to attend to immediately.” Rather than wait for a response, you turned and firmly grasping Nikolai’s hand, pulled him away and across the crowded room towards the door. Although he could easily have escaped your hold if he had wanted to, Nikolai followed you without complaint, allowing you to lead him out of the ballroom and through the Palace hallways as though he were a boy rather than the King. Entering his chambers you made sure to lock the door behind you and then you stalked towards him, forcing him backwards until his back hit the wall behind him. “Something wrong, my love?” He asked, an amused little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “The audacity of that woman,” you grumbled, “Mooning and flirting, and touching you! As if I wasn’t standing right there.” “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, eyes sparkling with affectionate humor, “I thought she was just being friendly.” “Friendly? She was all over you!” you objected. “Maybe a little bit,” he conceded with a slight tilt of his head, his smirk widening. “But you know that I would never accept her advances, or anyone’s for that matter,” he insisted earnestly as he reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear, “So what does it matter?” “I didn’t like it, Kolya,” you muttered irritably, yanking at the knot of his cravat in an effort to remove it and almost choking him in the process. “Really?” he chuckled, “I hadn’t noticed.” He batted your hands away so he could loosen the offending item himself, pulling it free of his collar and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as he went. You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not funny.” He hummed in agreement as he dipped his head to kiss you, slow and sweet, just a soft brush of his lips over yours, but your were in no mood for romance. You nipped at his bottom lip impatiently, licking hot and demanding into his mouth when he opened up to you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily and sucking on his tongue before you surfaced for air. You kissed an open-mouthed line across his jaw and down his throat, pausing to nip and suck at his pulse point. “Ah. Not above the collar,” he reminded you gently. You huffed, pressing yourself tighter against him and wedging a knee between both of his so that your thigh was pressed against his crotch. He was already hard and knowing it was because of you - not her - tempered your jealousy a little. Nosing down into the collar of his shirt to reach the juncture of his shoulder, you sucked a stinging bruise into his skin. His hips bucked in response. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired your handiwork, a surge of possessiveness rolling through you. “Mine,” you murmured as you laved your tongue over the offending mark. Nikolai groaned low in his throat, rutting against you more insistently. “Say it again,” he gasped. His voice was rough with arousal and you lifted your head to regard him, surprised by his reaction. You felt a heady rush of power as you looked him over. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. His lips were shiny and kiss–swollen and his face was flushed, a deep blush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. You had barely started and he was already wrecked. “You belong to me,” you purred in his ear, nuzzling at his throat as you reached a hand between you to stroke him through his pants. He made an involuntary keening sound, his eyes slipping closed as he pushed himself into your palm. “No one else gets to touch you like this, do they?” He shook his head frantically, hips straining towards you, desperately seeking more friction. You sighed, feigning disappointment. “I can’t hear you,” you chastised, “Use your words Kolya." “No,” he breathed, “only you.” “That’s right,” you agreed, smiling against his skin.

You rewarded him by freeing him from his pants and he moaned as you used the precum that had gathered at the head of his cock to slick your palm. He laid his forehead against yours, opening his eyes so that he could follow the movement of your hand as you jerked him in a firm, fast rhythm until he was panting. When you knew he was near his peak, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “Mine,” you whispered possessively, a seductive smile on your lips. He shuddered, his head dropping to your shoulder and his hands tightening on your waist as he came with a soft cry, thick stands of cum covering your hand and the front of his shirt. He slumped against the wall, boneless in the aftermath of his orgasm. “Well,” he said breathlessly, “that was..,” “Intense? Incredible? Life changing?” you suggested helpfully, and he snorted a laugh. “I was going to say unexpected, but those work too.”

You brought your clean hand up to his throat, running your thumb over the dark bruises you had left just below the line of his collar. "I'm afraid I've made quite a mess," you said, "I'm sorry." And you were, now that the bitter sting of jealousy had faded and you had returned to your senses.

"Don't be. I don't know if you could tell but I rather liked it," Nikolai grinned, "and besides, I've made a mess of you too, so I'd say we're even."

"I suppose that's true," you agreed, bringing your hand up to your mouth. Your tongue snaked out to gently lap the remains of his release from your fingers and he groaned, scrubbing a shaky hand across his face. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accused and you laughed as you leaned in to kiss him. Nikolai pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss but keeping it sweet and unhurried.

"Give me a moment to recover and I'll repay the favour," he promised.

[wayfayrr]

Can I get a Christmas Pudding with a spiked eggnog to eat in?

Ps. love your work also when i checked your event gingerbread and candycane were a bit odd and didnt mention characters.. (as of 23:28 on dec 10)

order up - I hope you're happy with it <3

Yandere first 👀? It's been a minute since I've written for him but he's such a fun link to play with. I'll drop a warning for this though - he's got a few issues regarding divinity and theres a bit of blood/gore in it (although I know some people prefer that)

[Event masterlist]

It’s nice being in a village again since who knows how long. Having another link join us was a nice surprise, even though he’s a bit more awkward than the others. Just a shame his ‘Hyrule’, despite it not being named yet, was so terrible. So empty and dead, full of abandoned villages, at least those that are more than charred remains. 

“If you’re overwhelmed by the crowds we can go back to the inn if you’d prefer.”

His grip on my hand tightened as he seemed to think it over, he’s clearly uncomfortable but there seems to be something stopping him from simply admitting it. I could force the issue and change the question, maybe that could get and answer from him. 

“I was planning to go back anyway, might as well make the most of having a private room for now, right?”

“I suppose that it is getting late now.”

I know that links sacred form is a wolf, but does he really have to lean into the clingy puppy side of it? Not even the rancher is this bad as wolfie, and he’s a literal dog at that point. He isn’t asking to share a room with me though which is nice, even though he’s a link and kind at that, there’s something off-putting about him. 

“Mhm, I’m definitely certain, it’ll be nice to call it early for once too.”

“Right then dear.”

How is he already so comfortable with using pet names for me? He’s known me for less than a week, yet he already sounds like he sees himself as my lifelong partner or something. All of the others have those types of names for me too, but with them? It took a while for them to warm up to me, I wouldn't have stayed with them half as long if they were like this. 

“You remember where your room is right?”

“Actually dear, I wanted to ask if I could come to your room in a moment, I’ve gotten you a gift and I think it’s a good time to give it to you.”

…A gift alone in my room, what is he planning?

“I saw it in town earlier and I was just going get it for you so I could keep it a surprise.”

“You really don’t need to get me anything link.”

“I want to though, it’s the least I could do for you.”

Just a hum. I’m not going to be able to convince him one way or the other, am I? Really though, am I overthinking this, what harm could a gift cause after all? 

I don’t have to wait for too long though, taking the time to sort through my belongings and practice some of the stitches legend and wars taught me to mend my clothing. If I had to guess then I was only waiting for about thirty minutes till there’s a knock on the door. 

“Link you -”

“Why are you covered in blood?”

He’s just smiling. Smiling and holding a package in his hands. 

“I was just getting you a gift, my deity.”

“I-”

There’s no time to even respond as he’s shoving it into my hands as he walks in. I have so many questions but so few answers, why is he so bloody, why is it dripping, why is it warm? He’s looking at me so adoringly though, waiting for me to open it so politely. You know how to untie a knot [name], you can do this, you’ll only make it worse for yourself if you don’t open it. 

“Do you like my sacrifice for you, my deity?”

It’s a freshly butchered heart. Dripping with blood in my hands. He’s killed someone and torn out their heart to give me wrapped up as a gift. And now he’s looking at me for praise, he wants me to praise this. I feel like I’m about to throw up.

“You I… I don’t….”

“He was looking at you and trying to court you earlier and if there’s one thing that I learnt from hylia. It’s that gods adore sacrifices in their name.”

“But… I - I’m not…I’m not a god link.”

He doesn’t believe me, he’s got a sickening smile on his face like he’s done a good thing. Wait - why is he? The feeling of his blood sodden hand stroking my face is even more sickening than the heart still in my hold - why haven't I dropped it - he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. He’s proud. 

…What have I gotten myself into.

[robooby]

@mychlapci i was inspired by one of your posts about Rodimus being something of a spike sleeve for Ultra Magnus and Megatron (but this one focuses on Magnus). I’ve written porn or smut before, but nothing quite like this, so I hope you enjoy it!

Being captain of the Lost Light was good. Rodimus had always enjoyed it, even when bad things happened, no matter how much he complained and bitched. It gave him purpose, something to be, a job to do. It was good. It was all Rodimus could’ve asked for, even if he did have to share the title with Megatron, of all mechs.

But, Primus, this was so much better. Ultra Magnus’ hips jerked up slightly, barely a movement at all, but it still had Rodimus biting his lip to keep a whine in. His valve cycled and clenched around the thick spike inside him, desperately wishing it would move and pound him until he couldn’t see straight.

They were on the Bridge, Ultra Magnus in the captains chair with Rodimus in his lap, valve and spike out and exposed to the rest of the room. He’d been told some time ago, Rodimus couldn’t even remember when, his processor so destroyed with mind-numbing pleasure, that if he was going to slack off on his paperwork and make Ultra Magnus and Megatron do it for them, he’d at least keep them warm while they did.

So began Rodimus’ new career as little more than a spike-sleeve.

Rodimus gripped the arms of the seat so tightly he was a little worried he’d damage it, but then his valve clenched involuntarily, and the thought was gone while pleasure lit up along his nodes. He had to keep his hands on the chair, else he’d be unable to stop himself from rubbing his anterior node raw.

“Stay still,” Ultra Magnus chided him. Rodimus bit back another whine, so desperate for an overload, just one. Anything other than the teasing, almost enough weight of the spike in his valve. At the same time, though, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered more than being pliant and obedient, a perfect, warm place for Ultra Magnus to stick his spike.

Being like this, just a stupid, tight, wet place for Ultra Magnus, and Megatron, for that matter, to keep their spikes, was both a gift for him, and a punishment.

It was good, wonderful, even, to constantly have a spike inside of him, to have to worry about nothing more than a solid overload. Therein lied the punishment, though. They were in this because he was almost of doing data-work, half of a captains entire responsibility. That was why Magnus and Megatron had to take over, and why he was what he was now. Rodimus had to earn his keep, make it up to them, in other ways. One of the main ones being unable to overload until they said he could. Another, smaller one, was that he wasn’t supposed to make noise until he could overload, to keep from distracting the others on the Bridge with how desperately he was for spike.

Rodimus moved a little again, just the barest rock of his hips. It didn’t do anything aside from grin Magnus’ spike into his ceiling node, but Primus, was it good. He melted a little at the friction, weighing the benefits of continuing until he’d caught his overload.

A big hand quickly dropped down to Rodimus’ array, and then two thick fingers were cruelly pinching his neglected anterior node. Rodimus squealed, his jerking at the pleasure-pain lighting up his processor.

“I told you to stay still once, already,” Ultra Magnus scolded him and tugged on the node again, just to get his point across. Rodimus moaned loudly at that, finally giving up at being quiet, his mouth dropping open and his tongue falling out. “Is this too hard for you?”

It was mocking. Oh, Primus, it was mean and rude and not like how Magnus usually was. It made a fresh gush of lubricant leak out around the thick spike spearing his valve open, making everything all the wetter.

He started babbling a little, barely even aware of the quiet, breathy, “please, please, please, please, please”’s coming out of him as oral fluid dripped down his chin. Rodimus needed to overload, he needed it so bad, he’d been sitting there for so long, charge crackling all over his frame, just begging for a release that he wasn’t getting, he needed, he needed, he needed–

A loud, wet, squelching snap cracked through the bridge, not even registering to everyone else on shift, all very used to this situation. Rodimus choked a bit on his own oral fluid, pain climbing up from his array where his poor, sensitive node was just slapped, stimulation just short of enough.

“Stay still,” Magnus ordered, and Rodimus did his best to obey.

They stayed like that for the rest of the shift, Ultra Magnus being productive and efficient while his pretty spike sleeve did his best to stay still and undistracting. Every now and again, he would screw up, and his pretty, puffy node would get pinched or slapped, and Rodimus would try again. He wound up thinking less, getting dumber and dumber the longer he was denied overload.

Eventually, though, Ultra Magnus set aside his last data-pad. Rodimus, too floaty and out of it to notice, simply sat there, thighs quivering. Using the moment of distraction, Ultra Magnus grabbed his red, pretty hips and lifted him up, then quickly dropped down. Rodimus dropped with a squeal, his charge sky-rocketing with the friction. If he’d been a touch more aware of himself, he would’ve fear lighting on fire.

As it was, he didn’t care, and so he lifted himself up as best he could, and bounced on the big, thick, marvellous spike inside him, fast as he could manage. Everytime he dropped down, Magnus would thrust up, and pound into his ceiling node. The length of it lit every node in Rodimus’ valve aflame, and he moaned each time he felt it.

It didn’t take very long until Magnus reached around and rubbed at Rodimus’ puffy node, red and sensitive from all the pinching and slapping. He rubbed at it furiously, causing Rodimus to writhe with pleasure, going from bouncing to instead grind the spikehead as deep as he could, until it was butting up against his gestation tank.

Rodimus was moaning long and loud, barely able to catch a breath before another wave of pleasure forced him to moan again. Then, then, it started cresting, building higher and higher, taking him further and further from the bridge, getting whiter and brighter and all consuming and–

Overload washed over him, his valve squirting out fluid around Magnus’ spike while his own spike spurted up all over himself. He twitched with aftershocks while Magnus kept pounding into him, chasing his own overload. Optical fluid leaked out from the corners of his optics as his valve was roughly used, overstimulation making his spoiler quake. Then, it stopped, heat flooding his valve and gestation tank.

Rodimus flopped against Magnus’ chassis, only partially aware of Magnus pulling out of him and thick transfluid oozing out of him. Magnus gentle picked him up and set him back down on the chair after Magnus slipped out. His valve was slowly leaking a puddle onto the seat as Rodimus noticed Megatron walking on the Bridge, his panels transforming aside and spike pressurising at the sight of him.

[ashisgreedy]

Imelda Reyes x F!MC

“In Her Embrace”

Tags: Smut 18+| F x F | First times | Cunnilingus | Gay Awakening(?) | Aged up 18+

WC: 2,500+

AN: Guess who I have a crush on 🥴

Dear Diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written in you for a while. In the past few weeks, something wonderful happened… and I have been otherwise occupied with this new, incredible thing. I can't stop smiling as I begin to write this. I would like to start from the beginning so I may paint the full picture for myself to recall as I grow older.

My best friend Imelda and I have been growing close lately. After my last break-up, she encouraged me to stay single for a while. I had been dating back to back as you can see in my previous diary entries. But, something about the way she was almost begging me to turn down Andrew Larson’s invitation for dinner made me seriously consider it. I took her advice and decided I would stay single for a bit longer to really help remind myself of who I am.

She was happy when I told her this, telling me she always hated all my boyfriends, that they didn’t deserve me. I smiled at that, remembering a time when she wouldn’t have spoken so freely to me. It used to be low blows and curt comments from her, but now, since we’ve grown as friends and I earned her respect on a broom, I’ve been privy to how she truly feels. 

Two weeks ago, it was girls night. We planned a sleepover in my dorm room over the holiday. All my other roommates were gone for the extended weekend back home and Imelda and I took full advantage of the privacy, making a pillow fort by my bed and reading to one another out of the fantasy book floating around the Slytherin girl’s dorms. The book was something someone brought from back home, a muggle story where the main character was female and went on all these badass adventures. It's now Imelda's favorite.

She braided my hair, a bit too tight I might add, I had to loosen it to stop the headache from forming, and I manicured her nails. She keeps them short for her quidditch matches and I made sure to add a tiny heart to both her thumbnails in black paint.

When it came time for sleeping, we both changed into our pajamas and tucked into my bed for the night. We could hardly stop chatting even long after the lights were out. Imelda was so giggly this night, in a better mood than I had seen her in a while. Her laugh was contagious and I couldn’t help but share it.

We found ourselves tangled up, giggling about nothing and everything late into the night. There was a moment, just one, where I felt a shift in our dynamic. She looked at me, her legs twisted with mine, her hand sliding through my hair, and she just stared into my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. The laughing had died down and I supposed she was growing tired as the hours went on.

“Good night, then…” I finally said, breaking whatever tension had begun to build around us. I pulled up the blanket and snuggled my head into the pillow.

I saw her face go from bright and cheery to dark and stormy in a nanosecond. She huffed a ‘night’ to me and turned away. My forehead creased at the sudden change in her demeanor. Had I done something wrong? I scoured my mind thinking of the entire evening all the way up until this moment.

“Imelda… Is everything alright? We were just laughing moments ago.” I tried, my heart swirling with fear that I had somehow caused a rift to develop between us. I reached out to touch her arm, the one my hands had already been all over this evening to provide her comfort.

"You didn't do anything wrong..." She mumbles. Her voice was wavering and a piece of my heart broke.

I rubbed her arm with more confidence. “You know you can always talk to me about anything. We’re best friends.” I used my most reassuring voice. “I’m here for you.” There was a distinct sniff that came from Imelda so I immediately wrapped her in my arms and held her to my chest. “You can talk to me about anything, Mel. I mean it.”

She didn’t cry as I held her, she fought off the tears as best as she could. I could feel the war inside her body as she held back, trembling and squeezing her eyes shut. She was always so strong and I wanted to allow her the space to feel whatever emotion she was feeling if she was in the mood to express it.

After some time, she calmed and her breath became even. Imelda finally rolled over, looking at me. The light from the window spilled over her features and I gave her a small smile. “What has got you so worked up?” I asked. I was waiting for a spitfire answer but she just stared at me again with those big brown eyes.

 She wrapped her arms around me and I did the same to her. We shared her pillow while I rubbed her back. She adjusted herself and my hand went a bit too far, grazing her backside.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling my hand back. The blanket’s slid down cooling off the body heat between us.

She smirked and grabbed my hand, placing it on her thigh. “It’s fine. You can touch me anywhere.”

My fingers rested on her exposed skin, a bit higher than proper since her sleep shorts were riding up. I froze, unsure of what kind of joke this was. She teased me constantly, but never like this. Her toes grazed my foot as she brought her leg closer to me.

“What… do you mean by that?” I asked, hand still stiff on her exposed skin.

She took in a deep breath. “I mean what I said.”

She didn’t elaborate and I found my thumb sliding in small circles on her thigh. Chilled bumps rose and I gently squeezed her thigh where it transitioned into the swell of her ass. My mind felt blank as I did this, driven by a tiny voice inside my head for more. Her skin was soft and warm and she smelled of the same floral soap I used.

“Hey,” Imelda said, cupping my face and taking me out of the trance I was in. “If I am wrong, please tell me...”

I watched as she slowly inched forward. I looked down at her dark rosy lips, slightly parting as they neared mine. I leaned forward and our noses brushed, her breath fanned over my cheeks, then our lips met. I didn’t feel confused like I thought I should, kissing another woman. Instead, I felt free, like I was soaring. As Imelda tilted her head to deepen the kiss, I found my hand traveling up and down her form.

I’ve never felt the spark most people describe when kissing a lover. It's always been just that, two lips touching. But this… it felt right in every way possible. The way her lips quivered pressing into mine sent a bolt straight through me. What was once a cup of the face to pull one close was now a caress of affection and devotion, and what used to be groping and foreplay was a gentle escapade to explore one another for the sake of admiration and longing.

The entire world could be burning just outside but it wouldn’t even compare to the sudden passion that was set ablaze in my heart for her, for my best friend. Imelda lay back on the bed and pulled me with her. Her tongue darted into my mouth and I couldn't suppress the noise that escaped me. Now this, this was the feeling I'd been seeking all my life in the arms of another. I smiled into her kiss realizing it had been within my reach this whole time.

I touched her soft hair and slid my fingers down to her waist. I felt her curves and the strong muscles underneath from her many sporting practices. I then dared to move my hand up her stomach, splaying my fingers out to feel all of her. She had given me permission to touch her, but I wanted to give her a chance to change her mind. The closer I got to her chest the more her breathing picked up.

I cupped her breast in my hand and felt jubilant when she moaned for me. I was falling apart, breaking and shattering, and being rebuilt by her touches and sounds. I squeezed her breast again, the thin layer of her sleep shirt leaving nothing to the imagination, and rubbed my thumb over the soft peak. Her body came alive for me, her nipple hardening under my touch. I groaned into the kiss, a new feeling sweeping over me knowing I had this effect on her.

She was my best friend, my closest ally, and here she was, moaning and rubbing her body against mine as we tangled together, pining for more of my touch. I wondered if she was just as turned on as I was. I felt the heat between my legs and couldn't get over the idea that maybe she was just as turned on too.

"Imelda" I breathed "May I… uh" I tugged at her sleep shorts, the thin fabric stretching as I did.

She started kicking them off in a flurry. "Gods, yes."

I helped her out of her shorts and panties. On a roll, I pulled off her top and she tugged mine off too. Her hands cupped my newly exposed breast and her lips moved to kiss my nipple. A jolt of pleasure shot through me at the soft yet pleasurable sensation.

I moved my hand to her thighs and pushed until she parted for me. I had been trembling but nothing like this as my hand made its way up her leg. I felt embarrassed by the shaking but adrenaline was making its way through my veins in a frenzy. Imelda whimpered when my fingers grazed her center. My breath caught when my digit ran down her slit and found her so wet.

"I want to taste you." I gently pushed her to lay flat on her back again. "Please, please Imelda. Say yes," I begged, the warmth of her slick on my fingers causing me to lose my mind.

"Yes!" She pushed on my head until I was between her thighs. A smirk grew on my lips seeing her beautiful personality come out, the one I'd grown to love.

I pushed her legs apart, looking at the sight before me. Fuck, she was perfect. Every ounce of her body was beautifully and wonderfully made just for me, it felt. I used my thumb to reveal her clit and sighed when the nub was just as pink and swollen as I'd hoped.

Imelda groaned and rocked her hips, bucking against nothing. I ran my finger down the seam and met her entrance. Effortlessly, my finger slid inside. Her walls were silky smooth as they flexed around my intruding digit.

"That's enough teasing." Imelda decided.

I nodded. "I'm sorry, I will take time to explore you more later" I apologized, giving her clit a soft kiss.

Imelda groaned and tangled her hand in my hair again, pushing until my mouth was fully on her pussy. I licked and pressed my tongue down, feeling the bud roll over my tongue and give way to pressure. Imelda was practically panting the more I lapped at her clit

I circled my lips over the swelled clit and sucked lightly until her breath hitched. I used my tongue to swirl in circles until her legs were trembling around me. Her moans and reactions were all I could have ever wanted from her. I let up, giving her clit a momentary break while I moved down her cunt to taste the wetness unfolding. The taste was like no other. I groaned as I ventured more into the source.

I pressed my tongue flat and ran it all along the seam of her pussy. I gripped her rocking hips, keeping her at the perfect angle for my mouth. Imelda yelled my name with a string of curses and began to arch off the bed.

She didn't have to tell me, I knew, I could tell how close she was in the way her body amped up. I focused on her clit again, slipping my finger back inside her and rubbing circles over her g-spot. She was pulling at my hair, anchoring my face to rub her clit all over my tongue in a desperate manner.

I had never been so turned on in my life than when her moans became lewd and her cunt throbbed around my finger. I had known her for so long, I thought I’d known everything about her. But, this was very new. The way she whimpered my name, her lewd low moans, how she arched forward, keeping eye contact with me as pleasure pulsed through her. I reached up, cupping her breast in my hand and rubbing to add just a hint more pleasure to her euphoric moment.

When she came down, I kissed all over her thighs. I moved up her stomach and kissed her breasts again. I moved to her neck and tasted her skin and a hint of sweat.

She gasped and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight to her warm body. We lay like that for a long moment before I was pushed down, looking up at her.

It was my turn, then it was her turn again… then my turn again, over and over until the sun filled the bedroom.

We got about 45 minutes of sleep before we decided it was fruitless and got up for the day.

We took a shower together, and I got to wash her beautiful hair for her. She helped clean me off with the wash rag getting every inch of me clean. We made-out in the shower under the warm running water. I told her how beautiful she was and got to watch her cheeks blush in the light for the first time. She rolled her eyes playfully and pulled me in for an even hotter kiss.

We floated through breakfast and held hands under the table. We didn't leave each other's company until days later for her first mandatory quidditch practice began. The holiday break was over and classes would be starting up again soon.

I sat outside the quidditch pitch studying to get a head start on various classes until she was done. The next time I saw her, she had her hair back in a low ponytail and wore her green quidditch uniform. 

She had a single yellow flower in her hand as she joined me on the lawn. She offered it to me, twirling it in her fingers, with one question "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The hug I gave her had me tackling her to the ground. We both giggled and I said yes, a thousand times yes, as I kissed her neck and cheek. We finally looked at one another, her smile more wide than I'd ever seen it, and shared our first kiss as a couple.

So, Diary, that is why I haven't been around the last few weeks to update you. I will try to keep up with my entries in the future, but I can't promise I won't be swept away by my girlfriend yet again.

M.C.

[chaosfairy18]

So I was going through WIPs and found that I had written almost 3k for a highschool AU. I'll just share most of this here I suppose because it is so funny and cute ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thinking about his boyfriend, Mush grinned widely into his locker, getting all the books he would need in the day out. Just a few more minutes and he’d get to see him. The last time had been on Friday before Blink got to his orchestra rehearsal and he himself had to get to soccer practise. They hadn’t had time to meet during the weekend with all of their homework and families, but they had been together for long enough that it didn’t matter.

Of course he loved being with Louis, but it wasn’t a need to see him everyday to make sure they still loved each other anymore. He knew that was the case.

Still, Mush hadn’t expected to see Blink grinning like a madman with a red-faced Race trying to get in his way as much as he could, elbowing him, pulling him by the arm, but not accomplishing much to deter him. “Nick, Nicky you won’t believe- Ouch! Why’d you got so sharp elbows, man? Mush, come here, I’ll have to tell you before I get stabbed to death, quick!”

Not one to refuse his sweetheart anything – and also intrigued what could possibly get Race to resort to almost killing Louis – he got closer, Race only doubling his efforts to shut Blink up without much success. “Don’t you dare, Louis Ryan Balletti, I’ll leak those photos of you I swear to god-“

“Do it, I dare you, I don’t care, this is better. Nick, Nick, guess what happened on Friday-“

If this was something from last Friday, it must have happened in their orchestra rehearsals. If Mush wasn’t wrong there was something special happening in these ones, he just didn’t quite remember what. “Racetrack, come on, let my boyfriend live, he’ll tell me sooner or later.”

“Not if he’s dead he won’t.”

“Race. No murder in public places, even your family can’t get you out of that.”

Race rolled his eyes at the implications. Race’s Italian family being part of the mafia had been a running joke for years, since they first found out about his heritage. But at least he stopped, leaving Blink to grasp his shoulders and grin like he’d just won the lottery. “Race, our dear little Tony, has a crush on one of the theatre kids.”

“It’s not a crush-“

“And how it happened is the best thing I’ve ever seen, I swear, Nick-“

“It’s not that important, Blink, you’re makin’ it out to be way bigger than it was.”

While the two kept bickering, Mush remembered what had been so special about Friday’s rehearsals. This year, the theatre club did a musical and instead of using pre-recorded music they wanted to include the school orchestra for the tracks. It was very ambitious, in his opinion, but if someone could do it, it would be Ms. Medda. She was an angel of a woman and responsible for both clubs, even though she shared the orchestra with someone else, who was also the conductor.

“Stop for a sec.”, started Mush, “It was the first meeting with the theatre kids, right? Because of the musical?”

Race, looking resigned, and Blink, looking manic, turned to him again. “Yeah! And for the first fifteen minutes Medda and Hannah were discussing some stuff so we were left alone and could just talk, you know? And apparently one of the Delanceys is in theatre.”

"Anyways, if this is happening, I may as well explain it. So Oscar was being really annoying, arguing with one of our girls, Stray, she’s playing the flute, and I don’t even know if he was trying to flirt or just plain arguing but it was getting loud and she was yelling at him to leave him alone.”

“And then comes Race’s knight in shining armour-“

“Then comes a guy from theatre I don’t know and pulls Oscar away and as he’s not backing down, so he punches him square in the face.”

“Race was practically swooning.”

“No I wasn’t, shut up.”, denied Race, already getting red in the face again.

~~~~~~ I skipped a bit of scene setting from that Friday pov ~~~~~~

With how Race had to look back to talk to Blink he didn’t notice Oscar Delancey, Mr. Wiesel’s nephew, come up to their front row and talk to one of their flute players, Stray. Even if he’d seen it, he probably wouldn’t have thought much of it, he and the rest of their friend group didn’t like the Delanceys much, with Jack fighting them regularly, but he wouldn’t have let that influence his orchestra experience. He’d at most have wondered why Oscar was in the theatre club. If he wanted to talk to someone that wasn’t their business.

Well, just talking wouldn’t have been their business anyhow.

Everything happened pretty fast after that. Race heard it get loud, registered Oscar and Stray arguing about God knows what and he’d had half a mind to get to the front and intercept the argument, as it didn’t have a place in today’s rehearsals, as another theatre kid got up to them, pulling Oscar back and sternly talking to him, much quieter. He had thought that was that and already wanted to turn back to Blink to ask him whatever had just been going on, as the expression on the unknown blond boy turned furious and he punched Oscar square in the face.

Race would later never admit it, not under torture or anything, but the moment he reeled back for his punch, as he was halfway turned in Race’s direction, it almost seemed like time slowed down.

He hadn’t seen much of the blond boy before, but the only thing that came to mind as he fully saw his profile was the word pretty. He had a kind of petite features, making him seem like one of the fairies in stories that would lure you into eternal damnation or something with a wrong word, with bright eyes whose colours Antonio couldn’t quite see from this far away that burned with an anger that made it more seem like he was some spirit of vengeance that had descended on earth for revenge and-

As the punch collected Race slightly shook his head. What had just gotten into him? He already knew he was very much attracted to men but that had never happened before. Even as Oscar tried to hit back, and as Medda got in between the boys, he could only think that whoever that was looked really pretty. And could probably kill him if he ever found out what kind of weird ass thoughts he’d just had about him.

Being absorbed in different renditions of ‘damn, he’s pretty’, Race didn’t notice that Blink had seen each and every reaction his friend had shown upon witnessing the scene and was already planning out his interrogation. For whenever Race returned to the real world.

Mush laughed at the explanation, obviously siding with Blink. The traitor. “Love at first punching a Delancey, that’s a first.”

Absolutely done with the assholes he called friends, Race intended to turn around and sulk or search for any of his other friends who hadn’t been present at Friday, but as he saw something – or someone down the hall he quickly turned around to blend in with the other chattering students in the hall.

Naturally, his asshole friends noticed. “What’d you see? Snyder? Or-“ Race could see the exact moment Blink recognized Race’s predicament as his face split into another gleeful grin. “Oh, who have we here?”

Mush, who hasn’t been subtle a day in his life got onto his tiptoes and leaned on Louis’ shoulder to balance himself while he looked around. “Is it that blond over there? Wait, I know him.”

“You do?”, slipped out of Race before he could stop himself. Goddammit, he was already a pathetic mess, and he didn’t even know anything about the guy.

While Blink’s smile turned into a grin Mush either hid his maliciousness better or wanted to be genuinely helpful. “We played against each other in soccer in Middle School, he played for a Brooklyn school. Everyone called him Spot, I think his last name was Conlon.”

Spot Conlon. That would make it a lot easier to find his accounts on any socials, just to see what he- no, no, don’t be a stalker, you don’t even know him, the crush will pass, don’t be weird.

Naturally, the universe hated him – or loved him, depending on when you ask him about this occurrence– so when Race got lightly tapped on the shoulder he had expected Jack, or Crutchie, or David asking him to compare their physics homework, not the object of his affections who shouldn’t even know he existed.

Standing opposite of Spot-the-blond-theatre-club-member he noticed that he was only minimally shorter than the other, which didn’t happen often, usually he had at least half a head less in height than everyone else, which didn’t help the fluttery feeling in his stomach. Spot’s eyes were also grey or a very light blue, which made it seem like he was unravelling every thought Race had just had about him. It didn’t make him any less pretty.

“Um, hi?”, he stuttered, not quite sure what could have prompted the other to talk to him. What if he’s a psychic and just heard all the things he thought about him-

“Hi, you’re Tony Higgins, right? Play the first trumpet in band?” And Mush must have been right with him being from Brooklyn because you could definitely hear that. Racetrack tried to concentrate fully on not turning red because he was forced to talk to a crush he hadn’t even really processed yet and god he was such a bi disaster, this wasn’t even funny.

“Yeah, that’s me.”, he said lamely. He heard quiet snickers from behind him, undoubtedly from Mush and Blink. He’d kind of forgotten they were still behind him.

“I’m Sean Conlon, I play Dracula in the production, I wanted to ask you somethin’ about a song I’m pretty sure you got a solo in, but,” he looked down at his phone for a second, “It’s gettin’ pretty close to first lesson, you got time after school to meet up?” Whichever higher power was at fault for this happening got both a thank you and a curse, because this wasn’t in his plans, he wants to meet me, shit what do I do?

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything going on.” It would mean he wouldn’t be able to drive Blink and Mush home, but he was sure Jack or David had some free seats, this was more important, and they only deserved it for how they laughed about him. Who’s laughing now? Well, not Race, but not them either.

Race wasn’t prepared for the small grin Sean – Spot, whatever – sent his was shortly before turning around. “Cool, see you then.”

Managing for another ten seconds to look like he was totally normal, he promptly fell into himself as he turned back around to Nick and Louis who were cooing in his direction. “What the fuck was that. You saw that too, right? I didn’t just hallucinate talking to him?”

Mush, with a far too sappy expression cooed: “You’ve already fallen so hard, it’s adorable.”

“And yeah, he was here, must be your lucky day, Racey. Should I already plan the wedding?”

Grumbling, he rolled his eyes. “That’d imply he’s interested.”

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

Yeah this is all but I do think it is funny and cute. It was supposed to be fake dating :3

[remnantsofthepast-if]

Monthly Update - August 2024

Well, this month we finally started Act 2! I'm excited to show everything I have planned for this story, especially after hearing this song that made me take notes upon notes about the ending of Remnants!

A bit early, I know, lol! But I've always had a clear idea of how it would be, and that song created a vivid image in my mind of how it will turn out :D. In fact, the ending of the whole story and each character is already written ;)

But that will have to wait a bit until we get there. For now, let's focus back on Act 2! I’ve already written the beginning of Chapter 2. It was supposed to be something simple, but the characters got a bit rebellious and wanted longer scenes for each of them, so that’s what I did. After all, they’re the ones telling the story, I’m just writing it down, haha! That said, we're close to a scene I've been eager to write for a long time. It’s a silly thing, but it makes me laugh a lot because it’s not just comedy for the sake of comedy, but the characters would genuinely act that way in that situation! You’ll see when it’s published, and I hope it amuses you as much as it does me, xD

By the way, I’ve started using the option to schedule posts on Patreon and now I regret not doing it sooner, lol! I’m really bad at social media :’). But anyway, I’m happy because I’ve got all this month’s posts, and part of next month’s, prepared and everything is more organized.

This weekend I’ll keep preparing stuff for Patreon. I want to publish a couple of Q&A sessions for the characters, but since I already know everything about them, it’s hard for me to come up with questions to ask them, ^^’. But it’s all right, I’ll think of something. And if any of you have questions for the ROs, Enid, or any other character, don’t hesitate to let me know! The characters would be happy to answer :D. Just be careful what you ask Belicar/Nisa… that could go very wrong xD

Without further ado, I’ll stop rambling and let you enjoy your weekend. I just want to end by thanking all of you for staying with me on this adventure, for reading, sharing, and buying this story. Thank you all for the tremendous support you’re giving me, it means so much to me <3

---

Have a great month, and see you at the end of September ;)

[nicoforlifetrue]

chapter three

read part two here

read it on ao3 here

and read it on tumblr below!

Getting into the shut-up cafe was shockingly easy; Green could only assume it was because fake-Second came here semi often. The front windows and door were boarded up, but there was a back window with a tarp over it that you could lift and slip inside. The broken down space had Second written all over it— somewhat literally, considering the sketched approximation of a cat that bound over and started purring against Red’s legs upon entry.

The entire space was filled with doodles, and was oddly clean for somewhere that was supposed to be condemned— a pile of real blankets and pillows covered in sketched cat fur sat in one corner, with a note written into the wall beside them claiming they were for “friends + Mia the shop cat”. Sketched vines crawled across the walls and ceiling, blossoming with black and white flowers. A cup sat on what used to probably function as the counter, a photoshop brush, a paint pencil, and various assorted animation tools sticking out of it, with an eraser carelessly thrown just beside it.

The few remaining tables were covered in sketches that didn't move, and as the group explored the space a woodpecker in Second’s distinct style fluttered down from the rafters and settled on one of them, head tilted as it watched everyone before flying over to a sketched jukebox and pecking at it until a soft classical melody floated through the space.

“Well, if he isn’t Second he’s damn good at pretending,” Green couldn't help but joke, and a few of the others chuckled before going back to the uncomfortable silence because they all knew the truth. Only Second could do this. He was the only one whose drawings came to life so easily— others had tried to replicate it, but that just hadn’t worked, the drawings would remain lifeless and still until Second added his own touch and willed it to come to life.

So either this other Second had been right, and they had somehow— what, changed universes? Or a person exactly like Second had somehow gained the power. Somehow both possibilities seemed equally unlikely, but with that poster Red found… well, there’s only so many options, and he's not entirely sure how cloning would work with the hollow heads. In fact, he doesn't even want to think of multiples of them running around the same world. Just Cho and Dark had done enough damage,, but if there were more of them?

He felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Well it’s time to play the waiting game,” he hummed with a clap of his hands, grinning at the worried faces of the group that quite quickly turned into a myriad of grins, Red grabbing a blanket and spreading it across the floor as everyone gathered into what was basically a circle.

No one pointed out they had left a space open for Second.

“Alright, inventory, what we got?” Green asked, already looking over his own. “I’ve got a full tool set, a half stack of note blocks, some string, and for some reason twenty sponges.”

“Half stack of most passive spawn eggs, twenty iron blocks, some wheat, full tool set, and a stack of leads,” Red shared next; Mia the shop cat made home in his lap with a disgruntled mew.

“Two stacks of netherwart, full tool set but no shield, enough potions to create god himself, and a stack of golden carrots,” Blue hummed, chewing on a piece of the aforementioned netherwart.

“The staff of course, two stacks of redstone, just my pickaxe, and a half stack of pistons,” Yellow basically waved off, having said staff out and fiddling with the command block inside with a concentrated expression. “You know I don’t carry much on me when I have it.”

“Just a couple stacks of fireworks and some steak, I didn’t think I’d be hanging out for too long,” Purple admits with a shrug, looking just a bit embarrassed.

“Well that works.. alright, so that's our supplies, we’re in a world where apparently Cho joined rocket really early on, Second doesn’t know us but is willing to help, and we know it’s Second because, well, obviously. And the only hint we have to what happened is a heat haze dome… dumbest theory wins, go!” As he says that he pulls out his phone and starts a timer, for five minutes— Purple, who’s seated next to him, looks extremely lost before Yellow speaks while still fiddling with the staff.

“Obviously Second’s father forgot to clean the heat sink and this is all just a very strange dream as we wait for him to wake up and fix this mess.” It’s spoken in his normal deadpan, the only thing giving away his participation a faint smirk. “That’s why it was a heat haze that did this, it’s quite literally scrambling our brains like an egg.”

“No, obviously this is Cho’s idea of a prank,” Blue cut in, leaning on Yellow with a grin. “Him and Second have been planning this for actual months, made an entire city on the drawing tablet just to mess with us— clearly they wanted something so ridiculous we’d only believe it if they really sold it, you know Cho, he doesn't do that silly thing called moderation.”

“Cho is the terrorist The Chosen One?” Purple whispers in his ear; he nods, watching them pale even further. “And Cho is Second’s brother?” 

“Oh please you two,” Red scoffs, leaning back, arms crossed in faux superiority. “You’re fools if you don't think we haven't managed to simply successfully fall asleep in the nether! This is why it’s so dangerous, it connects you to the hivemind and shows you the impossible!”

“Yeah obviously, Alan makes them sturdy, duh,” Green whispers back, watching Blue gasp in false offense.

“Of course you'd go with the possessed option, don't you see you fool, Sec and Cho are finally getting back at you for the cake incident, the rest of us are in on it too!”

“He didn't use thermal paste on the heat sink, it’s hot glue,” Yellow quipped, grin growing at the conjoined rebuttal. “I’m just saying, he built the PC on his own this time, perhaps we should have stayed in the harddrive a bit longer.”

Green can’t help but smile when he hears Purple giggle under his breath— the waiting game was something from back before Second had freed them, a way to pass the time while waiting for something new to happen. First you take stock of your surroundings, then make a scenario out of those surroundings! It used to be about what the users were doing, or about the last stick to pass through their home…

And now it’s about their current situation— five minutes to come up with the stupidest, most unbelievable, but still somewhat logical, course of events that could lead them here. The last bit had to be tacked on after the color monster bit went on for Eight. Hours.

…They had been very bored before Second came along.

“Nope, Blue just left the potion maker running until the potion turned to steam and now we’re here,” Purple finally added, giggling even more when horrified “NO”s turned onto them. Red wins the first round, after pulling out the idea that the reason everything was extra weird was because the piglin tribe Blue had befriended were attempting to treat them with mushrooms, obviously making things significantly worse.

It goes on like that for hours— new, impossibly dumber situations being pulled for various other things, like why Blue had enough netherwart to not eat in a millisecond, or why the only one without a full tool set was Yellow, before finally they end up just chatting, timer forgotten, musing about this world’s version of people.

“Think Minecraft actually got destroyed this time? Or like, did Cho stop him?” Red hums, gesturing at the ceiling. “Or did you like, stop him on your own, Purp?”

“Eh, probably on my own, we can still use craft stuff here so it’s gotta exist, right?” Green’s being used as a pillow, Purple’s cheek squishing into his back as the stick’s wings flex sleepily. “Speaking of Cho, what happened to his partner in crime, that red hollow?”

“Ugh, Dark,” Blue huffs with a shiver, nods spreading throughout the group in agreement with the noise. “If we’re lucky? Dead. If we’re not? Highly injured but still a threat, and we’re screwed.”

“Well then, consider yourselves properly fucked,” a voice growls from above them, so familiar and horrifying it has Green leaping to his feet with weapons out in less than a second, the others all doing the same as they look up— bright red glowing eyes that match Chosen’s twinkle down at them from the darkness of the rafters, and light catches on a sharp-toothed grin just before he jumps down, form revealed in the soft light of the diner.

“Hello children,” The Dark Lord purrs, “miss me?~”

[veinsglisten]

I procrastinate by distracting myself with different things to do, as if I will magically gather up enough strength to do the things I’m supposed to do, and as if the impending doom at the back of my mind isn’t draining every ounce of energy off me.

Every time the clock is ticking, I feel incredibly lonely, and in fact, I’m just helpless and my mind desperately needs somewhere else to go to, other than the task at hand and it latches onto you, this vague memory of you and my illusionary idea of you, fading into one.

I hang onto the thought of you, I always do, because you were the only experience with love I’ve ever had, because I thought it was real. It was real, wasn’t it? I’ve never had an actual person love and cherish me the way you did (albeit probably not in the best way) and then discard and abandon me the way you did (in the worst way possible). You made me wonder, time and time again, if it was real, as if I met a time-traveler, or a reptile-person, or an alien, and no one could confirm it was true (it was like their cover-up against my testimony, which was the only testimony), and no one believed my encounter, which has stayed with me as a secret I could never bring up, unless someone at the table brought it up, but not because they knew this incident of my past, but because they heard it from the news, about another person involved, as if I wasn’t the one deeply affected by this incident. And most of the time, the matter just got swept under the table, as if I wasn’t allowed to delve deep into it, because I wasn’t supposed to, because I, like everyone else, should’ve already moved on a long time ago.

And I did, I did move on and I never thought I would still be writing about you right here, right now. I’m genuinely surprised, and a little bit disgusted by this cringey ongoing passage about you, a man I don’t think I love anymore, being the me I am now. I’m not sure how I feel about you anymore, sometimes I still feel things (maybe?), sometimes I just feel numb and confused (?), sometimes I feel like I want to feel things about you but apparently I don’t, I don’t anymore. I think about you because I want to think about the future. I want to imagine what my future partner would be like, but why do I have to think about you? Why do I have to think about old love to conjure up some ideas for new love? It doesn’t have to be, right? But I guess it’s just a helpless instinct for human to resort to past experience for some new direction in order to navigate in life. I guess it’s just the way it is because old habits really die screaming.

(p.s. I’m just marveling at the fact that taylor’s songwriting has once again subconsciously affected me and made me spill out some fragments of this prose like the part about the incident and the conspired cover-up and the way old habits die screaming. I didn’t realize I was affected by these notions and metaphors until I was writing about it.

In fact, I haven’t written such a personal piece in a long time and I’m thrilled by the prospect of possibly writing more by unraveling my thoughts and in the meantime discovering myself even more. I wish I would read more and write more.

And I’ve realized once again that sharing your writing could be such a vulnerable thing to do, like opening your wounds and putting yourself in jeopardy of judgement from others, so how taylor was able to share her long-kept secrets with the world is beyond belief. I know she’s been doing this for a long time but still the amount of courage it took and the amount of trust she placed in us and the world for understanding, for understanding her as she is, as a living and learning human being.)

[captainsophiestark]

Fatherhood

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: “Do you remember?”

Summary: Y/N and Nik have been dating since the Mikaelsons moved to New Orleans and Y/N got turned into a vampire. When Nik starts to feel worried about his ability to parent Hope, who's due to join the world soon, Y/N helps reassure him.

Word Count: 1,603

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: I forgot to post this yesterday lol, so here it is! The fic for today’s Fictober prompt will be coming later today too :)

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I hummed to myself as I walked through the door of the bedroom I shared with my boyfriend, Klaus Mikaelson. I'd just finished baking a BUNCH of cookies with Hayley and Rebekah, and it had been a much-needed stress relief, especially after all the chaos of New Orleans lately. Besides, Hayley had been craving cookies in her heavily-pregnant state, so who were we to deny her?

I headed into the bedroom fully intending to change my clothes and go run some errands, but I stopped short at the sight of Nik staring out the window with his hands behind his back, a grim expression on his face.

"Uh oh," I said, gently closing the door behind me before slowly crossing the room towards my boyfriend. "I recognize that expression. You've got your brooding face on."

Normally, the teasing would've at least made Nik give me a half-smile or an eyeroll. But this time he didn't even glance back at me from his vigil.

"Nik? What's wrong?" I asked, finally reaching him and putting a hand on his shoulder as soon as I did. "C'mon, you can talk to me."

He sighed heavily before shaking his head and plastering a smile to his face. For those who didn't know him very well, it probably would've been quite convincing. But I knew him better than almost anyone else, and it didn't fool me for a second.

"Nothing," he said, trying to maintain the ruse all the same. "Some trouble with the witches that I'm deciding how to deal with, but nothing out of the ordinary."

With that, he tried to step around me and head towards the door. I frowned and caught his arm, gently pulling him to a stop. He turned to look at me, the fake-unbothered expression still on his face as he raised his eyebrows at me.

"Nik. I know you way better than that. I can tell something's wrong, so please, talk to me," I said. Nik hesitated, so I held his stare, trying to communicate nothing but openness and acceptance. He'd lived so much of his life alone, and carrying secrets without trusting anyone, that I knew he was still getting used to letting someone else in. We'd been making incredible progress lately, though, and I hoped we could keep that momentum up.

"I suppose..." he said, starting softly as he turned away from me and went to put on some loud music to defeat anyone trying to listen in. "I'm starting to doubt whether or not I will make for a very good father."

He stayed over by the stereo as he admitted it, fiddling with the knobs and not looking at me. I didn't want to spook him off of the conversation, so I sat down on our bed and watched him.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

He shifted around on his feet, and it was a few minutes before he finally answered. He still didn't look at me as he spoke, either.

"Well, just look at the example set by my father," he spat the word father, and I couldn't help frowning a bit at the thought of Mikael, too. "I've never had a stable parent. I don't want to be like them, but they're all I've ever known. I'm... afraid... of turning into them."

I chewed the inside of my lip, thinking over my next words carefully. After a second, I stood, and crossed the room to Nik. He still didn't look at me, but I put my hands on his shoulders and saw some of the tension ease out of them all the same.

"Nik... you're already doing better than both of them combined by trying to protect Hope at all," I started. He huffed a small laugh, and I continued. "Besides, Nik, you've been taking care of the rest of your family for years. I mean sure, a child is probably going to be a little different, but... even against your parents specifically, you were the person standing up and protecting your family, above all else."

Nik sighed and leaned back towards me, and I wasted no time wrapping my arms around his stomach. I held him tight to me, resting my head against his shoulder and trying to communicate just how loved he really was.

"What if it's not enough?" he finally sighed. "What if, no matter how hard I try, I give her a life of pain and trauma like my parents gave me?"

My heart cracked at the words. Nik had quite literally been through hell, often at the hands of his parents, and I wished every day there was something I could do to take away his pain. Instead, however, I just spoke the words that came to mind and hoped they might help.

"Niky, I know you may not feel this way, but I have nothing but absolute confidence that you're going to be a great dad." He started to scoff and brush me off, but I held tight and kept going. He needed to hear this, even if he wouldn't let himself completely believe it. "Babe, you saved me when I first turned into a vampire. Do you remember?"

He hummed noncommittally and kept staring at the floor, so I moved (still hugging him tight around the middle) until I could look him in the eyes.

"I was devastated. I was terrified. I was alone, and I was on the brink of death because this city didn't place nice with newly-turned vampires. And then I met you. And you showed me how to live despite technically being dead, and got me a daylight ring, and dammit, Nik, you saved my life. You were kind, and caring, and wonderful, and I know you don't usually let people see that part of yourself, but I know it exists. And if it can exist for me, someone you'd really just met but happened to have good chemistry with? You're gonna be a million times above and beyond that with your lovely, beautiful, wonderful daughter when she comes into this world."

Nik sighed out a long breath, a tight smile tugging at his mouth even as he tried to fight it off. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me and held me to him like his life depended on it. I caught a slight shimmer of emotion in his eyes too, and although I knew he wouldn't let the tears fall, I could tell he was closer than normal by the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

"One other thing you should probably know, Nik?" I said, my voice muffled against his chest. He hummed, nestling in a little closer against my hair as he did. "No parent is perfect. You learn as you go. But as long as you're thoughtful in your choices and how you parent, and you're willing to learn and adapt? You're gonna be fine. And damned if that lovely little girl isn't going to grow up surrounded by so many people who love her, with you at the top of the list."

Nik tightened his grip around my waist, and I squeezed him right back. We stayed like that for a few long moments, before he took a deep breath and finally pulled away.

"Have I told you lately how much I adore you?" he asked, staring at me with love in his eyes. I gave him a warm smile in return.

"Yeah, but I could stand to hear it again."

We shared a soft laugh, then Nik took another deep breath and shook off the last of his stress. He straightened again, then fixed me with the devious smile I knew and loved so well.

"So, now that I don't have to pretend to go deal with a witch crisis, and assuming no actual witch crisis has arisen in the minutes we were speaking... it looks like I have a free afternoon."

"Ooo. I have some ideas," I said, giving him a sly smile as I leaned in and put my hand on his bicep. He raised an eyebrow, and I fluttered my eyelashes at him as I responded. "We could have a movie marathon while we eat a ton of the cookies Hayley, Rebekah, and I just baked."

Nik sighed and rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"I have to admit, love, that's not exactly the idea I was thinking of. But I suppose it sounds good anyway."

I grinned and dropped the flirty act. "Great! You use your superspeed to steal some cookies, I'll get some good movies together."

Nik raised an eyebrow and gave me a skeptical look. "When you say good movies do you actually mean good movies?"

"Mmm, that depends. I was thinking I'd pick a few of my favorite Disney movies from when I grew up so you'd know things about them in case you wanted to share them with Hope?"

Nik gave me a warm smile, then took a few steps backwards towards the door.

"I'd consider those excellent movies then," he said. "I'll be back with the cookies before you know it."

With that, he disappeared from the room. I smiled to myself as I moved towards the tv, mentally trying to come up with a list of the best movies for us to watch. Despite (and sometimes because of) his concerns, I knew Nik would be an excellent parent. And I absolutely couldn't wait to see how he would grow and change with her as they went through life together.

[crissiebaby]

Double Diaper Dare: Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, WAM, hypermessing, hypnosis, diaper filling, slime transformation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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

Codi’s Diary: Entry 141 (Cont.)

So I suppose this would be a good time to address the diaper-obsessed elephant in the room. No amount of self-education on the subject of sex could’ve prepared me for what it would be like to live with someone whose brain was wired to think uncontrollably horny thoughts seemingly 24/7. In that regard, Crissie was in a league of her own. From the moment I set foot in that nursery, I could practically feel her hungry, lustful eyes watching me at all times. And trust me, I have zero interest in knowing what depraved ideas must’ve been churning in her head the entire time. 

Needless to say, whatever sexual desires I had for myself had to be put on the back burner all thanks to one obnoxiously kinky brat. Not that I wasn’t still horny. (I very much was.) It was just that anytime I showed even the slightest hint of being aroused, Crissie would leap at the opportunity to tease and embarrass me. It was beyond frustrating since it pretty much meant I had to be on guard around her at all times.

Eventually, I became sort of numb to her antics. That being said, after looking back over the last paragraph, I feel I’ve been a tad harsh. It’s not like I hate Crissie. She can be very kind and fun to be around given the right circumstances. I just wish she’d demonstrate even a modicum of self-control because the moment diapers are in play, rational thought goes out the window with her. 

At least, that’s what I thought…

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

Exiting the portal, Codi found herself standing before a large, mostly empty room with a ceiling as tall as a warehouse. Unlike Jane’s office, this place was nowhere near as warm and cozy, causing her to fold her arms over her chest. “Where did she send us this time?” she said to herself, sighing as she looked around the massive space, finding various pieces of machinery scattered about.

Thankfully, Crissie wasn’t far behind to answer Codi’s question. “Welcome to the central testing chamber of CrissBaby HQ!” she said, throwing her arms up in jubilation. Sadly, her excitement wasn’t shared by Codi in the slightest. She slowly lowered her arms, “Ahem, w-we shouldn’t have to worry about anyone happening by us for a while. Ya know, with it being nighttime and all.”

Having previously read through several of Crissie’s Test Dummy chapters, Codi was well aware of what kinds of mischief went on in here. “Well then, what’s the plan? You gonna fill my diaper up with oatmeal or force me into that locking onesie? Ooh! Maybe you’ll use that rose aphrodisiac on me and get me all hot and bothered!” she said facetiously, her words dripping with sarcasm. In reality, she had no idea what Crissie was planning but that didn’t mean she had to act like it.

Crissie responded as expected, “N-No! There’s a ton of other cool stuff in here that I haven’t even written about yet, just you wait!” She pouted as she looked around the room, hoping to come up with Codi’s next dare quickly. Since she already knew about the filling machine and the rose aphrodisiac, she was going to have to make up something even more blushy, “Let’s just look around for now. See what we can find.”

“Hmmm, I’ve got a better idea,” said Codi, a pair of metaphorical horns growing atop her head, “Why don’t we each find one invention for the other to try? Then we can do our next dares together.” 

Crissie’s eyes lit up upon hearing Codi’s idea, never once thinking about what slime girl was plotting. “That sounds super fun!” she said, happy to see that Codi was finally getting into the game a bit more. She was also happy that she now had time to look through the various inventions still under observation to find the perfect one.

As Crissie wandered off into the sea of mechanical ingenuity, Codi had already set her sights on a particular device stationed against the back wall of the testing room. Approaching a tarp with a “Keep Out” sign on it, she quickly tore it off, revealing a chair with restraints built into it and a large, bulky VR headset with exposed wires all over it. She wasn’t certain what it did or how it even worked but that didn’t stop the headset from giving off an ominous vibe. “M-Maybe I’ll look around a bit longer,” she said, grabbing the tarp off the ground and tossing it back onto the machine haphazardly.

“Codi! Over here!” shouted Crissie, causing Codi’s heart to sink. She’d hoped such an enticing task as this would keep Crissie occupied for a while as she struggled with a final decision. Sadly, one look at her smug, mischievous mug told her that this was not the case. 

Hopping up onto the edge of one of the tall, metal tables, Crissie swung her legs back and forth childishly as she waited for Codi to inch her way over. Closing both fists, she held her hands out in front of her, trying and failing to hide how giddy she was. “Pick a hand,” she said, bouncing up and down on her fresh diaper.

Rolling her eyes, Codi considered choosing neither and just walking away. However, the prospect of Crissie whining that she didn’t play along properly was enough for her to do the bare minimum. She tapped Crissie's left fist, saying, “There, happy?”

“Hehehehe! Very!” cackled Crissie, her booming laughter causing Codi to recoil from the abrupt noise. Opening her palm, she revealed a harmless-looking piece of gum with the words, “Bubbly Baby” written on the side.

Annoyed with Crissie’s games, Codi snatched the piece of gum out of Crissie's hand and began examining it for any clues as to what it did. Finding nothing more than the gum’s stupid name, she lamented to the usual strategy, which was pressing Crissie directly for information with the power of sarcasm, “So what? It looks like a standard piece of gum. You planning to turn me into a blueberry or something?”

“Pffffff! Nah! I don’t think that’s the kind of thing they’d make here…and if it was, Master would’ve let me try it first,” said Crissie, giggling slightly at the thought of Codi ballooning up, “Besides, you’re already purple on the inside, so it’d be a waste anyway. Just try it already. I Double Diaper Dare you!”

Scoffing at the purple remark, Codi narrowed her gaze and stuck her tongue out a Crissie before unwrapping the innocuous piece of gum and tossing it into her mouth. How much damage could one piece of gum do anyway?

Chomping down on the rubbery sugar square, Codi was overwhelmed by how sweet the piece of gum was. The simple bubble gum flavor was so powerful that it nearly caused her to gag. She quickly spit the piece of gum back into her hand before scraping off the taste on her tongue with her teeth, “Bleh! Nope! There’s a reason that gum is still being tested. Find something else, non-edible preferably,” she said, placing the slightly chewed gum back in its wrapper and tossing it in the nearby trash can.

“Awww, fiiiiiiiiiiiine,” grumbled Crissie, pouting as she waded back into the sea of inventing materials.

Left on her own once again, Codi turned her attention toward ruining Crissie to the best of her ability. Unfortunately, anytime she found a device or innovation that seemed perfect, she then had to remember that for Crissie, most of the stuff in here would work better as a reward than a punishment. No, if she wanted to get the better of Crissie, she’d need to find something that even the biggest diaper perv in the world would consider terrible. 

Suddenly, before she could find the perfect device to use on Crissie, Codi began to feel a strange buzzing sensation overtake her mouth as if her teeth were vibrating. Not only that but her tongue felt so dry and tasted almost ashy, something she was not a fan of. She couldn’t believe it but she found herself missing the abundance of flavor that the chewing gum possessed. At least the sugary, sweet substance was better than this.

Searching around the room, Codi couldn’t spot a single source of water to wash the dreadful feeling from her mouth that only seemed to be growing stronger. It was getting to the point where she’d ingest just about anything to quell the awful oral sensations. Looking back at the trash can with the wad of gum inside of it, her desperation reached its boiling point as she dove into the bin to recover the lone piece. Removing its wrapper a second time, she stuffed the gum back into her mouth and began chewing, gaining some instant relief as the tingling subsided. Begrudgingly, the flavor from earlier permeated, tasting almost stronger than it did before. It was as if she was sucking on a tube of vanilla frosting.

Over on the other side of the testing chamber, Crissie continued to sort through the various doodads and thingamajigs, hoping to secure the ultimate humiliation for Codi to guarantee her victory. “Diaper glue… Nah…A nappy with a simple lock pattern on the front…Well, it's about time but no…Extra-Strength Lisp Lollies…that’s so last season…” Despite the endless array of options, nothing seemed to fit the mold of what she was looking for, at that was until she spotted something that made her heart flutter.

“Hey, Cooooooodi! Come over here!” said Crissie in a sing-songy voice. Holding a diaper with four leg holes in her hand, she felt herself getting excited at the prospect of testing out what looked to be a two-seated diaper with Codi. And with the power of Double Diaper Dare, there’s no way she could refuse. Seconds soon turned into minutes, though, as she waited for Codi to join her. Hopping up on her tippy-toes, she looked around the room, wondering where her diapered companion had run off to. With the double-wide diaper in hand, she began to retrace her steps, hoping to find Codi along the way.

Now that Codi was nowhere to be found, the dimly lit testing facility felt a lot more imposing than it did before. Crissie hugged the extra large nappy to her chest, finding comfort in the crinkly padding. “Codi! Seriously, this isn’t funny!” she yelled, her anxiety mounting as she made it back to the table that held the recently tested gum.

“Ehehehehehe!”

“Eeeeeeep!” shouted Crissie as the sound of Codi’s laughter caused her to jump. She instinctively let out a little bit of pee into her diaper, completely unaware that her diaper was swelling beneath her. Fixing her face into a frown, she stomped over to the source to find Codi hiding around the wide, metal table. “You big meanie! You know I don’t like jump scares!”

Rounding the side of the table, Crissie folded her arms across her chest as she stared down a Codi who was…playing with her feet? Lo and behold, the giggly artist wasn’t even laughing at Crissie’s expense, too focused on her own appendages to intentionally scare anyone. “C-Codi? You okay?” asked Crissie, confused by Codi’s abrupt change in behavior.

“Uh huhs! I okies!” said Codi before bellowing out another giggle. She turned to look at Crissie, her eyes centering in on the bulky, white diaper in her hands, “Ooooh! Is dat diapee fo me?! Gimme!” She reached up toward Crissie with grabby hands; a pure, unwavering smile laminated across her face.

TO BE CONTINUED…

« PREVIOUS l FIRST l NEXT »

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

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BeelzeDerBock BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

[rocoutlaststuff]

So I’ve got a request a Franco Barbi x reader where they were his lover from before he was captured but now they’ve ended up in the trials as a reagent (assuming they can even remember each other) maybe some angst/hurt/comfort as a imagine or one shot whatever would be better for you!! ♥️♥️♥️

One request coming up! I got carried away with this, and you've officially turned me into a bit of a Franco fan which I did not expect. That's what listening to dialogue for an hour straight will do to a person, I guess. Regardless, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Presently in the Past (Franco x Reader) [Requested]

🐑 ♡ I lost the footage to make a Franco gif, anyone wanna play to get it back ♡ 🐑

You can't remember anything about your past, but your past remembers you.

Explicit, Graphic Violence, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Trauma, Human Experiments, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Drug Use, Needles, Memory Loss, Angst, Hurt/Some Comfort, Blood, Violence, Death, Explicit Language, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Pet Names, Cuddling, Flashbacks, Oneshot, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 6,432

Disclaimer: Easterman's introduction to the trial, and the first paragraph of the story were written by Red Barrels. I recommend reading Barbi's comic first if you haven't already!

Thank you to an anonymous user for requesting this! This is very much my first time writing Franco - hope he's written well ♡

CIA ASSET AT A BAR SOUTH OF MIAMI CONFIRMED FRANCO BARBI'S INVOLVEMENT IN AGENCY ACTIVITY IN CUBA. FRANCO DEEPLY ENTWINED WITH EXPAT/COUNTER-REVOLUTONARY CUBAN COMMUNITY IN FLORIDA.

STATEMENT FROM LAST KNOWN FROM CUBAN-COUNTER REVOLUTIONARY ASSOCIATE CONFLICTS WITH CIA ASSET. FRANCO IS HINTED AT LEADING DOUBLE LIFE BETWEEN ROMANTIC INTEREST AND CAREER.

ATTEMPTING TO CONFIRM.

“Maybe he didn't expect someone to like him,” Clyde muttered. 

His attention hadn't left the shot of Wolf’s Milk that had been made for him. The mere thought of sickly sweet taste forced his insides to turn. Like the wild goose hunt he was on, he wasn’t about the forget it any time soon. And just when he thought he had some semblance of understanding, it had come out that Franco was attempting to hide his involvement with a potential lover. 

He had done a good job too, despite him running his mouth in supposed privacy.

Finding said lover was useful if they could, yet Clyde was close enough to Franco that he preferred the time and resources went towards his target. 

“You can say that again. Looking like that I'd give up, but that man… He's got tenacity. If you want to call it that, anyway.” The agent put down the freshly cleaned glass with a sigh, and he waved off a patron. 

“I can chase up that lead for our mystery friend if you need, but the shop’s closing soon, so it's best that you're leaving. Good luck finding your guy. Nasty piece of work that one.” 

Atropine. Benzedrine. Chloropromazine. LSD. Nitric acid. Glass. Knives. Needles. Drills. 

So many things had dowsed, punctured, and been absorbed by your skin.

If you could take stock of how much abuse your body had suffered, you would have died many times over. Yet the cocktail of drugs that flowed through your veins mixed with the very same abuse to create a near perfect blank slate. 

You knew who you were. You were one in the same with the person in the mirror. You shared your history with that reflection and no one else. 

Yet sometimes when you looked at yourself, you felt like someone else. It was only ever a brief flicker of emotion - a feeling that you replicated in the decor of your space - but you held onto it when you felt it. 

Hell, you encouraged it when you could. 

Waiting to go into a trial was not one of those times. 

Your focus remained on the reagent who sat in the lobby with you. Whereas you sat on one of open tables, he sat on the floor by the stairwell. His hands flit about his body which rocked back and forth from the repetitive tapping of his feet on the ground. The cries of other unfortunate souls beyond your rooms sent him further beneath the stairwell to the point that he was nothing but a shadowy figure. 

You suspected he was new.

It was a horrible fate for someone new to be stuck with you too. While the others took their sweet time waking up, you had checked every room. There were four of you in total still within your lobby. The other twelve had left to go to their own trials. So you were left to decide whether you asked the newcomer if he wanted to follow you into the depths of Hell. 

Doing trials alone was not the answer. It was rarely the answer in the facility, and the people you saw alone were alone for a reason. They scared you more than some of the freaks they released into the trials.

Your trio was one man short.

Yet you were experienced, and experience meant more pain.

“Hey,” you called out. 

A muffled yelp. 

“Hey, it's okay,” you soothed as you rose from your table. Each movement was slow, and you held up your hands. Before you even reached the stairs, you crouched to make yourself smaller to him, skirting your hand along the floor to steady yourself. 

“Who are you?” the stranger barked at you. His voice was fractured. It never settled on a pitch, nor could one emotion truly determine the tone.

Even in the darkness, enough light reached him to caress the edges of the tears that fell down his face. 

You told him your name then asked for his while you sat beside the stairwell. With your hands crossed over your knees, you hugged them tight and waited for him to respond. He eyed you from his hiding spot perfectly still as opposed to how he had been a few short seconds ago.

“I don’t remember-” he choked. “I don’t remember my name.” 

There was not much you could do except watch him repeat that statement over and over again in floods of tears. When he started to hyperventilate, you guided him with his breathing to the beat of your fellow reagents coming down the stairs. When they saw the scene, they agreed to take him with you. 

Sure, it took a lot of convincing to have him step into the shuttle with you, but he did.

And you gave him a nickname: Franco.

He seemed happy with it, and you were grateful to get the name out of your head. The others knew that was what you called the soft toy you kept on your bed, but you didn’t care. It was one of those silly things you fixated on - one that was better than some of the things other reagents found comfort in. 

Like cattle, you were herded into the chairs without any other thoughts about what you should have been doing. It was a routine. One that you explained to Franco. You warned him about the clamps on the chair. Then you warned him about the TV and the gas. 

How could you tell someone to brace for the torment you were about to endure though?

"You are the surgeon's knife, and where you meet flesh, blood and pain must follow. We are the surgeon's medicine, who regulate pain and death. Poison the supply of those who would ease pain, and we will let you out."

There were no words shared between the group, only the terrified whimpers of Franco beside you. He cried out at the images that manifested in the fog. The suffering was unique to the reagent, and you stared forwards in disgust with bile in your throat. It was impossible to drown out the sheer panic beside you. 

Instead, it became part of your nightmare. 

A woman staggered towards you. Her body was outlined in the needles that clothed her skin. They touched every part of her, bouncing to the irregular rhythm of her steps. She tripped, tumbled, and fell into your lap - your eyes shut in an instant to block out the sensation you knew wasn’t there. You told yourself that the weight that hit you wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real.

She wasn’t really there.

Franco’s cries were a white noise that tore through your skull like the nails that dug at your tattered slacks. It was too much. Unable to help your morbid curiosity, you allowed your eyelids to flutter open. 

The pulse that pounded within your chest threatened to cease. Tension gripped at your body, and a man held your legs with a similar zeal. Chipped nails belonging to the pasty skin sunk into you. Bloodshot eyes met yours, yet they didn’t seem to hold any hatred. They watched you with a warmth you hadn’t seen since you entered the facility and a smile to match.

You felt like you were looking in the mirror again. Familiarity swelled within your chest, and frustration compelled you to tears the second your wrists crashed against the metal restraints. 

He was gone in a blink. 

The shuttle stuttered and ground against the rails, coming to stop. You mustered up a brief smile for one of your fellow reagents at the concerned look she shot you. She still asked you if you were okay though while the other checked in with Franco. 

“I'm fine.” 

You were. If you didn't know why you were so upset by your vision then there was no reason why you couldn’t be fine. If anything you were good. Maybe even great. 

Despite the way your guts churned, and a dull ache beat against your head, you were exhilarated. 

You recognised that man. You didn't know who he was, but you recognised him, and he was a part of whoever you were before. 

He was your answer.

The first thing you noticed was the water. Amid the boxes and televisions, you were lost to the sound of water lapping against something. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed it too. 

“What is that?” your friend asked. There was no telling if he was talking to himself or not as he passed by you. Franco lingered by your side while your group headed to a nearby set of railings.

“I knew it!” your friend exclaimed. “It’s water. They got water in here.” He proceeded to laugh at the sight before him when he turned to see a pier extending beyond you. 

“Fuck - this is…” you watched as he looked around the walls plastered in the image of a distant city, and you noted the way his expression strained under the weight of his thoughts. “It’s too real.”

Nothing else was said. He continued onwards past the viscera not a few steps ahead of him. You allowed yourself the chance to peak over the railings, and the water seemed hypnotising in the way it calmed to near stillness. Something must have fallen in seconds prior to your arrival for it to have made a sound. 

You decided you weren’t going to stick around to find out what that something was.

Franco twitched when your body collided with his. He’d frozen. Fight or flight’s third sibling had no place in the trials, however, and you felt your heart sink at the sight of his vacant stare. You weren’t sure if he had clocked out for good already when he probably hadn’t seen a dead body up close yet.

A once over of his attire led you to almost regret bringing him along as you leant down to remove your shoes. The action caused Franco to return from the depths of his mind, and he watched you with intense focus. 

“Put these on,” you told him. 

With two shoes placed before him, he did so with ample tenderness. Maybe he'd suffered from splinters already. It was a thought that repulsed you given you now had no protection against that fate. 

“Thanks.” 

You nodded at him and took his hand to guide him along. 

“Ignore what you see. Focus on what we're doing,” you said. 

Enforcing this yourself, you closed yourself off to the world around you. It didn't matter that the wood bit at your soles, nor did it matter that blood that wasn't your own caressed every pinprick sized wound you endured down there. There was no face you made when you felt something compress under your weight and burst with a squelch. 

You continued - plain and simple.

There was little in the way of danger along the pier. Just a couple of stragglers that muttered to themselves. Nobody disturbed them. When you drew near the gate, things changed, and your steel willed determination waned at the sound of nearby pleading. 

“Salvatore Cargo,” you parroted from a sign in a bid to soothe yourself subconsciously. 

The pleading only grew louder as the gate was lifted. One by one, you slipped underneath to find the source of the cries. Two men hung above you like the countless decaying fish strung out to dry long ago. Except they were very much alive and terrified. 

Their fear was your own as you knew the sound likely drew attention, and sure enough a shoulder connected with you. 

So it began. 

Your friend collided with you to prevent an ex-pop from gutting you on long talons. You were forced back into a crate, and you acted on impulse. Around you, your friends scrambled to fend off the attacker. Franco froze once more. 

Taking his hand, you snatched a bottle from a shelf and launched it at the ex-pop to distract them. It gave your friends enough time to run, something that was feral and frenzied when lives were on the line. 

Your heart pumped. Unable to keep up with your pace, Franco staggered behind you. Directions and quick observations sounded out from your friends like gunfire. 

Without them, you would have missed the safe zone. 

You threw Franco into a slot and pushed your way into another. As the click resounded, you nearly fell out the other side. Franco knelt on all fours beside you, and you wrapped your hands around him to pull him up. There wasn't anything going through your head as you dragged him to his feet towards the nearest desk.

All you wanted was for him to be okay. You pulled him down into the cramped space beneath the desk on instinct. He was hyperventilating again. The sounds of movement around you let you know that the others were on their way upstairs. 

Meanwhile, you held Franco close to your side. 

Each shudder of his body shook your own. ‘Calm’ wasn’t exactly the state you could describe him falling into, but he fell silent soon enough. It was just in time for you to catch the latest disturbances upstairs. 

A voice different to your friends sounded over the now frantic cries of the hung men. The first gunshot made Franco smack his head against the table in fright. The second was cause for concern as you realised that you had in fact heard a gun. 

The screams were silenced, and the voice was too muffled for you to make out what was being said. 

It belonged to a man. That much you knew.

You peered over the table to survey the scene. The safe zone was still in tact. The lockers beside you didn’t seem disturbed, and the partition was still up. A third and fourth gunshot rung out, however. 

Whatever was happening wasn’t finished. 

The shill scrape of metal on metal filled you with dread - the partition nothing but a memory in the span of a second. You were being told to continue.

“Come on, hey. We’re going to make it through, but we need to move,” you told yourself as you grabbed Franco’s arm and pulled him from his hiding spot. Your friends all but fell down the stairs in their panic to tell you what you already knew: whoever was stuck in the trial with you had a gun.

It was a point of debate as you manourved through the environment towards the next stage of the trial. Even as you hauled pounds of drugs from a cart between one another - the gun outweighed any opinions or thoughts on your given task. How did you combat a gun? Could you take it from the unknown assailant? Were the ammo stashes anywhere?

Nothing useful came of your frantic whispers to one another, and while you took time to search for resources, you decided to help Franco out. It changed the subject at least to something more productive. 

“Battery packs go in like this,” you explained, showing him how to work his ESOP. “As for this, if you ever step on a mine and there’s gas - or you’re gassed because it can happen, one puff. That’s all you need. It’ll take it all away.” 

You snatched a brick for safekeeping, but no explanation was needed for Franco. He understood its use the second it was in your hand. It seemed he learnt quick too, repeating back what you’d said to him on the way back to your rendezvous by the drug cart. 

“I’ve got this,” your friend said. He took out a thin tube you recognised all too well and placed the needle to the edge of his arm. It sunk beneath the surface. You were ready to move again.

Things were going smooth for such an advanced trial. 

That’s what you thought as the cart was heaved along at a brisk jog. You eyed the surrounding area from the boat to the fish market, and you agreed with your friend. It was getting very real. 

Too real, in fact. 

The stench of rotting fish and past reagents left you nauseous. 

“Right this way, please.” The mannequin pointed you in the direction of a weird tool, and the group immediately fell into disarray. 

“No - geez, another fucking thing we can’t deal with right now,” one of your friends hissed. The other picked up the unfamiliar device. She pressed the switch on the side, yet nothing happened.

“Symbol decoder, it says - look,” Franco managed, “aim it at the uh, at uh-” he trailed off as he waved his hand in the direction of yellow paint nearby. The first attempt didn’t work, but as you crammed around the corner, everything became clear. You had to line up the image. 

The device whirred as the roulette of potential combinations locked in far too slow for the sense of urgency you all felt. 

Eight, seven, four.

You were left with Franco as the other two rushed over to the vault and input the code. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next though. 

“It’s mine. It’s God damn mine, and I’ll skin, salt, and fuck any ruptured scumbag who tries to take it!”

You weren't in the trial. For a second too long, you were somewhere else. In your head, on a dock, you didn't fucking know. All you knew was that the voice stirred something within you. Somewhere - you'd heard it somewhere before. Where? You couldn't remember. Maybe you hadn't even recognised it, but the strength of the familiarity was enough to shake you. 

Somewhere. Someone. 

In the blank space of your head that you could feel, you knew he was there. It made you want to claw at your scalp and peel back the flesh. If you shattered your skull then everything would spill out. Or would you end up dying in a disappointing pool of black tar instead?

What if you forgot everything? 

“-you alright?” Franco asked, and your attention snapped towards him. 

What did you do to deserve to be taken away from everything you knew? 

You didn't say anything, nodding instead. A hand wrapped around yours, and he gave you the best smile anyone could muster in your circumstances. Fake and pained. 

“Let's go,” he said. You nodded again. 

Your friends caught up, and you were given an extra decoder. The space before you led to multiple darkened passageways. 

Cattle cars displayed the symbols you needed to find like some sort of messed up children's game, and you were left with Franco. It was decided as a team. You went left. They went right. With a mental note made of the symbol you needed, you beckoned to Franco to follow. 

So began your search.

All the while, you searched your mind for memories attached to that voice.

Franco gasped from the pain his night vision goggles caused him when he pulled them over his eyes. Thankfully, it was a pain you had forgotten, but you could sympathise with him. The section beside the train was incredibly narrow with no visibility. He had no choice but to wear them if he wanted to see.

You navigated around a corner with no luck finding a star. Then you navigated around another corner to find nothing useful either. But then a light from another cattle car caught your eye. Yellow paint lit up like fireworks the second you lifted your goggles.

The star was there. Part of it anyway. Both of you moved towards the part of the puzzle you had found, and you glanced around for its missing half. It had to be in front of you if needed to line them up, but where?

The answer was on a barrel. 

“Got it-” you breathed, holding up the decoder. It sprang to life, and you jolted when Franco bumped into you. 

You were going to ask if he was okay when he told you he had heard something. Against the buzz of the device, you had failed to listen for anything else. How could you when your attention was divided between some stupid star and fragments of your past? But when you focused you could hear it too. 

Breathing. It was heavy. Strained. It had to be him. Unless it was another ex-pop there was nobody else it could be.

He wasn’t getting any quieter either, and you looked back at the decoder to see it had stopped on one number. You waved it in front of you, desperate for it to work. You were so close to being able to leave - you could get it before whoever it was making their way towards you reached you.

They could turn and leave. It was a gamble that you were willing to take. 

If you stayed you could see him.

“Go hide-” you snapped, and Franco hesitated. “Go.” 

“Who is that?” That voice. You froze when Franco finally moved, and he brought you with him onto the car much to your dismay.

“My dad send you? Think I'm fucking scared of you?” Franco guided you to a barrel and instructed you to get inside. 

You did, albeit you were slow. The voice lulled you into a trance, and you wanted to know who it was. His face was all you needed. Just one peek. That was it. Fingertips rounding the edge of the barrel, you peered over the top to see Franco cross the train towards a barrel on the other side. 

He ran right past the opening and fell in unison with a bang. 

The sound of the gunshot continued to ring in your ears, and you stared in horror at Franco. He was alive -  a strained groan spilled from his lips as he rolled over to grip his leg. The bottoms he wore were red already, but the blood began to seep from between his fingers. 

“Found you, fuckin’ rat-” the voice cooed. “Try fuckin’ runnin’ now, cocksucker.” 

The stranger came into view. As he stepped into the light you could see everything. It was him. 

He was the man in your vision.

Your answer.

And still nothing made sense. Even as you took him in, you couldn't place him in your memory. But you could see the situation was dire. 

“Gonna cry? What a fuckin’ coward,” the man said, and you shot up from the barrel. With a blind rig, you weren't much use, but the brick in your pocket was. 

“Franco - move!” you cried out. Both men looked at you, and you launched the brick at the stranger. 

It was a perfect shot. 

“Shit - my fuckin’ head!” 

You leapt from the barrel and almost careened over with it as Franco threw himself to his feet. He cried as he did - falling down when he tried to make the jump from the car. 

When you landed beside him, you didn't get very far. A hand snatched at your neck, and your body was pulled back against the car floor behind you. 

“Must be one of those roaches - the fuck do you think you are usin’ my name like that? You-”

He was Franco.

You let out a whimper at the sensation of your spine being pulled against the car's floor and upwards. As if it couldn't get any worse, a gun pressed to one side of your head, and a face the other. The proximity forced you into stillness at the feel of the real Franco’s breath against your ear. 

“Ain't no fuckin’ way,” he huffed beside you, and you looked at the Franco on the floor who was trying to crawl beneath the car.  

“One of a God damn kind,” your assailant said. 

The aggressiveness he held in his voice shifted into something more joyous. He carried an excitable air around him as he let go of your neck, and he jumped from the train. The mood was shattered when he landed on an injured leg, and the shriek that erupted from beneath the train must have been heard trial wide. 

“Shut your whore mouth!” 

What were you meant to do? 

As two shots fired off into the Franco beneath the train, you were faced with the Franco who had inspired the nickname. And he had killed a man. There was nothing else you could have done but run. You were a credit to your own survival as you did, but you mourned two losses. 

One of which tailed after you.

“Where do you think you’re goin’? Are we playin’ games? Kiss and chase?” 

You sped towards the drug cart at breakneck speed. It seemed Franco had a hard time keeping up with you as his breathing became more laboured. He shouted after you and began to talk to himself when he lost sight of you.

There wasn’t any time for you to explain as you crashed into your friends. 

“Did you get the drugs?” one of them asked, and everything came crashing down around you. They asked about Franco. You felt yourself slipping as the thoughts struggled to form on your tongue.

“Gone, no - he’s gone. Franco got him.”

“What do you mean Franco got Franco?” You didn’t have a response to the question as you fumbled for anything. Each word that unceremoniously left your mouth felt like chewing on dirt. Franco killed Franco. Franco was the name of the ex-pop they had seen. 

The silence that fell after you finished spoke volumes. 

You could see it in their body language. The way that they didn’t move, yet their eyes danced across you. Muscles tightened like coils ready to spring. They didn’t say anything, but you felt their judgement. 

While you tried to convince yourself it was just guilt, you knew why they would take suspicion with you.

You understood why. 

“C’mon out, orsacchiotto, I wanna make sure it’s really you,” Franco called out. His tone was playful despite the weasely undertone of something else that dripped through. Whatever it was was primal. “You got more friends you want to introduce me too? I’ve somethin’ for ‘em too.” 

A metallic bang erupted from one of the trains as if something hit a wall, and you flinched. 

“I know where the code thing is, I got one of the numbers before Franco appeared - I can lead you to-” you were cut off by a hand against your mouth. Your friend had lunged forwards and covered it with his head turned. He let it slide down, and ran a hand over his own face, refusing to step back.

Then he gestured behind you. “Go on, lead the way.” 

You did - going back in the way you came. At the same time, it seemed Franco hadn’t given up his search, and his words damned you beyond the judgement you had already suffered. 

“D’ya remember those cold, cold nights when I used to keep you warm?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to remember.

“I’d give anythin’ if you’d come cuddle up to me. Baby’s lonely.” Whatever you were to him was more than a friend.

“I know what you want - zuccherino for my zuccherino - too bad it’s locked away. I thought your mommy taught you good manners… All you gotta say is please…” Yet there was a bite of hostility in his voice. 

“Don’tcha miss me?” 

You did. Deep down inside, despite the way your body screamed at you in all the confusion and pain, you missed him. 

You wanted to stop running.

With a shaky hand, you held the decoder up to the star symbol. 

Nine, three, zero.

You stared at the void between the floor and the cattle car knowing there was a fresh corpse there. Your friend went to the vault to open it up, and you waited beside the edge of the car. 

But it wasn’t silent.

Your name spilled from nearby. Close. It was close, yet you couldn’t see anything. The sound of shuffling and debris being pushed out the way forced you back into the cool steel of the cattle car. From the safety of your light, darkness opened up before you. So you let the goggles slide over your eyes. 

There, opposite you, was Franco. You were witness to him as he crawled through an opening in the wall on all fours. He was swift to his feet and quicker to train both barrels of his shotgun on you. A broad smile decorated his sunny expression, and laughter bubbled from his throat at your reaction to him.

“Bang!” he exclaimed. “Caught you.” 

There was movement inside of the car.

“And another fuckin’ rat,” he muttered. “Am I not enough? You gotta bring these dumb fuckin’ fucks into my work? My house?” 

Your heart was in your throat, and the lack of sound from the train alerted you to the fact that your friend had stopped moving. He was playing it safe. He wasn’t going to leave you was he? He was going to leave you with Franco. 

Regardless of if your friendship still existed or not, you were going to try at the very least to let him do that.

You were fine. 

“Wait,” you blurted out. “I don’t remember Franco, I don’t remember anything at all.” He stopped dead in his tracks. You glanced at the way his finger toyed with the trigger on his shotgun, and then you met his eyes.

“I don’t remember anything at all,” you repeated as everything began to unwind into sadness. “They put this fucking thing on my head, and they force me to do things I don’t want to do.” 

You gripped at your night vision goggles, the bolts embedded in your skull. Franco’s head lolled to the side with narrowed eyes, and you had his full attention.

“Who?” he asked.

“Who what?” 

“Who the fuck is making you do anythin’? Is it those scumbags that are runnin’ around?” You shook your head. “Nobody fuckin’ tells you what to do. You’re not some fuckin’ whore…” 

Franco’s expression contorted as his fist tightened in on itself. He shook his head and strode over to the car. You watched as he slammd the butt of his shotgun against the train, cursing each time. Each sound sent shockwaves through your poor nervous system, and you felt feint from the amount of adrenaline that coursed through your body.

“Fuck!” Franco repeated. “Why the fuck is nothin’ makin’ sense today? Shit’s so confusin’. Give me strength, somebody.” The gun was pointed at you in a casual gesture far too dangerous for your liking.

“Baby’s got to put on his big boy pants. I’ll be comin’ back for you, oh, don’t you think I’ll forget, but first…” 

You couldn’t stop him from leaving. He hopped onto the train, and when he left it, it wasn’t long before you heard the gun go off.

Lupara. 

That was what he called it. You remembered.

Unable to control your tears, you let them stream down your face like you fell to the floor. When there was a scream from near the drug cart, you cried out louder in unison. Knees brought up to your chest, you buried yourself into your own makeshift darkness. 

Nothing could reassure you as your head pounded from the memories that tried to break through into your conscious mind. 

It hurt. All your friends were dead. 

And the man who murdered them came back to you with a spring in his step.

Apparently, one summer before Franco had to leave for Cuba, in the light of the rising sun you’d both gone to the docks together. Nobody else was really up at the time, and only the waves disturbed you both. Nothing had been planned, it was more of a spur of the moment thing, but you enjoyed it none the less according to him. 

He explained to you in great detail how you’d made plans together to get ice cream and spend the whole day lounging there. Nobody was going to move either of you unless you decided to go yourselves. It was something you wanted to do, and he was happy to oblige since you were willing to give him everything he wanted in return. 

You would hold his hand and drag him around to show him all the things you loved, and he would tell you that he loved you. 

Love was a word that felt like choking up sawdust when he said it. Love never worked out for him. It wasn’t his thing, but he said it anyway. He recounted how you were so innocent to him. 

He never told you how he pictured the shoreline coated in red. Intrusive thoughts flashed the image of you lying before him all mangled and pretty with your face stained in blood. You never needed to know because he couldn’t do it.

No, you were different. 

There was nothing but joy on your face as he’d followed you along that beach. It was hard for him to explain, but ever since you had settled into something together, he’d chased after that feeling of being wanted like he chased you along the sand. 

You humiliated him in your own way by making him think he truly belonged.

And you’d done it again.

Still in the same spot that you had fallen to beside the car, Franco sat with you. He waved his feet back and forth, swaying his body side to side while he looked at you. You hadn’t come out of your self imposed cocoon yet, but you had a single eye on him too.

Things had been ironed out to some degree. 

Obviously he’d asked you what you remembered before he told you a few bits about your past, and while you couldn’t be certain what was true or not, you wanted to believe him. At the point you were at, you prayed that it was true. Something about him soothed the ache in your head.

He was undeniably charismatic, and you weren’t going to deny the fact that you felt drawn to him. 

Then the important question of what you were doing in his territory with the others came up again. There was little he could have done to hide the irritation in his voice as he spoke about you being around them. He wanted to know why you were helping them. If you were anybody else he would have killed you, yet you had a chance to explain.

Franco understood to some extent, despite being frustrated.

He told you that he felt great - better than he’d ever been - but things were off. Seeing you made everything that much sweeter, yet that didn’t change the fact that he too was having issues with his memory.

Déjà vu he called it. It felt like the same shit everyday with different faces.

When you’d told him you were kept by faceless men in laboratory coats and given orders, he mentioned he’d seen some people like that behind glass. It was clear the worlds you were living in were very different. To him, the docks were real. To you, it was an experiment.

Things had gone quiet after that while you pieced together the shards of your past until a hand found your arm. Fingers walked up it and poked at your cheekbone. Franco shifted himself into a kneeling position with his body turned to you, and you lifted your head at the way he searched your soul with his gaze. Without even speaking, he was searching for something in you.

“Not gonna leave, are you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave, but I’ve never tried to stay in a trial before without doing what I’m told. What if they come to get me?” 

“Then they’re fuckin’ dead. Think they got a chance against my Lupara?” Each word was spat with pride like he could see them cold already. “Hey-”

Your pulse quickened as Franco pulled your arm from your leg. He supported it in between his hands, and he brought your knuckles to his mouth.

“You’d never leave me,” he hummed against your skin. “No - no, I knew you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t abandon your baby.” 

The contact left you flustered as your mind raced over the implications that you were very much his old partner. You didn’t even know if you’d ever separated. Most likely not, if he was going to treat you the way he was. It was strange to feel his kiss against your hand. Not unwelcome, but it was strange.

As he told you that he wanted to feel your arms around him, you crossed your legs and opened yourself up to him. Surreal was an understatement to have him crawl onto your lap without the need to be prompted, and you were delicate in the way you pulled him towards you. 

When his head rested on your shoulder, you decided to stop trying to process everything. 

“Back where I belong…” you heard Franco sigh. 

The weight of his body kept you grounded in the moment. An overwhelming sense of comfort washed over you at the contact - something you had sorely missed - and you let it happen. There was so much you wanted to ask Franco, but for the time being, you savoured the affection he showed you.

He made everything feel better.

“Well shit,” Clyde sighed as he placed down Easterman’s report. He bet Avellanos was going to have a field day with the information they had been given. It was a small world, but even he hadn’t been able to track down Fraco’s supposed partner in the height of his investigation. 

Turns out all they had to do was pick up people from the streets, pluck them from their homes, and they’d get lucky.

THE PREMATURE END OF THE TRAIL WHICH RESULTED IN THE DEATH OF THREE REAGENTS WAS BOTH DUE TO FRANCO’S OWN AGGRESSION AND THE NATURAL FLOW OF THE TRIAL. YET THERE WAS A CATALYST. 

WE FOUND HIS OLD FLAME. THE FOURTH REAGENT BEING FRANCO’S ROMANTIC PARTNER CAME AS QUITE A SURPRISE, AND I THOUGHT YOU’D BE INTERESTED IN SEEING OUR FRIEND IN THE FLESH. I HAVE RECONSIDERED THEIR POSITION AS REAGENT MOVING FORWARDS, BUT WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO DISCUSS THESE OPTIONS FACE TO FACE. 

UNTIL THEN, FRANCO AND THE REAGENT HAVE BEEN SEPARATED.

[runnning-outof-time]

Evie not taking after her uncle Arthur and being math wiz lol

if you have the time can you talk a little bit about the girls personalities for some girl!dad lore?

Thank you so much for sending this ask in, anon!! ☺️ like I said in my previous answer - seeing this in my inbox made my day!! I appreciate your interest in my stories!

I had to read the parts that I’ve shared of this lovely family so that I could get a reminder of the girls and what I’ve written for them already.

I’ve added some insight into their personalities below the cut!

Theadora Rose Shelby “Thea”

Thea’s a ray of sunshine

She also embraces the ‘oldest child’/‘big sister’ role and embodies it beautifully — she loves her little sisters

She loves nature (hence where Juniper received her name) and enjoys spending time outside

She also has a tendency to dive completely into whatever it is that she finds she’s passionate about — also where Juniper got her name.

I think she’s also the most caring out of the three. Like if someone in her family’s upset, she’s going to stay with them and make sure that they’re going to be ok.

Kind of going off of the last one, Thea’s really pure — in the sense that she’s always seeing the good in everything. And that pureness lasts for a while; throughout all of her childhood years and up into her teens (which Tommy’s genuinely grateful for because he’s always worried about his line of work and exposing the girls to it).

I imagine her going on to do something good in the world … to inspire and advocate for change in some realm. … maybe she’d become a teacher so that she could make an impact on the next generation while also fighting for change that she wants to see in her community.

Evelina Marie Shelby “Evie”

Evie’s definitely the one who brings the sass and drama the most

But she’s also very much goofy and a trickster … she really takes after her uncle John

She’s also not afraid to let her true emotions be known — she wasn’t a fan of no longer being the baby of the family at first, and she made sure to let her mom and dad know that … but then she came around and is happy to have Juni.

Now she likes the ‘middle child’ role …. But she doesn’t conform to it completely (in the sense that she doesn’t just blend into the family dynamic) — which is where the sass comes in.

I imagine that she’s definitely the trickiest to handle growing up … from getting into stuff she’s not supposed to be getting into, to finding herself in situations that Tommy swears cuts years off of his life - he and (Y/N) have had the most talks about her out of all the daughters (and she was the first to have an actual boyfriend…regardless of what her father said).

But with that being said, she’s also smart…in every sense of the word. We saw an inkling of it in the very latest blurb (which the comment about Arthur made me giggle…she’s way better than her uncle at maths) — I definitely think that she’d be the daughter to score the highest in school.

Evie’s definitely going to hold some sort of position of power when she grows up — I’m not sure if timelines work out, but hell, she’d make them work because I could see her being some sort of lawyer, or in a position where she’s able to use her knowledge and wit to best an opposing side.

Juniper Anne Shelby “Juni”

Juni’s truly a ball of sunshine — like she’s Thea times 10.

She admires her big sisters too. They’re the world to her.

I’d imagine that she’s the daughter that falls in love with horses. Sure, Thea and Evie both ride, and have been riding their entire lives, but Juni is the first girl to really love the animal.

And she and Tommy really bond over that.

So I definitely see her as being the ‘daddy’s girl’ of the daughters. … so just when Tommy thinks that he’s finally got this girl dad thing down in the scheme of his daughters getting older and wanting to start families of their own (because yes, he allows that), his world gets rocked when Juni tells him that she’s found someone special — because that’s his little girl, and she’s not so little anymore.

With her love for animals - horses in particular - I see Juni being the daughter who grows up and works with animals as her livelihood. Maybe she has her own piece of property with like a rehab or training facility on it? And of course she keeps a few horses of her own, which Tommy is thrilled about. I’d imagine that there’s family rides that happen on her property almost weekly.

———

I’m sure I’ll think of more little tidbits about these ladies as I write more stories about them, but hopefully this is a good starting off point for a little more insight into who they are — and hopefully I didn’t leave out anything that I said in the stories already…if I did, don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll add it here!

If you’re new to the Girl Dad series, but you still read this post (firstly, thank you!) you can read their ongoing story HERE!

Thanks so much again for sending this lovely ask in! It was so fun thinking about these girls and diving deeper into who they are!! 🥰❤️

[sophietv]

Hey Sophie! I am personally a big lsk believer but I was wondering what you think of the argument that William Bowery is actually Dianna Agron? I’ve seen some theories floating around that it’s likely her as she’s super musical and apparently 1 (or perhaps more) of the WB tracks were recorded at Marcus Mumfords house who is in a band with her ex husband. I suppose it’s always entirely possible that Dianna could be WB and it not be indicative of something beyond a writing relationship/friendship. Especially if they are on good terms. Obviously I want to think WB is Karlie! But sometimes I just like to check my bias lol.

Hi!

Ok, so I did some digging just to be sure to answer all of it as best as I could, because I too need to sometimes check my bias.

I don't know if Taylor and Dianna are on good terms. They could totally be.

But beside the fact that I'm convinced William Bowery is Karlie (I'll give my reasons in a bit), I don't think the fact that Taylor recorded some songs at Marcus Mumfords' home studio means anything concerning William Bowery.

William Bowery has credits as Song Writter and not producer. Taylor wrote those songs at home and needed a studio to record so even if Dianna could have been there (High chances that she wasn't) the songs were already written, so she would have had credits as producer if anything.

Taylor said that she recorded Evermore at his studio. All of Folklore's vocals were recorded at her own home (Kitty Committee Studio) because of quarantine and she was still in quarantine in LA when she recorded Evermore. So how would Dianna have been able to help her write for Folklore too? Because William Bowery has credits on Folklore as well. Here's exactly what she said during LA N2 show about her recording at his studio: "I could not find a studio, essentially, and so Aaron was like, 'OK, let me call around and see if there's anyone who's cool and nice and generous and might be willing to offer up their home studio -- if you do the right amount of testing, you're totally locked down, you're fully quarantined," Swift shared. "So I was like 'Please, I really hope somebody comes through. And so he calls me up and he's like, 'I have really, really good news. Marcus Mumford said that you could record at his home studio." "First of all I'm so excited that he's saving us, because, without this trip, we couldn't have recorded -- five or six of the songs on evermore came from me getting in a car, driving six hours out into the country, past thousands of beautiful sheep, to Marcus Mumford's beautiful house where he has a studio. So, I got to do this." (X)

They were in the middle of the quarantine, hence why she was looking for a place to record since everything was closed. And as Jack said, she was fully quarantined at that point. Marcus Mumford's studio is in LA (X). Wich is a good thing, because Taylor was in LA during the Quarantine while writting Folklore and Evermore, she talks about it in her Musicians On Musicians interview with Rolling Stone. (X) Do you know who else was in LA during the quarantine?? Karlie! (X).

Dianna used to live in LA it's true, but she moved out and sold her house in 2016. Since then, she's been living in New York. So I don't see how it was possible for her to be in LA when Taylor was recording at her own house for Folklore or even for recording Evermore at Macus' studio when the reason Taylor could do it was because she was fully locked down.

And worth mentionning again, William Bowery is credited on Folklore too and has writting credits not Producer credits.

So for all those reasons, I don't think it makes sense to say that Dianna is William Bowery.

And now, there's so much that points at Karlie actually being William Bowery... more than just being exactly in the same city as Taylor during lockdown.

When Taylor wrote Folklore and recorded it directly from her home.

But this is already... a big Koincidences...

I did a thread on Twitter about why I think Karlie is William Bowery, it really needs to be updated though, so I might do a proper one on here.

Here (X)

And to add to all of it, there's all the very BIG Koincidences that Karlie did around the release of Folklore....

Posting herself dancing in a Cardigan 13 days before Folklore release.

Posting herself doing a re-do of Taylor's Lover Eye theory photoshoot with the daisy. 7 days before Folklore's release.

Posting herself in the forest the day before Folklore's release wich prompts a lot of medias to say that she was showing her support to Taylor with those posts.

Posting a video with a code saying "Easter Eggs" the same day

Posting hersels as Betty Crocker from a 2015 photoshoot, 7 days after Folklore's release and captionning "actually me all of quarantine".

Karlie liking a post by Martha Hunt in a Cardigan with the caption "Peter losing Wendy"

Kimby liking a Folklore meme

Exile being released as a single on Karlie's birthday (one of the track where William Bowery is credited)

Betty being also released as a single in August (the other song that William Bowery has co-written).

Derek doing a post about how he loves Cardigan...

And that's just the ones on the top of my head...

Will do a proper post soon-ish... needs to continue my Ultimate LSK Thread Of Koincidences before.

So yeah I definitly have bias... but with all of this. I can say with confidence that Dianna is not William Bowery and that there's a really really high probability of it being Karlie instead.

Hope this answer your question! Thank you for your ask!