#I've had a bad case of writer's block

[lesbianpepsi]

would it be a sin if i stayed?

pairing: ghostface!sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: you find out your girlfriend is hiding something from you

words: 3.120k

warnings: mentions of murders, gf!sam, knife, scream shenanigans, stab wounds, treating wounds, fear of cheating(?), swearing, bad writing

authors note: so it's been a minute huh, excuse the rusty writing i've been in pain and in a writers block

Everyone's entitled to their own secrets; there's nobody in the world that doesn't have at least one secret. 

Some people have small secrets such as not liking a certain food but saying they like to please the other person. Others don't have such sweet secrets.

The darkest secret you have is the fact you slit your ex's tire once after she cheated on you, it's not insanely dark or even cool, it's simply just a secret that you don't want people to know about.

Yet there's people in your life that hold such darker secrets, ones that could never be revealed to anyone; not even their most loyal loved ones. 

Unbeknownst to you that person is Sam Carpenter, your girlfriend of over a year.

—————

Me (17:29pm): i'll get started on dinner soon then?

Sammy<3 (17:32pm): Yes please. Hopefully I'll be done soon with my shift and can hopefully even help you a bit with the cooking! 👩‍🍳😊

Me (17:33pm): maybe i'll postpone for a bit then

Sammy<3 (17:33pm): No, start cooking. You need to eat and Derek is a bastard who won't let me off early anyways 😂😂

Me (17:34pm): fineeeee 

Me (17:34pm): see you soon then, love you <33

Sammy<3 (17:36pm): I love you too, Y/n ❤️

Me (18:12pm): i finished making dinnerrrr:)) 

Me (18:22pm): sammmm

Me (18:29pm): sam? 

Me (18:31pm): please answer me sam, where tf are you?? ik you finish your shift at six 

Me (19:06pm): Sam this isn't funny, please answer my calls.

You bite your bottom lip nervously as you reread over the messages hoping to see that small bubble pop up any second. 

Sure traffic was a reasonable reason to why Sam's late but she'd always message you after finishing her shift at work.

Sam's one of those people who never leaves the house without her phone being higher than 80%, meaning her phone being dead wouldn't explain it. She always made sure it had more than enough battery in case Tara or you called her and there was an emergency 

So why the fuck isn't Sam answering your texts? You can't help but worry after everything that's happened to the poor woman and her family with Ghostface. 

You've already tried calling her three times to no avail. Nervously you switch over to Tara's contact as your thumb hovers over the call button, debating whether you should ask her if she's seen Sam or not.

If Tara hasn't seen her and Sam is in fact just running incredibly late then you're just going to worry the younger Carpenter for no reason.

"Fuck." You mumbled to yourself as you lowered your thumb to dial Tara, deciding it's worth the risk.

Just as you're about to press down you hear the doorknob to your front door jangle, immediately you whip your head around to see Sam entering calmly.

You drop your phone and rush over to her throwing your arms around her desperately as you cling to her. 

Sam doesn't say anything as she slowly raises her hand to your back, rubbing it up and down slowly.

"Where were you, Sam? I thought something had happened." You say worriedly as you pull away staring into your eyes intently, noticing a glimmer in her eyes that you have never seen before. 

Her eyes looked darker, almost a lustful look in them. 

She sighed as she smiled apologetically. "Some girl puked all over the place so I had to clean it up so I wasn't done till six thirty, then my phone died so I couldn't text you."

You ponder for a second on the possibility of Sam's phone actually being dead since the messages and calls went through, meaning it would be impossible for her phone to be dead.

Biting your tongue you nod as you smile at Sam, just relieved to have her here. 

"Okay, glad you're safe then. I've made a plate for you so you just need to reheat it." Sam grins as she presses a quick kiss to your cheek making your ear burn just as they did the very first time they kissed you. 

"You're the best." She says and you chuckle giving a weak smirk. "I know right, the best girlfriend."

Sam pulls away from you as well, finally giving you a proper look of her. You tilt your head confused as you notice the baggy black hoodie she's wearing, practically devouring her and hiding her arms and upper body.

"You didn't leave wearing that this morning." You comment mindlessly as you grab the end of the sleeve, rolling your fingers around the soft texture.

Sam stiffens as she roughly pulls her arm away from your grip, crossing her arms over her chest. You frown at her abruptness. 

"It was in the trunk of my car." Sam replies dismissively with a wave of her hand before turning to enter your room. 

You remain where you stand a little frown toying on your lips. What was that about? You thought as you glanced at the doorway to your bedroom, the light being flickered on by Sam.

"I'm just gonna take a shower real quick then I can eat dinner and we can watch some movies?" You hear Sam yell from your room also hearing the erratic movement from her as you walk closer.

Leaning on the doorway you see Sam placing her phone, car keys and work badge on the dresser. 

"Want me to reheat your food for you?" You suggest with a smile. Sam nodded her head as she turned to face you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead this time as she whispered, "I love you so much." before passing you and locking herself in the bathroom. 

A few moments later you hear the loud sound of the shower water hitting the bottom of the tub before it gets muffled by Sam entering the shower.

Against your better judgement you glance back into the room where Sam's phone is kept, the desperate urge to check it gnawing at you. 

You didn't want to snoop through it, no, you just wanted to see if she was lying or not. Which you basically already knew she was. 

You glance back at the bathroom door before rushing into the room to look at Sam's phone.

Reaching the drawer you picked up her phone and to your horror the movement of you picking it up lights the screen up. 


Sam's phone wasn't dead.

She lied to you. 

Sam wouldn't cheat on you, right? No, Sam would never. She loves you too much for that. 

Right?

Shaking your head in hopes of getting rid of those thoughts you place Sam's phone back into its original position, staring at it before leaving the room to reheat Sam's plate of food.

You trust Sam with your life and more and don't believe she's cheating on you since she's already quite possessive and protective of you after Ghostface. 

After placing the plate into the microwave you move back into the living room, dropping down onto the couch with a sigh as you wrap your fingers around the TV remote, pressing the on button.

The TV started up and immediately you were introduced to the loud male voice of the news reporter. You pulled out your phone and didn't pay much attention till you heard him utter a line that made your blood run cold.

"-two male victims stabbed to death near Parker Street, the police have no lead suspects as of now but a CCTV footage has been leaked showing the brutal murder and the killer wearing the infamous Ghostface costume."

Your eyes widened as you slowly lowered your phone, pushing yourself up the couch as you straightened your posture.  

Ghostface is back? It doesn't help that Parker street, that's the street where the bar Sam works at is at. 

"Sam!" You yelled and panicked as your eyes remained focused on the screen.

You could hear the shower stopping before moments later the door the bathroom being thrown opened and Sam rushes into the living room soaking wet with a towel wrapped around her body.

"What's wrong?" Your girlfriend asked as she moved to your side, holding your face with a possessive grip as she turned it to the side to see if you were hurt. 

You shake your head making her let go and nod towards the TV, Sam takes your hint and turns to focus on the screen.

She's silent for a moment, her breathing eerily calm as her eyes meet with yours.

"Ghostface is gone, we don't have to worry." She says as her hand glides into yours. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion as this is a total 180 reaction to how she reacted last time when Tara's classmate was murdered, and it wasn't even confirmed it was Ghostface at that time.

"Sam, the person was literally wearing a Ghostface outfit and two people were murdered on the same block where you work! This cannot be a coincidence." You rush out as you look down at your phone where it lay on the couch.  "We have to call Tara, Mindy and Chad. I'm not letting you all go through this again." You say as you grab your phone but you're stopped by Sam's hand wrapping around your wrist.

Looking up at her confused you see a blank expression on her face, not a panicked look you expected to see. 

"This is not our Ghostface, Y/n, calm down, please." Sam replies, moving her hand to interlock with yours with a tight grip.

Your jaw slackens as the crease between your brows gets even bigger. 

"A dude in a Ghostface outfit killed two people near where you work, Sam!" You insist on trying to make Sam notice how dire this situation is.

She shakes her head as she shuffles a bit closer, the droplets falling off of her and a few dropping onto you. 

"My Ghostface doesn't do random public killing, this is very out of character. It's probably just some psycho who's using it as a disguise, Y/n. It's fine. I'm safe, Tara's safe, the twins are safe and you're safe." You're speechless at Sam's smooth words, never hearing her so calm and confident. 

Last year she threatened to move countries instantly when it wasn't even confirmed it was about them. 

You let out a humourless chuckle as you shake your head. "And what did Mindy say when Tara was acting like you right now last year? It's a bit too close to home." 

Sam shakes her own head as she flashes a smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "You trust me, don't you?" 

You let out a barely audible scoff as you nod your head at the question as if it was a stupid question to ask.

"With my life and more Sam." Sam's smile softens as she nods her head gently, as if knowing what you were going to say.

"So trust me on this, my love." She whispers, raising her wet hand to lay on your cheek lovingly. "Please." She adds in a whisper as her thumb runs up and down your cheek slowly. 

You maintain eye contact with Sam as you begin to feel yourself getting lost in her dark brown eyes, unconsciously nodding your head slowly.

Sighing you snap out of your trance as you smile weakly at her, squeezing your interlocked hands. 

"I trust you." 

—————

A few days have passed and the only person other than you who's showing concern over the murders is surprisingly Tara. The girl who was very adamant last year that this almost exact scenario wasn't related to them in any way.

You've been texting her non stop about your worries about the entire situation but you haven't said anything about your concerns about Sam. 

She lied to you, sure it was something very niche but with the timing of the murders; something just felt off. 

You have also noticed that Sam has been even more loving lately, not that she isn't always wonderful to you, but it's more than usual. 

You love the attention but you still can't help but feel that there's something wrong. 

It's a Saturday night and Sam's working the night shift again, you're not doing anything special so you decided to sleep in early. 

It's around two in the morning when you get awakened by a slam of the door, it immediately sprung you out of sleep since you've always been a light sleeper since the entire Ghostface incident. 

You rub your eyes as you slowly sit up, glancing around the room and notice Sam isn't in bed. 

Concern runs through your veins immediately as you push yourself off the bed to stand up, your feet hurting the cold floor as you move towards the door. Is it a complete dumb move to investigate the random loud noise? Yes, absolutely. But you can't help but think it's most likely Sam and maybe she's having another one of her attacks. 

"Sam?" You yell out softly as you open the door and glance around your small apartment, squinting your eyes to see better in the dark.

There's no sign of Sam but then you notice the light peeking through the bottom of the bathroom door. You definitely didn't leave the bathroom light on.

You head towards the bathroom door and go to open it but it's locked, you frown as your concern grows.

"Sam? Are you there?" You ask as you keep trying to unlock the door but to no use. 

A muffled grunt is heard through the door before you hear Sam's raspy voice. 

"Go back to bed, Y/n, I'll join you soon." Sam's muffled voice says as another low grunt is heard. That doesn't help your nerves at all.

You can feel your heart pick up a pace as you desperately keep trying to unlock the door.

"Open the door, Sam, please." You beg as you keep trying to open the door, shaking the doorknobs desperately. 

"No." Sam says sternly, making you shake your head at her stubbornness. "Sam if you don't unlock this door I swear I'll kick it down. Please open the door."

"No I-" Sam goes silent for a moment before continuing her words. "You can't see me like this, you'll leave me." 

"Sam I love you more than anything in this world, if you're hurt I want to see you and help you. Please." You say sincerely as you still your moments on trying to open the door, trying to show Sam how much you care for her. 

She doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity, your fear growing with each passing second as you swallow nervously. 

Then you hear it, the door unlocking but Sam doesn't open it for you. Immediately you throw the door open and scan your eyes to find Sam sitting on the edge of the bathtub wearing her usual grey tank top, tight black cargos and thick black boots with bruises and a singular stab wound on her arms.

Your breath hitches as your eyes widen dramatically, your fear about Ghostface attacking Sam again being confirmed. 

Sam refuses to make eye contact with you as she sloppily tries to patch herself up, wrapping a bandage around below her shoulder that's already staining with a ruby red shade.

"Let me help." You whisper as you move to stand in front of her knowing in the frenzied state Sam is in she wouldn't tend her wounds properly.

She finally looks up at you and you notice the look of pure fear in her eyes, it breaks your heart. 

Sam stiffly nods her head as she lets go of the dirty bandage and lets it fall gracefully onto the floor. 

You don't take notice of anything else around you as your entire focus is only on your bleeding girlfriend. 

As you focus on the slash below her shoulder you see that she's sterilised it and only needs help with bandaging it up.

You grab a new roll and gently hold onto her elbow for a grip as you begin to tightly wrap the bandage around her wound.

As you keep wrapping enough layers around your eye's unconsciously flicker over to the bathtub, and the moment you see the objects scattered inside you feel your heart drop.

A bloodied knife is peeking out through a thick pile of black which almost looks like a blanket but that isn't what catches your attention. The bloodied Ghostface mask thrown carelessly near what you presume is the cloak is what makes your heart come back to life and rapidly speeds up. 

Suddenly everything makes sense.

The lie about her phone being dead when it wasn't, coming home late and the very calm reaction to the murders.

Sam wasn't attacked by the Ghostface on the news; Sam is Ghostface. 

You can pull your eyes away from the hollow eyes of the Ghostface mask as you keep bandaging Sam's stab wound up, the feeling of shame making your throat tighten. 

Not ashamed of Sam but the fact you don't immediately want to run away. Call the cops or even scream. Instead you stand there as you treated her wound. 

"That's enough layers, Y/n." Sam's quiet voice breaks you out of your stare as you avert your eyes back to hers, stilling your hands as you lock with her brown eyes.

Oh those big brown eyes. 

Grief swirls around in her eyes as if she's already grieving your relationship; grieving her life. 

You take a deep breath as a shaky smile slowly forms on your lips making Sam's eyebrows scrunched together confused. 

"I'll never stop loving you." You whisper to her as you finish bandaging her wound up, dropping your hand from her elbow to place on her cheek. 

Sam leans into your touch laying her own cold hand over yours, looking up at you with a softer gleam in her eyes. 

"I'm not a bad person, I only hurt bad people I promise." Sam whispers in a gravelly voice. You feel some reassurance from that but what shocks you the most is the fact you're not sure if you wouldn't have minded if they were bad or not. 

Would it be a sin if you stayed with her? Probably. But killing is most definitely a bigger sin which only makes you think of one thing. 


You and her will still be together in the afterlife. 

"Let's go to bed, my love." You whisper as you offer Sam your free hand to take to help stand up. 

Sam stares at it for a moment before she complies and slides her hand into your hand, a small smile grazing her lips. 

Everyone has their secrets and who are you to share them with?

—————

authors note: i'd do anything for sam (i hate this so fucking much)

[txttletale]

Your discussions on AI art have been really interesting and changed my mind on it quite a bit, so thank you for that! I don’t think I’m interested in using it, but I feel much less threatened by it in the same way. That being said, I was wondering, how you felt about AI generated creative writing: not, like AI writing in the context of garbage listicles or academic essays, but like, people who generate short stories and then submit them to contests. Do you think it’s the same sort of situation as AI art? Do you think there’s a difference in ChatGPT vs mid journey? Legitimate curiosity here! I don’t quite have an opinion on this in the same way, and I’ve seen v little from folks about creative writing in particular vs generated academic essays/articles

i think that ai generated writing is also indisputably writing but it is mostly really really fucking awful writing for the same reason that most ai art is not good art -- that the large training sets and low 'temperature' of commercially available/mass market models mean that anything produced will be the most generic version of itself. i also think that narrative writing is very very poorly suited to LLM generation because it generally requires very basic internal logic which LLMs are famously bad at (i imagine you'd have similar problems trying to create something visual like a comic that requires consistent character or location design rather than the singular images that AI art is mostly used for). i think it's going to be a very long time before we see anything good long-form from an LLM, especially because it's just not a priority for the people making them.

ultimately though i think you could absolutely do some really cool stuff with AI generated text if you had a tighter training set and let it get a bit wild with it. i've really enjoyed a lot of AI writing for being funny, especially when it was being done with tools like botnik that involve more human curation but still have the ability to completely blindside you with choices -- i unironically think the botnik collegehumour sketch is funnier than anything human-written on the channel. & i think that means it could reliably be used, with similar levels of curation, to make some stuff that feels alien, or unsettling, or etheral, or horrifying, because those are somewhat adjacent to the surreal humour i think it excels at. i could absolutely see it being used in workflows -- one of my friends told me recently, essentially, "if i'm stuck with writer's block, i ask chatgpt what should happen next, it gives me a horrible idea, and i immediately think 'that's shit, and i can do much better' and start writing again" -- which is both very funny but i think presents a great use case as a 'rubber duck'.

but yea i think that if there's anything good to be found in AI-written fiction or poetry it's not going to come from chatGPT specifically, it's going to come from some locally hosted GPT model trained on a curated set of influences -- and will have to either be kind of incoherent or heavily curated into coherence.

that said the submission of AI-written stories to short story mags & such fucking blows -- not because it's "not writing" but because it's just bad writing that's very very easy to produce (as in, 'just tell chatGPT 'write a short story'-easy) -- which ofc isn't bad in and of itself but means that the already existing phenomenon of people cynically submitting awful garbage to literary mags that doesn't even meet the submission guidelines has been magnified immensely and editors are finding it hard to keep up. i think part of believing that generative writing and art are legitimate mediums is also believing they are and should be treated as though they are separate mediums -- i don't think that there's no skill in these disciplines (like, if someone managed to make writing with chatGPT that wasnt unreadably bad, i would be very fucking impressed!) but they're deeply different skills to the traditional artforms and so imo should be in general judged, presented, published etc. separately.

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[creedslove]

Hi Mari 👋

I've been having Javier Peña brainrot... and I need to tell someone 😭😭

So reader and javi work together, reader is married but her and javi become friends and get closer and closer until they have smex, she feels so guilty after and says they can't talk anymore and completely ignores him.

Then at a work function after a few drinks Javi tells her 'it's hurts me not to be able to talk to you', reader says 'you're a good looking man javi, you could talk to anyone of the girls here', javi says he doesn't want any of the girls here and 'you're all I think about' and then he walks off.

Later reader asks to talk to him and says did u mean what u said earlier? Then they kiss and have smex again basically.

ily 💋

Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, infidelity, marriage issues, javier peña who comes with his own warning ⚠️

A/N: I totally understand it bestie, Javi is like an addiction, he makes me feel like an animal in heat, I'm sorry it took me a while, I had a bit of a writer's block, but hopefully I'm back at writing again ❤️🫶

2.3k words

You had a good husband, you really did, amongst all your friends and all the stories one could call horror stories about what an awful man they decided to marry, you had been lucky. Michael was a kind and patient man, he treated you well, your parents liked him since you were both each other's college sweethearts and he wasn't bad looking at all. He might have not been the most handsome man you'd seen, nor the brightest and most fearless, he was safe, so safe it was kind of boring, and yet you knew you didn't have the right to feel that way, after all, Michael left his life behind to come to Colombia, during the most dangerous time to ever travel to that place all in order to support you and your career. You loved your husband, it had been so long you got used to him and that feeling, but you weren't so sure if loving and caring was the same as being in love with him. Passion was different, but before coming all the way to Colombia, facing danger and the excruciating heat on a daily basis, that was the kind of thought that didn't even cross your mind, however, it all changed when you met him.

Javier Peña.

At first you recall not actually liking him, you'd heard of his reputation of course - who hadn't to be honest?! - and you already had decided you didn't like him, you had this whole picture made up in your mind and you'd decided by yourself you wouldn't give that man the time of the day. It would've worked if you weren't so starstrucked the first time you met him. Even if you didn't show, you were so surprised it was almost at a shock level. Javier Peña was simply breathtaking. He was handsome, a singular kind of handsome, there was something about him, about his looks that drew women to him. There was something about his eyes, sad and glimmery, his side profile, something you had never paid attention to before, but suddenly you did, and his was just so attractive and those lips. The most kissable lips you'd ever seen. You couldn't believe that gorgeous man was the same obnoxious one you'd heard of since you began working at the office, you supposed it made sense for two main reasons: if he attracted women like a magnet there had to be a motive for it, besides, he was one of those cases of being it too good to be true. You remembered making a mental note to not get near him.

It would've been easier, if in addition of being the most handsome man you'd ever seen, Javier Peña wasn't also the nicest guy you'd ever met. He wasn't nice like your husband was typically the nice guy, whether that was a good thing or not; Javi was different, he was nice as in… sweet. Something you wouldn't really expect him to be after hearing about his reputation, but he was. Exclusively, he was sweet to you. He was kind, gentle and patient. He wouldn't be able to tell exactly why he was that soft on you, it wasn't simply an attraction - of course you were pretty and he would've made a move if he ever had a chance to -, but that wasn't his regular flirty self. There was more to it, he could feel it, he enjoyed your presence, your voice, the whiffs of perfume you left around he could've sworn it got stuck on his shirt which made him smell you on him even when he was home by himself.

He remembered seeing you for the first time; you were nervous, starting your new position in a new place, one where stress and tension simply ran loose, not knowing anyone there and yet you stroked a confident pose. He had scanned you up and down, enjoying what he was seeing, but when he lay eyes on your hands - a personal favorite - he saw the golden band and knew he should back off. You were married and he respected that no matter what.

Still, it seemed something was preventing the two of you from staying apart, as you and Javi simply hit off. He was nice and gentle and you were funny and pleasant, and those were very precious qualities in such a heavy work environment. It didn't take you both to become friends, and soon enough you were inseparable at work. You've had work friendships before, you weren't a stranger to it, but the fact that it did happen to you and Javi was unexpected, at the same time it felt you couldn't keep away. It wasn't a problem to be constantly around each other when you were at the office, but it was a problem when you couldn't keep your mind away from Javi when you were at home. Even if you tried not to think of him all the time, you still did it, often wondering if he was home or if he'd gone out, if he had female company or if he was having a calm night in just watching TV and eating takeout, if he thought of you outside work the same way you did.

The answer was yes, even if he didn't tell you that, he kept thinking of you. More like he kept torturing himself with the prospect of you and your husband living your casual married life; it was insane, he never really cared about marriages and commitments to that extent, but he couldn't help himself and think of you and your husband sleeping together, having meals together, going sightseeing on the weekends in order to get familiar to the city you were living in, things he knew it was normal for a married couple to do, so why did it bother him and above all, why did he closed his eyes and pictured himself instead of your husband?!

As much as Javier didn't want to dwell into it, the closeness you continued to straighten over the months fueled those mutual feelings more and more, and eventually you and Javi opened up on a personal level. He told you he'd left his young bride at the altar and that he carried that guilt with him for a decade, no matter how many times she assured him she'd forgiven him. And you finally admitted your marriage wasn't as perfect as many people assumed. It straightened your bond with Javi and the confessions quickly brought more subjects into the conversation, to the point you and Javi wouldn't go a day without having a conversation, you just needed each other's presence around and that dependency on each other led to the inevitable with Javier Peña: you slept with him.

It happened after the night Carrillo was killed; he was caught in a trap set by Escobar and it was by pure luck Javi wasn't among the dead body count. When you heard the news, you felt as if your heart had been ripped off your chest, the despair and the panic before the possibility of having lost Javier. You couldn't even bear the possibility of not seeing him again, not talking to him and when you stormed into his room and found him sat down drinking and looking the most miserable you'd ever seen. You didn't think twice, you ran to him, to his arms and kissed him.

From that kiss, things escalated to Javi fucking you on his desk, thrusting into you in a rough way, his groans and moans filling you up with his thick cock, his big hands slapping your ass occasionally and the way his lips called you cariño and it was enough for you to be lost in his touch, drowning into the wave of pleasure no man has ever made you feel. But just being railed on his desk wasn't enough, that was why after getting dressed in a sloppy way, Javi drove you to his place, he needed more of you, so he took you again, over and over, fucking you on his couch, his bed, and he would've done it plenty more if you hadn't said goodbye by pecking his lips and running home. It broke his heart to know you couldn't stay, he hadn't quenched the hunger he felt for you, quite the opposite, the desire he was feeling was almost inhuman, craving someone he knew he couldn't have, it gutted him.

You, on the other hand, found yourself so confused at everything that had happened; guilt, passion, lust, sadness, all of it overflowing you and causing a knot on your stomach, you felt you could throw up at any minute, especially the moment you faced your husband. How could you?!

At the same time, wondering how could you resist Javier?! He was irresistible and the only way out would be pretending nothing really happened between the two of you.

The next morning, you both showed up to work, dark circles under your eyes, sleepy face on his side and that odd hesitation in interacting. Suddenly, your natural bond with Javi seemed to be replaced by a growing awkwardness between you two. It was strange, being so connected to him, knowing him on a carnal level and yet simply acting as if you'd never met. Javi understood your silence even if it broke his heart each passing day watching you act as if he was invisible, he understood it. You were married, you were probably feeling guilty and regretful of everything that happened, Javi was a man with no strings attached, while you were a traditional woman, with your beliefs and a solid marriage. Maybe you weren't that in love with your husband anymore, but that didn't mean you didn't respect him, so truly, Javier understood it, which didn't change the fact it was so painful to see you daily, to have been able to touch you and no longer have access to it.

Day after day, he sat at his desk, remembering how your skin felt against his, how your body seemed to be a perfect match and thinking of how no women had compared to you since, but still, he kept his distance because you were distant, as much as it hurt him, he'd promised himself he would respect that. Day after day, week after week, you still wouldn't talk to him, pretend nothing happened, and even if he tried saying it didn't hurt, it really did. It was only when the team decided to go out for a drink, Javi saw the opportunity to talk to you. As you'd loosened up a bit from the drinks you had, to the relaxed environment of a bar, he waited patiently, purposely taking his time and drinking slowly, still keeping to himself in an attempt of not scaring you off, but having everything planned out so the only two people left at the table were you and him. As he lit up another cigarette, you knew what was coming, he was understanding and you appreciated that, but your problem with Javier was the addiction. After you tried him for the first time, you couldn't help but crave more of him, that forbidden fruit you desperately needed but couldn't have. He saw you noticed his plan and the way you began fumbling around your purse making sure you were about to leave, made his chest tighten in longing. He couldn't wait anymore, he had to at least talk to you, get a reaction from you, he wasn't a romantic man, but he deserved some closure at least.

“Don't go just yet, cariño” Javi's hand gripped your arm at the same time he blocked your way. He wasn't rough or pushy, he would rather die than make you uncomfortable, but he was showing you he wasn't going to let you go like that.

“I have to Javier, please let go”

“It's Javi for you, I've always been Javi, you know that… don't go, let's talk, it hurts me not to be able to talk to you…” he admitted showing you more weakness than he would like to, but he got caught up in the moment and at that point there was no use to try and hide his feelings.

“Javi, I-” you sighed and looked at him, it killed you to have to step away from him, you knew it sounded crazy to simply walk away from Javier, he was everything any woman could ever dream of, he was handsome, sweet, funny, and he was simply the best lover someone could ever have, you couldn't even imagine how many girls would kill to have the same chance you had, however, you had to be strong “Javi, you are handsome man, you could talk to any girl here…”

“I don't want to talk to any girl here, you're all I think about” he admitted pulling out his cigarette in the ashtray and looking at you one last time, before turning his back and walking away from you. He didn't know what else to do in order to show you you really belonged next to him.

•••

“Did you really mean that?!” You asked Javier as you didn't know where to put your hands, picking on your nail polish as he opened the door and looked at you up and down. He raised his eyebrow at you, which caused you to clear your throat and repeat your question “did you mean it, Javi? What you said? That I was the only one you wanted to talk to?”

His hand immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him, your body bumping against his, because he needed that, it seemed too good to be true, you, standing at his door, looking at him with your beautiful, lovely eyes.

“Of course, cariño, you're all I can think of, I need you, I crave your body, your lips, everything of you…” he whispered and kissed you. Javi didn't leave much space for hesitation, he didn't want to risk losing you for whatever reason. He didn't care about your husband nor your marriage, he wanted you and from that moment on, you were his.

____

[skylarsblue]

✦C.o.D Call Sign Inspo✦

(I've been having a bad writer's block, but, I do have some mini ideas that I can't flesh out. But, I know some people struggle with names/concepts for Y/N's/Characters. So! I'm giving them out for free in hopes it'll inspire something in someone so they don't go to waste!)

✧Somno; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's main trait is being a hyper insomniac. To the point they always seem tired, constantly consuming caffine, etc. But even if they're falling asleep where they're standing, they have incredibly fast reflexes. Could lead to some funny scenarios of finding them asleep in weird places, or, a cute concept (them only being able to sleep when they feel completely safe; ie: with one of the c.o.d characters)

✧Mama; Feminine. Pretty on the nose, but it could also be translated into a different language to match a country of origin. The concept is basically just...an aggressively maternal lieutenant/captain. Because I feel we don't have enough strong MILF's in this world, let alone in this fandom. This could also be used platonically because 141 specifically could use a mom type. Ghost & Gaz specifically.

✧Saint; Gender Neutral. Can be used for a character that's incredibly self sacrificing. Which would make for good fluff & good angst, plus, I think a lot of us can relate to feeling. Partially inspired by a random line I thought of - "If I die protecting you, that's far less frightening than you being gone when I could've protected you. Dying once for you is a peaceful passing, rather than dying every day you're not with me."

✧Salvadora/Salvador; Fem or Masc. Disclaimer; when I had this idea I imagined a woman. An alternative to the cartel story line in Las Almas. Y/N runs a civilian resistance against the cartel and has commandeered a village to keep citizens safe. It's basically a paradise in the crime ridden city. They've been providing sneaky support for Alejandro's men. (Honestly, this concept is pretty specific, and more detailed, and I might break it down more/write it on my own if possible)

✧Copycat/Mimic; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's incredibly skilled at mimicking voices. Whether in different accents or actual voices.

✧Mirage; Gender Neutral. Disclaimer; I imagined this also as a woman because I like powerful ladies. Similar to the one above but instead of just voices, they're just great at disguises in general & particularly sneaky. Like they "fade out of existence" if you look away at the wrong time.

✧Lynx; Gender Neutral. For a small, deceivingly cute looking character that's actually super deadly and quick. Do not trust the toe beans.

✧Nessie; Gender Neutral-Fem Lean. Pretty self explanatory. A character that's illusive and great in water. Bonus points for Scottish rep.

✧Sparks/Fuse; Gender Neutral. Just a fuckin' pyromaniac that can make their own bombs, super impressive and intricate ones. Thought of a scene where they're all in the heat of battle, low on ammo, and Y/N brings up randomly that they were a troublesome teen who almost had a criminal record. Price asks what the charge was and they just light something that doesn't look at all like a bomb, with a giant grin. "It was arson!!" And then they throw a fuckin' devastating bomb.

✧Iris; Gender Neutral. A character known for a very intense/intimidating stare. Inspired by those clips of people losing to Angelina Joline's femme fatal stare. Also, them being able to read a shocking amount about a person purely through eye contact.

✧Sage/Blister/Morphine/Plaster; Gender Neutral. All names for a potential medic!Y/N. (Plaster, for us Americans, is a word for bandaid in the UK. I know y'all prolly know that but just in case)

✧Bee; Gender Neutral. For a Y/N that's visibly smaller than those around them but packs a real hard punch. Also good if they're particularly good at physical combat. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

✧Sugarcube/Honey/Cupcake; Gender Neutral-Masc Lean. I think the idea of a big buff, visibly masculine, intimidating dude being named something like 'sugarcube' is super funny.

✧Lasso/Big Mac/Stallion; Masculine. Isn't it obvious? Big cowboy man who's aggressively American even if he's actually been a UK citizen for years.

✧Bessie/Cowgirl/Chick; Feminine. Once again, aggressively southern Y/N. But, for fem!y/ns.

✧Tex/Stars/Anthem; Gender Neutral. See above, but this time, neutral. Cause I'm about equality in this bitch.

✧Cobra/Mamba; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that specializes in poisons to kill enemies, as well as a character with any association with snakes. Could be interesting for Ghost to hear.

✧Doll/Dolly; Feminine. A more "spy type" for the classic femme fatal who gets intel through allure. If you've seen my two fic concept posts, this is the call sign I'd give to the Y/N in Price's concept.

✧Tech; Gender Neutral. Pretty basic, a character that's particularly tech-y. Good with computers and hacking.

✧Bunny/Hare; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that's small, but super fast & alert. Bonus if they got Hinata jumping powers.

✧Clover/Shamrock; Gender Neutral. Irish rep. Use this for a Y/N that is somehow the luckiest unlucky person ever. Constantly ending up in situations that are stressful/intense but making it out with barely a scratch. Can add some dissonance if they actually hate this call sign because it's not luck that gets them out of these situations, and instead is there skill.

[reedmurdock]

Figure You Out- Mattheo Riddle

A/N: This one shot is based off the song Figure you out by Voilá

Summary: Mattheo, your childhood friend, knows you better than anyone else including your new boyfriend.

POV: 1st/2nd/3rd  Gender: fem/GN/m

Warnings: Jealousy, bad bf (not Mattheo), me writing while I have writer' block 😅, also I changed the Rolling Stones to Måneskin bc  I love them

===========================================================================

I could love you with my eyes closed Kiss you with a blindfold Figure you out (mm mmh) I might hold you with my hands tied Show you I'm the right guy To figure you out

——|——

     Mattheo stared at you from across the Great Hall. You were seated beside your new boyfriend, some Ravenclaw boy whose name he couldn't remember. The boy was too caught up in his conversation with his friends that he didn't pay any mind to the hand you nudged him with to get his attention. Mattheo frowned when the boy just brushed you off and continued talking.

   "Is that git still not giving them attention?" Draco asked, sliding into the bench across from him. Mattheo shook his head still glaring daggers at the Ravenclaw boy that, in his opinion, didn't deserve an ounce of your care and love.

   "I know them better than anyone. If you put me in a room with a hundred other people with a blindfold and my hands tied, I could find them from their voice. Also, he got them tickets to a rap concert. They like Måneskin a lot better than rap." Mattheo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew he could treat you so much better. He'd known you forever.

——|——

   "Does he even give you any love?" Mattheo asked you while you guys were hanging out in the Slytherin common room. 

   "I mean he always invites me when he goes places with his friends. They're fun to be around I guess," you said not looking Mattheo in the eye and picking at the skin around your nails. Mattheo tilted your head up, giving you no other choice but to look at him.

   "That's not what I asked. I asked if he gave you love," he snapped though the anger was not directed at you but at your sad excuse for a boyfriend. Your silence told him all he needed to know.

——|——

   "I don't think this is working," your boyfriend said, "You seem to take a liking to the Riddle boy. You give him so much more attention than you do me." he nitpicked as if he was the victim to neglect. Instead of begging him not to break up or profusely apologizing like he thought you would, you countered his faults he found in you.

   "No. Ever since we started dating, you didn't give me an ounce of affection, in public or private. In fact you seemed embarrassed when I tried to hold your hand or touch you in any way around anyone you knew. Even when we were by ourselves, you pushed me away when I reached out. I tried to make this work even when I clearly saw it wouldn't. I'm done trying and I'm done with you!" you yelled and walked off leaving a very stunned Ravenclaw alone in the hallway. Mattheo approached him with a smirk on his face, "Didn't go how you expected huh?"

——|——

   Draco walk into the common room to see you and Mattheo curled up under a black fluffy blanket reading a book together. Although Mattheo was paying more attention to you reading rather than reading himself. Draco chuckled and made his way up to his dormitory happy for his friend.

   "You know, I bet if you put a blindfold on my I could still kiss you just the same. I could hold you with my hands tied," Mattheo said with a content smile on his face. He gently took the book and laced it on the table in front of you, pulled you closer to him, and pressed kisses all over your face until both of you were laughing and giggling like little kids. 

===========================================================================

A/N: AHHHHHH, I think this is one of my favourites. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry if it was a bit choppy, I've had a very bad case of writer's block. I hope after this I can post more. Love you guys ❤️❤️

Word count:710

[xoxo-author]

A book romance kind of thing

Hey ya'll! I'm back with some shitty writing! I have been having such writer's block when it comes to writing, especially my Jake Seresin series but I sat down to write and this little thing came out so! I've decided to expand my writing and start to write about all of the men I am obsessed with... Maybe that will help with the writer's block and I can get back to my Jake Seresin series! Anywho, enjoy!

Gif not mine, credit to owner

Noah Sebastian x FemReader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex(but like not really), my writing as always

Also please don’t steal my work…

"Drinking at one o'clock in the afternoon? You really have reached rockstar status!" 

Noah's head snaps up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before a smile ultimately takes up his whole face once he realizes that it was me.

I smile back as I start a little jog towards him, letting my bag drop once I am close enough and throw my arms around his neck. Noah, careful not to spill his drink, bends and tightly wraps his arms around my waist. 

Bending his knees a bit, Noah tightens his grip around my waist and lifts me off the floor before turning around to face the way he came and walking a few steps before sitting me down on a little wall ledge, "What're you doing here?" 

"There's this band called Bad Omens, people say they're cool so I thought I'd check them out." 

Noah shakes his head, "You wouldn't like their music."

I shrug before taking the cup from his hand and bringing it up to my lips, almost gagging as the amber liquid touched my tongue, "Oh my god, that's awful." 

Noah laughs, taking the cup from me and setting it to the side, placing his palms on the surface on either side of me, "No seriously, what're you doing here?" 

"Honestly?" 

He nods and I let out a sigh, beginning to play with my fingers that sat in my lap, "Jolly called me, he said that you seemed a little off. That you didn't seem like yourself, even when tour started. Jolly said that you wouldn't talk about it, always saying that nothing was wrong. The boys can't figure it out so Jolly asked if I knew but as far as I knew everything was fine. Jolly finally asked me if I would just come out to either cheer you up or fix what it is that's going on." I tilt my head as I look at him, "So tell me what's going on in that mind of yours."

Noah lets out a sigh before letting his head fall to my thighs, my hands automatically going to his hair. "It's so stupid but I cannot talk about it because if I do then I will be distracted the whole night and I'll be shit on stage." 

I had never seen Noah rattled before. He was always so calm and collected both on and off stage. It seemed like nothing could ever throw him off his game so whatever it was, must be big. 

Pulling my hands out of his hair, I place my hands on his shoulders and gently push him so he could stand up straight and look at me, "In that case, why don't we go put my bag away and then you take me to a merch stand so I can get a shirt and we can hang out until you have to go on? We can deal with this later." 

He nods his head and helps me down from the ledge, grabbing my bag as begin to walk towards their tour bus, "Don't you have a million Bad Omen shirts?" 

"Um, I don't have one from this tour!" 

                                                                              ****

I felt Noah shift behind me for what felt like the thousandth time. 

Don't get me wrong, tour buses aren't all that comfortable and I'm sure it's hard when the bed is barely big enough to fit someone's tall frame, but this bunk bed was so much more comfortable than previous ones. Now it could be because I have had a very long day but I all but passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

Noah lets out a sigh as he flops onto his back. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" 

I shake my head, momentarily forgetting that it was pitch black and he couldn't see, "No but will you tell me what's keep you awake? Is it what's throwing you off?" 

It was silent for a few minutes and I was beginning to think that he had, finally, fallen asleep, but he sighs, his raspy voice whispering in the dark, "It's a fucking dream." 

"What?" 

"The night before our first show I had this dream and now every time I close my eyes, even if it's just to fucking blink, I see it. I think about it constantly and I just can't get it out of my head long enough to focus. Fuck, even when I'm out on stage I think about it. "

I roll onto my stomach and push myself to rest on my forearms, "Was it a nightmare?" 

"It was a fucking sex dream. Well, it started off as a sex dream, with you and I, which whatever, I've had those multiple times, but then it morphed into something more.  One minute you and I were going at it, it was great by the way, and then it switched, and all of a sudden we were going on dates, getting married, having babies, growing old, being dumb as hell together."

Pushing my weight to one arm, I move my hand to grab his arm, "Noah it was just a dream." 

I could feel him shake his head, "No it wasn't. I thought that at first too but then I realized that it's what I want. It's like those cliche romance books you read where the two best friends fall in love. I fell in love with my best friend and that dream just sent me over the edge because I want that with you. I want to take you out, be able to hold your hand, and touch your butt in public. I want to do the absolute dumbest shit with you by my side. I want to ride out the rest of this music shit with you by my side. I want to get married and put so many babies in you. I want to grow old with you." 

Noah's hand comes in contact with my jaw, his thumb gently tracing over my skin, "I'm sorry if I've ruined everything." 

Shaking my head, I pushed myself up until I was half on his chest with my nose brushing his, "You didn't ruin anything." 

Noah takes a beat before letting out a puff of air, hand wrapping around the back of my neck and pulling me forward, smashing his lips against mine. 

It was odd at first, kissing your best friend of years, but that quickly faded into something more passionate.

Pulling apart, "I don't think we should have babies right now but why don't we practice making them?" 

Letting out a low chuckle, Noah situates me until I am on my back and he is resting in between my legs, "I like the sound of that." 

[olderthannetfic]

I think for me, one of the big stumbling blocks I had for a long time with understanding the problem with antis and how they act is that I came from the world of anime fandom, and I have seen all the time how the idea that you're expected to be tolerant and accepting to straight men who are really into lolicon or slavery isekai or whatever in the name of "sex positivity" does in fact lead into a lot of normalization of genuine creepy IRL behavior, and ignoring red flags for those. Because I've never met a man where doing a lot of apologetics for his interest in fictional 10-year-olds as a grown man or why you just need to understand that in this fictional culture sexual slavery is totally normal etc. didn't come along with some grosser attitudes about real women in girls - look at how a ton of the guys in the first group, for instance, are always trying to argue that "Japanese culture" is actually A-OK with relationships between young teens and grown adults and it's just your mean feminist American bias that's getting in your way. (None of that shit's true about Japan, btw.) Like if it were a purely fictional-preference thing, they wouldn't be saying that about real-world relationships as well.

But see, I have literally never seen those kinds of arguments from, say, women who write fanfiction about teen/adult relationships. To me the problem with a lot of anti behavior is not just that it's pro-censorship (which I oppose on principle, I don't think any of the stuff mentioned in the previous section should be censored, for instance, much as the prevalence of lolicon in anime squicks me out) and that it's puritanical and sex-negative, but also that it goes after the wrong people. There IS a huge creeper problem in fandom but it's largely not coming from the predominantly AFAB and queer world of fanfiction and shipping, most of whom are pretty good at separating fantasy from reality. Or their "fucked up" ship might not even be "their" fantasy but just thinking a particular character dynamic is really interesting and it happens to fit into some particular "problematic" broader dynamic. Sometimes it's specifically that it's fucked up that we like, that's what makes it interesting!

But I do get uncomfortable sometimes when people take the fact that censorship is wrong, harassing people for what they ship is wrong, what you like in fiction is not necessarily what you want in real relationships.... and take it to the extreme of "fiction has no impact on reality / there is never ANY connection between what gets you off in fiction vs. real life" (I do think it's rarely an exact 1:1, but for some people there is a connection), or feeling like you're never allowed to just privately judge people for what porn they're into or they talk about or post about when they go horny on main, or decide you don't particularly want to have, say, cis men who are super into loli as a part of your social circle.

Because I've seen cases where men use that, and other people being shamed for taking issue with how they talk about it because it's not "sex positive" or "you're just like an anti" etc., to raise the temperature on what kinds of creepy and red-flag behaviors are allowed. Or like, people start to get suspicious of things these guys are doing to real people, and question themselves because they worry they're just judging them for liking loli.

I mean, is it wrong to think that a guy who is really into underage girls AND talks a lot about how culture needs to "normalize" it AND makes people feel bad for being uncomfortable with that particular interest of his, is throwing up a lot of red flags for how he's likely to view real women and girls and IRL sexuality?

Once again, I've basically never seen cases where a fanfic writer (other than in some cis-man-heavy fandoms like MLP) who is into some "squicky" dynamic feels like they have to constantly talk about it even to people who are uncomfortable, or feels like they're not "accepted" in a space where they can't constantly bring it up. Maybe they exist. But then maybe it's fair to say that behavior is creepy in a way that just peacefully shipping [whatever "problematic" dynamic] and writing and reading fic for it is not.

But I've seen people be like "a lot of you act like 'well that behavior is only problematic when cis het white men do it' well no i think you're still sex-negative if you're against ANYBODY liking it" and like I'm sorry but power dynamics matter, and HOW you talk about this and to WHOM matters and I think it's just kind of ignorant to act like there isn't a huge difference between how a lot of cis men in anime fandom talk about this shit vs. other kinds of people in fanfic fandom, and that the former is very much informed by the fact that cis men and especially cis het men have cultural power that they are throwing around in the way they influence those spaces.

--

[autistichalsin]

I stand by what I said- the ending with Karlach DOES need reworking. You can adore someone's work and also go "that part was not ideal."

My criticism towards the IGN interview could not POSSIBLY MORE CLEARLY have been directed at the higher-ups and how they felt Halsin should have nothing more to do after breaking the Shadow Curse, as opposed to John who very clearly loves Halsin and very likely wanted to do more with him than that, if his updates to Halsin (like the platonic confession scene) are any indication. (The higher-ups also ignored what John DID write for Halsin besides Halsin hating the city, which was insulting to his hard work, IMHO)

ALSO, the "something went terribly wrong in the writer's room" quote (which let me say, I don't know whether to be creeped out or flattered that you can quote my posts verbatim) was SPECIFICALLY about writing Orin to target the lowest approval companion (something John had NO part in), which resulted in many players feeling no rush to get the kidnapped companion back- I specifically said it was a failure of writing for the kidnapping story. Again, John's only part of the kidnapping arc was writing Orin-as-Halsin's behavior, and THAT is something I've had nothing but praise for.

You do realize, right, that more than one thing can be possible at once? Like, you really and truly realize that you don't have to like EVERY writing decision made when you love someone's writing, and conversely, that disliking a few decisions DOESN'T mean you don't like/respect the writer at all? Isaac Asimov is my favorite writer of all time, but a few of his short stories were, in my opinion, real stinkers. That doesn't mean I don't love Isaac Asimov!!! It means that writers are human and make human mistakes when writing.

This ask was not just creepy and rude, it was downright wrong and operated on a child's understanding of criticism. I adore Halsin's writer and the work he did on Halsin. On this site, where he presumably can't see anything I write so it can't be "sycophancy", I still have spoken about how well-written Halsin's traumas and anxieties are, how compassionate and sweet he is, how there's so many brilliant character beats. It sounds to me like this ask is motivated by two things: you are jealous that I've corresponded with him on Twitter and you haven't, and you are angry that I criticized a few aspects of Halsin's arc/character which you feel makes me a "fake fan". (Either that, OR you're someone who hates Halsin's character/John's writing for hin, and is angry I don't hate those things.)

In any case, enjoy your block, get well soon, and stop being weird with random Tumblr users. (Also, "a piece of bread to a hungry homeless person" is a really bad metaphor. Who the fuck gives a homeless person a single piece of bread? Like are you just carrying around a baguette in your car in case you encounter a homeless person on the street corner?!)

[annaraebananawriter]

(Request) I Bet You Were the Best Brother

It's been a while since I posted a oneshot, so I hope this 5k one manages to make up for that.

As I've mentioned before, been going through a bit of a writer's block that is finally going away. Some it still lingers, but it is infinitely better. Feels like I can breathe again. So, everyone reading this that struggles with writer's block at the moment--know that it will go away. You will be able to write again. It's not a matter of if, only when. You will be able to write again.

Anyway, I don't have any other major life updates for you, so I guess I'll let you start reading now. Happy reading! Let me know what you thought!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: Dream and Nightmare (Who belong to Joku)

Warnings: A character losing their memory and swearing and I think that’s it. Let me know!

Summary: Ilike_cringe (Fri 14 Oct 2022): "here is a request :>. Could you make it that nightmare might have hit dream tooo hard in a fight that (bear with me ) Dream lost his memory ( if you could could you add more spice \^o^/)"

Word Count: 5395

~oOo~

Nightmare wanted there to be a note that the fight started off normal.

His gang showed up, causing some ruckus. He hung out in the background observing, soaking in the new misery like a sponge, keeping an eye out for the tell-tale sign that the Star Sanses had shown up. In today’s case, that ended up being an arrow flying at one of his boys, which barely got dodged, the blue glow disappearing as it left eyesight. Grinning, he had taken it as his cue to join in, grabbing Dream by the ankles as he notched another one, and throwing him across the space.

Not too hard, of course. He didn’t want his brother out of commission quite yet. That was always the fun part about the fight, seeing him defeated. It needs to be drawn out a bit, though, for it to be really satisfying.

Dream recovered from the toss quickly, though he was soaked head to toe—he had unintentionally tossed him into the river. Whoops. The annoyed look on his brother’s face made his grin widen even more. They quickly fell into their routine after that, trading blows and insults, slowly moving away from the others. Another toss had them entering the woods, which resulted in a lot of fallen trees, a clear indicator of where they’d gone.

A cliff came into view, with Dream’s back to it. Nightmare didn’t take much note of it at the time, too preoccupied—his brother had just gotten a pretty bad hit to the back of his skull, making him stumble. Pausing for a minute, he gave him some time to get his bearings back before attacking again, pushing him closer to the cliff edge.

So…technically, this whole thing could be considered his fault, but how was he supposed to know what would happen?

The cliff seemed perfectly safe in the normal dangerous way!

This means the fight was going great until the cliff crumbled under Dream’s feet, making him shriek, eyes widening, his bow dispersing as he pinwheeled backward. Nightmare froze, staring at the now absent spot with eyes equally as wide, tentacles raised to strike.

Then it went silent.

 “…shit,” he hissed, automatically turning around in case his brother teleported at the last second to safety. It wouldn’t be the first time, so it shouldn’t be the last time.

No one was there.

He waited.

Still no one.

Maybe Dream was just in shock, still picking himself up. Turning back, Nightmare stepped closer to the cliff, small rocks tumbling after the larger ones from his movements. If he leaned over, he could probably tell…ah, no. Nope, that was just a bunch of trees. His brother was probably under those trees. Probably just picking himself up.

He’ll return in no time.

Nightmare just had to wait.

So, he did.

For one minute. Then two. Then…honestly, he lost track of the minutes after that, glancing back and forth around the clearing, looking over his shoulder at the cliff like Dream would just suddenly appear, having climbed up for some stupid reason. Any minute now, the fight will be back on, continuing as usual…any minute now…

…any minute…

…any—

Okay, so.

Something was wrong.

Turning back to the cliff, he glared at the edge. It was its fault this was happening. Why did it decide to crumble now? Particularly when Dream was on it? Why?

Now his brother was somewhere below, dazed as hell, without the clear thinking necessary to teleport, or injured badly enough to be unconscious—and as soon as that thought popped into existence, he shoved it away, then took time to quell the rising panic in his soul.

No, no, that’s not possible. Dream’s far more durable than that. Sure, it’s a cliff, and cliff’s cause damage, even to immortal beings, but still. His brother could heal, so shouldn’t that work on himself, make him more…invulnerable, or something? Unless…he couldn’t actually heal himself and he’s just been assuming that he could this entire time…no, that couldn’t be possible. Nightmare’s pretty sure he’d remember that if it were the case.

So…what happened?

Maybe…maybe Dream was just staying down there for a while.

He’ll probably join again in a bit.

Yeah, that’s probably it. So, he should really go back and help his boys. Hey, maybe Dream’s already there! Maybe he went to his friends instead. Makes sense, makes sense…

He should go help his boys now, he’s been standing here too long.

And…he wasn’t moving.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Dream’s fine. He’s back at the main fight. It’s something that’s happened before. It should be something that happened here. It’s fine. He can go back. So…what kept him here, staring around like his brother would magically appear, a tight feeling in his chest that threatened to steal the air away from his non-existent lungs?

Maybe…maybe he should just go down there, check on Dream—

That was another thought pushed away. No, hell no. If he gave in to that though, if he went down there to check, now, after too much time has already passed for that to be considered just moving the fight along, that’d be…that’s cause his brother to hope. Hope that things could go back to the way things were before the apples. He can’t go through the painstaking steps needed to crush that hope, put off the last stubborn spark that remained until he was sure it wouldn’t create another flame. Not again.

Besides, he didn’t even care. Not that much. Sure, yeah, he cared somewhat, always would—that’s just naturally part of being a brother. But the majority of how much he cared was in the past, before everything was plucked off a tree in the form of a black apple and devoured. That care no longer exists, taken over by the need to win all these fights, making the scales tip in his direction.

It just…didn’t exist. He didn’t care.

(Some days, it was harder to convince himself of this fact than others.

This was one of them.)

He didn’t care, so he should so rejoin his boys, and get out of this AU.

This time, he teleported.

It was an easy win. Dream never came back.

When it came time to go home, Nightmare couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering away from his boys, who were celebrating as usual, over to the trees. In the direction of the cliff, even if he couldn’t see it from here.

The tight feeling in his chest squeezed and squeezed. His tentacles flicked nervously behind him. For some reason, he kept thinking that now was the moment his brother would appear, now was the moment he could stop all this silly, stupid worry, go back to being angry. And the longer he looked, the more that thought wavered and shook, gathering speed as it transformed into a tornado that threatened to consume all of his other priorities until he made sure Dream was okay. But the only way to do that was to go and check, and leaving now would just make the boys confused and worried, which he could not handle right now.

Besides, he was sure it was fine.

He got them all home before he could convince himself otherwise, before the urge to make sure was too overpowering. To make sure he was really distracted, he holed himself up in his office, pulling out some paperwork—which wasn’t even real paperwork, just a bunch of sudoku and word searches and other puzzles printed out to make it look like he was working on important stuff.

For the most part, it worked. Kept his mind too busy to think about what happened.

Then he got to one particular word search that—and he is not joking or exaggerating this part—had three words at the bottom for him to find, all in a row, that read: ‘Dream’, ‘injury’, and ‘concussion’. Isn’t that just the strangest collection of words you’ve ever seen? The surreal coincidence of the words made Nightmare stare down at the page for a minute, completely gobsmacked. Who the hell was writing these word searches, and why the fuck did they include these three specific words on the same one?

It was like a sign or something…

Sneering, Nightmare tore the word search up into tiny pieces, sitting back in his chair, spinning around and around. Trying very hard not to think about the three words. And how his brother never came back. And how the yelp he let out when he fell just fell silent and how he never bothered to check and—

And now he was thinking about it.

“Fuck.”

Growling to himself, he stopped spinning in his chair. Then, he promptly stood and teleported back to the AU.

Leaning over the cliff again, he teleported down. His brother wasn’t anywhere in the immediate proximity—though, why would he be? This was all just a waste of time—so he started walking around, ducking under some tree branches. When he fell, Dream would’ve had to have landed somewhere around here…though he still wasn’t sure why he was searching.

His brother was probably gone by now. His friends probably came to collect him.

Why did he think he’d find him here, lying on the ground as if nothing happened? As if he just decided to take an impromptu nap, in the snow and in wet clothes and…

Oh. Oh, shit.

That was actually Dream lying there in front of him.

Fuck.

Almost tripping over himself, Nightmare hurried over, falling to his knees beside his brother. His hands hovered in the air around him, unsure what to do. “Dream?” he called, hoping to wake him up. Nothing happened.

Dream didn’t move.

For a soul-stopping moment, Nightmare actually thought he might be dead. Panic swirled in his chest, choking him, until he remembered that if they were dead, their body would turn to dust. Presumably, anyway, since they had no real way of knowing that until they…y’know…actually died, but still. The thought allowed him to gather himself enough to Check his brother, make sure of it. It said he was fine, if missing a chunk of health.

Nightmare breathed out, hating how shaky it was. “Idiot, making me worry for nothing…” he muttered to himself, looking down at his brother, frowning. Shaking his shoulder, he raised his voice a bit, eager to wake him up, make sure he left to wherever, hopefully back to his friends, and get home himself before his boys wondered where he went off to. “Dream. Wake up.”

No response. Dream was still. Breathing—he double-checked, just to be sure—but still.

Frowning, he shook him again, rougher. Still nothing.

Even unconscious, his brother insisted on being annoying. Scowling, he sat back on his heels. “If you don’t wake up, I’m going to kick you.”

Nothing.

Welp. His hand was forced.

Standing, Nightmare kicked Dream in the side—not too hard, of course, he’s not a complete monster. Just enough that he woke up.

Which he did.

Finally.

Nightmare rolled his eye to himself, crossing his arms as he watched his brother groan, coming to. A hand half-raised to his head before stopping, eyes blinking open and squinting against the light. His eyelights were paler than normal, just a hair bigger, too. He could see the exact moment they focused in, his brother clocking that there’s someone standing above him, but Dream didn’t panic, didn’t seem to be anything more than confused.

Dream blinked again. “Hi.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone. Seriously? That’s it? He fought the urge to roll his eye again. “What are you still doing here?”

His brother seemed to get more confused. “What?”

Wondering if the fall knocked loose some brain cells, Nightmare scowled. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You know what. What are you still doing here? This is, like, the most uncomfortable spot to have a nap.” Without waiting for him to answer, he continued, waving a hand around. He couldn’t let the opportunity to mock him go by. “And why didn’t you rejoin the fight? I thought you had a duty to protect the positivity in the multiverse.”

“Um…” Dream blinked for a third time, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He laughed, nervously, like a reflex, and when he opened his eyes again, they were fuzzy again. “Sorry, you went a bit fast for me there. Could you repeat that?”

Ugh. Now he was just being difficult.

“You’re so annoying.” Nightmare said, stepping away. “Just get up and get out of here.”

Looking up at him, the words seemed to take a few minutes to sink in. Then, nodding, Dream tried to stand, movements jerky, as if he was figuring out how to move them for the first time again. When he stood, he wobbled, tilting over a bit before righting himself.

Nightmare realized he had stepped forward, ready to catch him should he fall, and retreated, tucking his hands back into his arms.

Damnit. He was slipping. He had to get out here, fast.

“I’m alright.” Dream said, clearly noticing his misstep. He was smiling. Nightmare had to look away before the sight made him feel warm inside. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Whatever,” Nightmare said in return, leaving it at that.

Still smiling, his brother shifted on his feet, looking down at his hands and clenching them into fists a couple of times. His gaze wandered back up to him, and then away, looking around them with a curious, still confused, look. It was almost like he was trying to figure out where he was, as if he wasn’t just in a fight here earlier.

He couldn’t have forgotten that fast, could he? And what was he still doing here?

Shouldn’t he be opening a portal by now?

“What are you waiting for?”

Snapping back to look at him, Dream didn’t seem to understand the question. “Huh?”

Waving a hand again, tentacles flicking behind him, Nightmare’s scowl deepened. Why the fuck was he acting so weird? “Open a portal already and go home. Your friends are probably worried sick by now.”

(He ignored the voice in his head that said he was starting to get worried, too.)

“Right, right.” Dream nodded, trying and failing to look like he knew what he was talking about. “A portal…see, um, I would do that…but, uh…” Looking around again, shifting some more, his smile turned sheepish. “Well, I don’t remember, exactly, how to do that.”

Nightmare did not return the smile, unamused. He just stared.

What the fuck? What was he playing at? What was the point in drawing all this out? Nostalgia? What did he get out of acting so weird? What was going on here?

“Do you think this is a fucking game?” Nightmare asked, voice slipping off into a growl. His tentacles moved restlessly. He was getting agitated now. He just wanted to go home, get back to his puzzles, and maybe sleep for a week. But no, he was here, playing along with this stupidness, unable to get a grasp on what was happening.

Dream looked alarmed, holding his hands up and shaking them furiously. “No! No—”

“Then why the fuck are you wasting my time? I come out here, in the middle of the evening, to make sure you’re good, and you decide to, what, pull a joke on me?” Unable to curb his irritation, he shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “Stars, I hate you. I’m reminded now why I don’t bother doing this for you. You never take it seriously.” Turning he started to walk away, hearing Dream stutter excuses behind him.

He didn’t want to hear any excuses. He was done. He was going home.

“It’s not—I’m not joking,” Dream called after him, footsteps crunching on the snow as he chased after him.

“Of course, you are!” Nightmare sighed, in annoyance or anger or both of them combined. He didn’t care anymore. “You always are!” He didn’t bother stopping or turning around. Just continued on. And then he remembered he didn’t have to walk away at all, could just make a portal out. Turning his annoyance to himself, he raised a hand to do so—

“I don’t remember that.”

—and stopped.

The statement struck the right chord, making something inside him fall to the pit of his stomach, pricking him uncomfortably. Slowly, he turned to face Dream again, paying more attention. “…what?”

“I—I don’t remember that,” Dream said, tone so genuine, eyes so wide and confused and even scared that it seemed to create a physical attack on his soul. Raising a hand, his brother held it to his head. “I thought if I waited a bit, I might remember something, but I don’t. It’s all just…blank. I don’t know anything you’re talking about, like the fight or my friends. I place any faces to them or names or anything.” He let his hand fall, shaking his head as he turned his gaze down to his feet, speaking softly. “I just don’t remember.”

The words pushed Nightmare out of the present, sending him spiraling into the black hole opening in his ribs, right where his soul is. They pressed in on him, reverberating, turning into a high pitch that buzzed inside him, threatening to cut off his breath.

He didn’t want to believe the words. In fact, he was trying his absolute best not to. Excuses flew through, nitpicking through the explanation and finding words that betrayed the real truth. He told himself over and over that no matter what, no matter how injured he got, Dream would never allow this to happen. His brother would hold onto himself with an iron grip, too desperate to let go, and the Multiverse would allow him to hold on because it was just another being that favored him. They would not let their favorite Guardian lose his precious memories, not for all the stories it brought them.

No, it just wasn’t possible. He was lying—though the reason why was unclear, and nothing could really justify it, he had to be lying. It was a trick, a ploy, maybe even a trap. Yes, that’s it. Any minute now, the other Star Sanses would jump out, pull their weapons, and Dream would drop this façade and go back to pleading with him and when it didn’t work, when Nightmare lashed out in anger, he would pull out his bow and—and—

It just---it had to be a trick.

It had to.

It…

His eyes didn’t look like he was lying, though.

No matter how long he searched, how close he looked, it was a blank sheet of gold. He found confusion, yes, he found anxiety—nothing new there—but he did not find any recognition. Hope and helplessness, but no relief in having someone he knew find him. Even now, as his brother looked around the clearing, he only saw curiosity, as if he hadn’t seen this place before, as if he had just arrived, as if he had just woken up and was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. The eyes came back to his, smiled at him, and—

And they were still blank.

A ghost.

The black hole in his ribs widened, pulling him in faster. Digging his heels in, he resisted with everything he had, swimming back out. He had to confirm this, he told himself, had to make sure this was the truth. If there was any chance he did remember, whether that be his friends or his title or Night—

Well, Nightmare just had to find it. He had to.

He heard himself speak before he was fully back in his body. “Did you hit your skull?”

“Ah, maybe?” Dream tilted his head, reaching around to the base of it before retracting quickly, wincing. “Yes. Yeah, I did.”

“Turn around.”

Obedient, Dream did, and Nightmare stepped closer, observing the crack. It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting—certainly not as big—but it was still enough to make bile climb up the back of his throat. Swallowing it down, he darted his gaze around it, taking in the gaping black hole, about the size of a cherry, thinner cracks webbing out from around it. It had blood crusted on the edges, and he was sure that if he took the time to look around the cliff, he’d find matching spots.

Absently reaching out, he traced along the wound with his fingers. Stars, how he wished he knew how to heal. This would be so much easier.

Dream pulled away after his fingers made contact, and he let his hand fall as he turned back, already apologizing. “Sorry! Sorry, that just…really hurt.” He laughed again, but it petered out as he caught sight of Nightmare’s face. “Oh…that bad of a sight, huh?”

“You said…” Nightmare swallowed again, ignoring those words. “You said you don’t remember anything?” The feeling in the pit of his stomach clenched.

“No.” Oblivious, Dream shook his head. “The latest memory I have is of you standing over me. Before that…” Tilting his head again, his brother thought about it, ultimately coming up with nothing. No spark in his eyes. “Nothing.” He looked regretful, like he wished he could be of more help. “Sorry.”

There he went again, apologizing.

Nightmare was going to have to have a talk with him about that. He can’t keep saying sorry for things that he didn’t need to say sorry for in the first place.

First, however, was dealing with—this.

“So…” He didn’t want to ask the next question. It burned in his throat, made his tongue curl in preparation, the words too ugly to even think about. Why did it need to be said? He already knew the answer to it. Why did he insist on asking it when he knew what was going to be said? He would rather them stand like this forever than ask it.

That was a risk, though. And he would really like to get some sleep tonight—even if that might be impossible the longer this sank in. They should really wrap this up soon.

That meant asking uncomfortable questions.

Swallowing himself down, Nightmare let the question go. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway. “You don’t remember me?” The words lingered in the air, an odd hint of emotion to them, something fragile and vulnerable.

(He knew the answer to why he wanted to ask this.

Somehow, somewhere inside him, there was still a need that maybe something would be remembered. If the longer they talked, the greater the chance the memories would just snap back into place. That the hollow feeling of having someone you grew up with look at you like one would a stranger would disappear, replaced by joy or anger or tears, anything else.

Inside, if nothing else, he needed there to be a chance he’d be remembered.)

It felt like hope.

“No.” Dream answered, the shaking of his head feeling like salt poured into open wounds. He seemed disappointed in himself, upset he couldn’t help. For him, this was failing at giving someone what they wanted.

For Nightmare, this was confirmation.

(It felt like denial.)

(There was a stinging in his chest. Where did it come from?)

“Where you someone important?”

Nightmare automatically bristled. “I—” He stopped himself, glaring down at the ground while clenching his jaw.

His instinct was to say that, of course he was. He was Dream’s brother. They grew up together. They were, still are, two halves of the same coin, two halves to the same balance. Despite everything, that had to mean something.

But that wasn’t the truth, was it?

Not anymore.

Maybe one time, before The Incident, before the villagers came to them. It was just the two of them, after all. And Mother, but she couldn’t really say much, or do anything beyond existing. Maybe then they were each other’s most important person. And maybe it would’ve stayed that way had everything not gone to shit.

But the point was, that was in the past.

Whatever they had, it was gone. In more ways than one now…

Inhaling, Nightmare looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That…depends on your definition of important.”

They had other people in their lives now. He had his gang, his boys. Though he often complained about their foolishness and called them idiots, not once had he ever wished he hadn’t met them. Dream, he knew, felt much the same about Ink and Blue. Neither of them would trade their friends for the world.

Even for each other.

“I was—” Nightmare sighed, rolling back his shoulders. “I’m your brother. Nightmare.” He forced himself to look back at Dream, even if the eye contact burned his soul with something uncomfortable. “Your name is Dream, by the way. In case you forgot that, too.”

“Cool!” Dream paused and gasped, beaming as he made the connection. “Our names match!”

“Yeah.” Nightmare said, forcing himself to smile back. “Yeah, they do.” Of course they did, he thought to himself. That’s the reason why they chose the names.

Brow furrowing, Dream tilted his head. “Wait, if we’re brothers, wouldn’t I just live with you, then?”

“What?” Nightmare felt himself frown in return. “Why do you think we’d live together?”

Strange, considering Dream didn’t even remember him.

(There was that stinging again.)

“I-I don’t know, I just…I have this feeling that brothers should be living together. That they need to live together. I don’t know why, but it’s a very strong feeling.” Dream raised a hand to his chest, hovering over where his soul would be. “When I think about you, um, that feeling gets all…strange.”

This caught his attention. “Strange?”

“Yeah.” Nodding slowly, Dream worked through it, finding what to call it. “I think it…I think it turns jealous, somehow.”

Nightmare stared.

Jealous…?

That couldn’t be right. Dream had to be reading it wrong.

There was nothing to be jealous about. His brother always had the perfect life. What more could he want?

If anything, he should be the one jealous. He’s the only one who deserves to be jealous. Jealous of the way people were always drawn to his brother over himself, the way people thought everything of the sun and nothing of the moon, even though they both shared the same light. It was his right to be envious, his right to look upon the past and view it with bitterness. It was his right to look at the present, now, when Dream still has his friends and his standing and still has everyone revolving around him.

At least he can find relief, find arrogance, in the fact that he found his own friends, his own group of people who looked up to him. It took years, it took work, but he found them.

He didn’t need Dream anymore.

(So, what if sometimes he looked at his brother and his friends and felt a longing to join them?

So, what if he found the way they laughed, the way they treated each other, a reminder that he’s done too many things to be treated like that again?

So, what if he’s tired of fighting all the time and wants to go back to how things were, while knowing that could never happen, while looking across the battlefield into golden eyes that reflected the same kind of feelings and—and…oh.

Oh.

Oh, they would never escape being peas in a pod, would they?)

“Hey, you mentioned my friends, though.” Dream said, brightening up again, looking around like they might just pop up. Not that he would recognize them. “Maybe we could find them and they could help me get home. What do you think of that?”

Maybe, Nightmare thought, looking away as well. He couldn’t lie, it would be nice to leave this place, and dump the responsibility of an amnesiac onto someone else. Especially the Guardians of the Multiverse, the coveted Star Sanses.

But something twisting in his stomach stopped him from agreeing.

He thought, all too suddenly, about how he came back hours later to his brother still lying in relatively the same spot he fell. Meaning Ink and Blue never came back to look for him after they retreated. You’d think, for monsters that claimed to be his best friends, they’d be out here the minute the battle was over, bringing Dream back home to be checked on.

Why should he trust his brother with those two, when they didn’t even search for him? They probably don’t even know he’s missing. They certainly don’t know he’s injured. He can’t help but wonder what their reactions would’ve been to this memory loss.

Too bad he won’t find out.

“I think they’re busy, actually.” Nightmare decided, making a split decision that he hoped wasn’t wrong. “And going to be busy for the week yet.”

 “Oh…”

Dream looked disappointed. Hurt.

The look on his face only solidified Nightmare’s decision. His tentacles curled in satisfaction. “You can come home with me, though. Stay for a bit.”

“Really?” Starting to brighten yet again, Dream seemed to hesitate, searching to make sure he was telling the truth.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.” Dream’s smile lit up the forest, and Nightmare turned himself away before he found himself getting soft because of it. Raising a hand to open the portal, he heard Dream chuckle behind him. “I gotta say, even though I don’t remember it, I bet you were the best brother ever.”

The words were said so confidently, so…normally…it made Nightmare freeze. The portal wobbled in front of him, but stayed open, and he blinked at it a couple of times before he turned back to his brother.

His mouth was dry, for a reason he couldn’t yet understand.

“What?”

“Well, I mean…it’s like you said. You came all this way, in the middle of the night, to check on me. You were worried. And then, when you found me, you stayed to wake me up, even though you technically already completed your goal. You didn’t just leave. And you checked my injury without me asking you to, and told me my name, and now you’re offering to let me stay at your place.”

Dream’s smile turned smaller, more vulnerable. “It just seems like a very nice thing to do.”

Nightmare’s gaze was frozen, locked onto that genuine, soft smile. The last sentence played on a loop, ringing inside his skull.

A very nice thing to do.

In any other situation, the suggestion would be laughable.

But like this…

(There was that stinging. Again. Why won’t it just go away?)

He thought back to the fight that happened earlier. How he reveled in the pain he caused, how much fun he had taunting his brother. How often he attacked him, without worry or caution. How eager he was to throw him around into trees, back him up into a cliff. He hadn’t even thought about what might happen, too giddy, too smug. All he wanted to do was put him in his place…he hadn’t even cared that he was bleeding…hadn’t even reached out to try and save him when the cliff crumbled…

How long had Dream laid there, in the snow, still in wet clothes?

What did he think as he watched Nightmare watch him fall?

How can that be called nice?

How can what happened during The Incident be called nice? What kind of brother turned his twin into stone, and left him in a dead AU all alone, knowing full well that he would one day return? What kind of brother picked an apple he was supposed to protect in the first place? What kind of brother was he?

Certainly not the kind this Dream was talking about…

“Right.” Nightmare said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He understood why this time. He wanted to throw up. “Thanks.”

Dream didn’t notice anything wrong. Still smiling away. As always. Always. “No problem!” Rocking back on his heels, he started to look around as his attention span waned with no portal to go through.

Still, Nightmare did not move to open it.

Instead, he found himself changing tracks. Jumping train from thinking about how bad of a brother he was, to how good of a brother Dream was.

Is.

Was.

Stars, this was so confusing…

“You weren’t that bad of a brother yourself.” Nightmare said, and this time the words were better tasting. At least this way, something true would be said here.

Dream looked back at him, surprised, with a spark of confusion. Then, even if he didn’t know everything Nightmare was talking about, he smiled, taking it as the compliment it was. “Aw, thanks.”

Nodding, Nightmare finally managed to open the portal, letting Dream go through first. He hesitated to follow, looking around the AU again. For some reason, he felt like he would still find his brother, memories and all, waiting for him if he looked hard enough. But he wouldn’t. He knew that.

At least, he had to accept that.

That stinging again…

Showing it down once again, Nightmare turned and went home.

(It’s only after Dream is settled into one of the guest bedrooms—stocked with fresh bedsheets and a fresh pair of clothes for the next day borrowed from Nightmare’s own closet—and he’s back in the safety of his office that he lets his composure finally break. Choking, he slides down his door, hand clasped over his mouth to keep as quiet as possible.

It’s only then that he lets himself cry.

Cry about how he never reached out to catch his brother when he first fell.

Cry about what his brother thought before splitting his skull on a rock.

Cry about the stranger left in his brother’s body.

Cry about everything.)

[ukulelevillainwrites]

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x reader

word count : 6.7k

warnings : language ig?

content : a lot more plot, i'm settling all the elements i need to move forward and write pt8 (which i've been fantasizing and imagining since day 1 lol), reader meets Lucy and the gang finally has a plan

taglist : i've lost track lol @demigoddess-of-ghosts @cassiopeiia24 @archiveoftara

note : again i'm sorry this took so long, the weeks keep getting busier and the time flies by faster and i got hit with writer's block too at some point i think idk but i'm on vacation in three weeks and it should help (i hope) anyway i hope you enjoy :)

She didn’t know if she was still dreaming or not when she heard hurried footsteps climbing the stairs. She could hardly move and even though her eyes were open, all she could see were blurry shadows and the greenish light from the ghost lamp outside. For a moment she thought the voice she heard calling her name was her mind still playing tricks on her but the hands that grabbed hers were definitely real and convinced her she was awake. Someone turned on the light, blinding her. She blinked to see Lockwood sitting next to her on her bed, clutching her hands and asking if she was okay. George entered the room practically running, holding a rapier he must have taken just in case.

“We heard you screaming, what happened?” He asked, seemingly out of breath.

“I-I uh… um” She cleared her throat. “I gotta…”

She made a move to get out of bed.

“Come, we’ll make you some tea.”

George helped her up. Lockwood didn’t let go of her hand until she was out of reach with a concerned look on his face. He didn’t say anything, he just kept his gaze fixated on her.

George supported her down the stairs, though she didn’t really need it. But she felt bad that she woke them up, so she let him. Lockwood was in front of them, looking back every once in a while, to make sure she was okay. She must have really scared them to have them acting this way. Or they cared more about her than she realized.

They got down to the kitchen and Lockwood put the kettle on. George brought a blanket from the library to cover her, but she was still sweating from her dream and needed fresh air more than anything.

“So…” George started as he settled into the chair next to her.

“I had a nightmare.”

“Yes, we gathered that much…” Lockwood spoke for the first time in a while. His voice was hoarse, his tone serious. She would have felt like she was being reprimanded if his eyes hadn’t been so filled with worry. It made her want to apologize profusely.

“Though it sounded like you were getting murdered.” George added.

A heavy silence fell over the room. The two boys stared at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

“I tend to have intense dreams.” y/n finally said. “It doesn’t happen every time, but they can be very realistic. And that girl… I keep seeing her, but she never screamed at me like that.” She looked into her cup, images of the girl screaming at her flashing before her eyes.

“What girl?”

“I keep seeing this girl, she’s always telling me to find her and to look for her but I never know what she means. To be honest I had forgotten about her. But tonight, she just screamed at me, it was so loud you have no idea!”

“Actually, we sort of have an idea…” George said, burying his head between his arms. He looked like he was about to fall back asleep.

“I didn’t know I was actually screaming I’m sorry…”

“That girl screaming at you was all it took to wake us up in the middle of the night?” He mumbled.

“It’s not just that, I was in this haunted warehouse with agents attempting to clear it, the case went wrong, horribly wrong it was awful. I couldn’t move, I tried to help but I couldn’t do anything, I just stood there and watched.”

“Do you know who she is?” Lockwood asked. It looked like her story had piqued his interest.

“I have no idea… and I don’t know why I need to find her…”

“Maybe it’s just a dream, it doesn’t have to be a premonition. Don’t overthink it.”

“That way we could go back to sleep...” George said, his eyes now closed.

“You should go back to bed, I’m fine really. Thanks for the tea. And for checking up on me. That was sweet of you.”

They both gave her a warm smile. It made her feel even more guilty that she woke them up.

“George really you should get upstairs, you’re barely awake.”

He made a poor attempt at a protest but soon gave up and went back to his room. Lockwood was yawning too.

“You should go too, I’ll go back to the attic in a bit.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Lockwood really I’m fine.”

“I don’t care I’m staying until you get back to sleep.”

She settled back into her chair, sipping her tea in silence. Lockwood was standing against the countertop, doing the same thing. She put her cup back onto the Thinking Cloth and tried to bring up her legs closer to her chest. The chair was too small and she bumped her knee into the table.

Lockwood took her mug and left the room without a word. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow him or if that was retribution for waking everyone up. She did anyway and found him in the library. He was settled on the couch, both their mugs resting on the coffee table beside it. She sat next to him and brought her legs up next to her, drawing her closer to him. She draped a blanket over her and took back her cup. Even though she was comfortable, her mind still hadn’t calmed down. She kept seeing images from her nightmare, the girl’s face screaming at her, the heavy doors closing on her teammates, sealing their fate. She was glad Lockwood stayed with her, his presence was comforting.

She finished her tea and put her mug down on the table.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks.” She said, sleepy-eyed.

“You should go back to bed, we have a lot to discuss tomorrow”

She stared at him wondering what he meant.

“Now that we’re officially involved in this whole Dufour mess we need to see how we’re going to clean it up.”

“Oh, right.”

“You look half asleep already, I’ll help you get back to the attic if you want.”

“No, don’t. I want to stay here, I don’t think I’d be able to fall back asleep in my room tonight.”

“Alright.” He hesitated. “I could… read to you if you’d like. It always helped me when I had nightmares as a kid.”

“I’m not a child!”

He was already picking a book from the bookshelf on the wall opposite the fireplace. He came back to settle next to her, bringing her closer and settling her head against his chest.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned with you it’s that sometimes it’s nice to have someone looking out for you.”

“Oh really?” She teased, but she was too exhausted to really give him a hard time.

“You have to ask for help sometimes.”

“Says the guy who couldn’t ask someone to tie his tie for him.”

He nudged her leg with his foot with a laugh. She settled against his chest to get more comfortable and when she finally stopped moving, he started reading in a low voice. The monotonous tone he kept rocked her to sleep. His arms kept her warm. She could feel his steady heartbeat beneath her fingers. She nodded off almost immediately.

When she woke up, the sun was already high, bathing the room in a soft glow. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling an even breath in her hair. Lockwood was still asleep, looking much more peaceful than she had ever seen him. His arms were wrapped around her, keeping her warm. It was more comfortable than the time she woke up with George on the other side of the sofa, probably because this time she was cuddling with her bedmate and not trying to share a couch too small for the both of them. It ended up being a relaxing night after all, the waking up part making up for the nightmare. They were breathing in unison, fitting perfectly in the tight space of the sofa. Her mind was still blurry, she wanted to fall asleep once more to stay in the peaceful state she was just in. She snuggled closer, her face in the crook of his neck as she hugged him tighter, when she realized what she was doing. She was hugging Lockwood, and he had his arms around her. And for the briefest moment she felt like he was hugging her back. Suddenly it all felt wrong. They were colleagues. He was her employer. And landlord. They had a job to do together. During her time at Fittes she never let herself get too close to her teammates, at least not that way. It had happened once or twice that she found herself attracted to one of her colleagues, but she always kept her distance, thinking of the disaster that could have happened if she had let her feelings take over. And yet here she was throwing caution to the wind and allowing herself to get closer than she had been with anyone in a long time. As hard as it was, she pulled away slowly, trying to get up without waking him. She could’ve sworn she felt him holding on to her, trying to pull her back, but once she was on her feet she saw him turn on his side, still asleep. Her imagination was playing tricks on her, giving her false hopes. She covered him with the blanket she had last night, studying his relaxed features. It was unfair how good he looked when he was sleeping. She forced herself to get into the kitchen before George could catch her staring.

It was a close call since he came down as the water started boiling in the kettle. He looked more awake than he had earlier. It eased her guilt knowing he had managed to get some rest.

“I didn’t hear you come up last night.” George remarked as he poured himself a cup.

“After I woke you up in the middle of the night I thought you’d be grateful for that.”

“I’m not complaining I’m just wondering if you got any sleep after that.”

“I did.” She smiled without adding anything, sipping her tea in silence.

“I didn’t hear Lockwood either.” He said innocently while stirring his tea. He didn’t sound like he was simply checking up on her anymore. His voice had an edge with the slightest hint of insinuation.

“You were so exhausted you could barely stand. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had slept through one of us falling down the stairs from the attic to the ground floor without opening an eye.”

“Actually, I had a hard time falling back asleep.” He took a sip looking up at the ceiling.

She didn’t answer. Whatever she could have said would have led to more teasing anyway. She blushed. He just smiled before offering her a biscuit. She didn’t get why he reacted that way. He was looking at her like she had something to hide. But he had fallen asleep with her on that same couch and it certainly hadn’t meant anything! Though, if she was honest with herself she was just annoyed that he could read her like an open book. She took a biscuit out of the box he was handing her, avoiding his knowing eyes and proud smirk.

“I’m guessing things are better between you two then…”

“I came up last night to tell you so, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before she could throw the nearest dish towel at him Lockwood came in. An awkward silence fell over the room. At least y/n felt the tension. Lockwood didn’t seem to notice and George was back to pretending like his biscuit was the most important thing in the world. He was right of course, things really were better between them. So much better that she wished she could wake up this way every morning.

She didn’t let herself think about it. Nothing good could come of this. Except of course the comfort she felt when she was in his arms, the butterflies in her stomach that danced to the song playing in her mind whenever he looked at her. She froze. She needed to clear her head and started to walk out of the kitchen. Maybe taking a shower and getting ready for the day would help.

When she came back down, she could hear the boys arguing. The debate didn’t sound heated, so they were probably discussing an upcoming case.

“I’m telling you it’s far more logical to do it this way!”

“You never listen to what I have to say!”

She pushed the door open.

“What’s this all about?”

“Ah, y/n I’m glad you’re back.” Lockwood said, walking towards her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I keep telling George that we should focus on discovering who is at the head of the whole relic operation but he won’t listen.”

“You’re the one not listening! We don’t know enough about the operation to aim so high right away.”

He slid his hand down to her arm. “What do you think?”

His touch was enough to make her mind go blank. “I- um... you’re catching me off guard. Could you walk me through it?”

“Well, I think that focusing on Dufour isn’t useful anymore. Since we know she isn’t in charge we should let her be and focus on whoever is behind this.”

“And I think we could still learn a lot from what she does and follow her.”

“Those are both… good points…” She was still very aware of Lockwood’s hand resting on her arm. She wasn’t used to this. He had been distant most of the time those past few weeks and the sudden change really disturbed her.

“Well, I know I’m right!”

“And I am too! You’d see that if you weren’t so stubborn.”

It really was the pot calling the kettle black. She tried not to laugh at their argument as she crossed her arms, not so subtly removing Lockwood’s hand form her arm.

“You should just go your separate ways then, meet up later today to debrief the info you both get?”

“Yes, I guess we could do that.” They both nodded. “What do you do then, y/n?” Lockwood asked her, crossing his arms.

“I’ll go with George!” She said, realizing it came out a little too loud. Lockwood shot her a confused glance. “I’m just… curious to see what she’s up to… is all.” She tried to justify.

Lockwood briefly frowned before approving their plan, telling them they should meet back at the house at 4pm.

---

“You jumped awfully fast at the chance to come with me on this stake out.” George commented.

“I’m always excited at the thought of working with you Georgie!”

He rolled his eyes at her. She wasn’t being subtle, and he let her know it.

“Plus, I’m genuinely curious to see what this bitch is up to.”

That got a laugh out of him.

They were heading towards the Fittes building to see if maybe they could spot their nemesis stepping out to run one of her fraudulent errands. As they got closer to their old employer’s offices, she noticed familiar faces. She spotted several agents she used to see down Fittes corridors. As they crossed the road, she passed a guy who used to be on her team. She waved politely but was met with a dark stare. She couldn’t remember anything she could have done to upset him, then realized it was probably the aftermath of that offensive column. Her pace quickened, fueled once more by anger. She was determined to see what that horrible woman was up to and most importantly to find out how to bring her down. She was so furious she could have just walked into her office to strangle her. Hopefully George grabbed her arm and led her down a street far enough to remain unseen. He kneeled down to get out a hat and a pair of sunglasses out of his bag.

“Put these on, we don’t want Dufour to recognize us.”

“What are these eggs for?” She asked as she tried on the sunglasses.

“They might come in handy if we spot her car!”

It would have been a great relief, but she didn’t have time to appreciate the mental image she got. Dufour was getting out of the Fittes building across the street, seemingly in a hurry, carrying a large duffel bag. And so, the stake out began.

They tried to keep enough distance to remain discreet and followed her for the next hour. They weren’t sure that following her would lead them somewhere useful or if they would learn anything new. The fact that their old supervisor kept walking without stopping didn’t help. y/n even started to think that she didn’t have a destination at all and was just messing with them. That was until they reached an imposing building located near Clerkenwell Road. As Dufour got closer to the glass doors at the entrance, she looked around as if to make sure no one saw her go in. y/n and George had to hide several times behind cars or newspaper stands to avoid getting caught. The first time she turned around y/n felt her heart sink as she pulled George down with her, crouching behind a parked car. But it was a good sign, it probably meant that she had something to hide. They remained far from the building to remain unseen. George eagerly wrote down the address in his notebook. She could tell how pleased he was with their discovery before he even turned to congratulate his plan, his smile getting wider with every letter he wrote. They waited for her to come back out. She took her time. When she finally emerged from the building an hour later, she didn’t carry the bag anymore. Whatever was in it had to be valuable. Dufour started walking back the way she had come. They ducked and slowly entered the nearest café.

Since it was only 2 and they were starving, they decided to take a break, unable to come back out without being seen anyway. They settled at a table far from the window. They ordered tea and some pastries to share and discussed different theories, trying to figure out what the woman could be up to.

“Given her track record it’s fair to assume that her bag had sources in it right?”

“I’m surprised Fittes didn’t bat an eyelash since she started her operation. I mean she can’t be that subtle…” His eyes lit up. “What if Fittes was involved?”

“Maybe…” She didn’t want to bring down his enthusiasm but she was already picturing him getting way too far from the matter at hand. “Let’s focus on bringing her down for now. If you’re still mad at Fittes after that we’ll see what we can do.” She said with a laugh.

“Right. Then we should try to see what this building is.”

“It’s the Silverpoint Organization building!” said a voice behind her that made her jump.

“Norrie? What are you doing here?”

“Hey George! Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I came to see my girlfriend, she just started her shift. But then I saw you two and I knew you had to be discussing something interesting given all the rumors these past few days… I couldn’t resist.”

“Actually, you could help us a lot!”

y/n greeted the girl as she sat down next to her. The last time she had seen them was at the furnaces. Apparently, the chat she had with George that night inspired her to do some investigating of her own. She had paid closer attention to the weird things she had noticed and caught a guy stealing a source red-handed. Not only did she get the source back to burn it but she also managed to get some information out of him. y/n was really impressed.

“So, I made him understand that he’d better tell me what he wanted to do with the source. That’s when he told me he was to bring it to this building across the street. I dug a little further and turns out it’s the Silverpoint Organization, whatever that is.”

“I’ll have to look into that.” George said while scribbling in his notebook. She didn’t think his smile could get any wider and yet it did.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were passing by!” called a voice behind them.

Norrie turned around to greet her girlfriend. The girl sat in front of her, saying something about having some time before the beginning of her shift. She had short wavy hair, auburn color, almond brown eyes. Her face was round and delicate. She looked friendly, but the warmth of her smile wasn’t enough to keep y/n from freezing. After all, that girl had woken her up in the middle of the night screaming just a few hours ago.

---

“And that’s why we should go after the money trail.”

Lockwood had been talking nonstop since he had walked through the door. He didn’t notice the heavy silence filling the living room. Or the haunted expression on y/n’s face.

“So, you somehow got your hands on an envelope supposedly used by that old man, who you think runs the operation, to pay a relic man who, again supposedly, brought him sources and that’s enough to convince you that you have a proof of the transactions?” George’s eyebrows were furrowed. Confusion filled his stare and his mouth was slightly agape. He looked baffled and not in a good way.

“That’s not all I found, didn’t you listen to what I just said?” Lockwood retorted, unfazed and still so sure of himself. “I have a reliable source telling me that they saw the guy take the money out of the envelope and it also has a strange code on it that has to link him back to wherever the money’s from. There must be a record of it somewhere. They wouldn’t bother writing such a long code on an envelope that gets left in the street if it didn’t have a purpose.”

“And you think this maze is worth getting lost in?”

“We won’t get lost! Like I told you I have contacts to help us out!”

“With relic men transactions? I’d love to meet them.” George still didn’t seem convinced.

“So, what do you think?” Lockwood asked with a triumphant smile, ignoring his friend’s objections.

“You don’t even care a little about what we discovered?”

He looked around the room, finally conceding them a glance. His smile fell as he looked into her eyes.

“What happened?”

It was George’s turn to talk restlessly about their day. Y/n looked at their exchange back and forth and listened to George tell Lockwood all about their successful stake out and their encounter with Norrie. There were times where she couldn’t focus on what they were saying, too caught up in the strange feeling that had followed her all the way home. Lucy had been lovely and tried to make her feel at ease even though y/n had stared at her like a deer caught in headlights for the better part of five minutes. They exchanged a few words about adapting to life in London and leaving agency work behind, though only partly for Norrie who wanted to do her best to help even without being back in the field. They never mentioned the incident that had led them here, just that they had left agency work. y/n knew why the girls had decided to change their lifestyle but nodded and smiled without ever referencing her dreams. She thought it would probably freak them out plus she didn’t want to bring up the horrible event that probably traumatized them in the first place. She tried to focus back on George’s explanations. He was excited to start researching the Silverpoint Organization. It was obvious that Lockwood was frustrated that his idea hadn’t gotten the attention he thought it would have. He sat back to let George talk with a barely hidden exasperated look on his face. But when he locked eyes with her his face slightly softened, allowing George to finish his theory.

“You’re awfully silent, y/n.” Lockwood said as he came to sit down next to her on the couch.

“We met Lucy today.”

She was met with a questioning stare.

“The girl from my dream.”

This triggered more frowning.

“As it turns out Norrie’s girlfriend Lucy is also the girl who woke me up screaming.”

George was still scribbling in his notebook. Lockwood didn’t say a word.

“I don’t really get it either. Hence the silence.”

He grabbed her hand in both of his. He was gentle, like her bones would break if he made any sudden movements.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think there’s a lot to talk about for now.” She said gently. She still didn’t know what to do with this and didn’t want to burden anyone. “But thank you…” She took back her hand, smoothed down her skirt and sat back, coincidently distancing herself from him. “How about we just get back to Dufour?”

“Right…” He flexed his hand while looking down. He looked back at her, his usual smirk curving his lips. “You can’t let it go, can you?”

“Remind me when you let go of your rivalry with Kipps?”

He smiled, pausing for a second. There was a complicity in the look they shared. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered their wings. She pushed the feeling down as much as she could, trying to win their staring match without blushing. She failed, obviously. Lockwood got up with a satisfied look on his face.

“So, what should we do? I mean… I think my lead is pretty solid…” He said looking up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s not. It’s numbers on a torn envelope Lockwood!” George retorted.

“What do you think y/n?”

“When it comes to instinct, you told me to always listen to George and I followed that rule religiously since I joined the agency.”

“Like following the rules is going to help us with your revenge plan…” He rolled his eyes. But he didn’t look offended or disappointed. He looked…proud?

“But fine it’s two against one anyway and I’m a fair leader. We’ll start with this organization and see what we find.”

George didn’t need more. He rushed back to his room, slamming the door with a renewed determination. They probably wouldn’t see him again until dinner. A silence fell over the room. Her mind wandered, going back to the girl haunting her nights. She had asked her to find her and she had. Now what? She didn’t feel relieved, and meeting that girl hadn’t felt like she was fulfilling some prophecy, accomplishing her fate in a high-pressure decisive moment. What if she had been too late? What if from the start she was supposed to help Lucy save her team? Maybe she was cursed with the guilt she had felt in her nightmare, forever unable to sleep soundly again.

A hand resting on her wrist brought her back to reality. Lockwood had sat back down next to her and was stroking his thumb back and forth on her skin in a soothing way.

“We’ll work it out.” He reassured her. “The answer could be in the extensive research George will make us do.” She looked at him unconvinced, but she appreciated his effort to make her feel better.

“He’s not gonna let us rest, is he?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“On the bright side, if I’m exhausted it might keep my mind off this.”

He held her hand tighter before letting go. She almost reached for his arm to get him to sit back down next to her. As he told her to get some rest before the busy day awaiting them, she ran back upstairs, her wrist still tingly.

The week that followed was in fact a busy one. They followed a strict schedule of intense research, rigorous preparation of their cases and efficient ghost clearing. The military-like organization was all George of course. He took the habit of waking them at 7:30 sharp by knocking repeatedly on their door until they were up to tell him to stop. They were among the first people present at the archives. Each day George assigned articles and newspaper respectively to Lockwood and her while he worked on the case they had that night. At noon they would switch, George looking over their research while they got familiar with the case before heading home to prep their bags for the evening. It was exhausting but she had to admit that it was yielding results. In just a week they had uncovered detailed information about the organization, how it was founded, who it was founded by, and why it was created in the first place. George had summed up the information both in their casebook and on the Thinking Cloth. Every morning as she drank her cup of tea she could read:

“Silverpoint organization – 1996 – founder Theodor Mullet of Mullet & Sons

TM eldest son and heir to M&S, created Sp Org to “further his father’s legacy” and protect agents against field injuries unrelated to ghost-lock

One fundraiser organized each year

Strong link to M&S rapier supplier

Funds from Fittes?

No financial records or official information available”

She couldn’t help feeling insulted that she slept so little only for their hard work to be summed up in a few lines. She didn’t complain however, at least she had helped find some of this information. Lockwood on the other hand was out of his depth. Research had never been the part he excelled at. He was too impatient and couldn’t sit still. By default, George took the lead but y/n could feel Lockwood’s pride taking a hit. If George, resident researcher of 35 Portland Row, was now in charge, what good was he? He tried his best to remain helpful by offering theories of his own. He kept insisting that the lack of financial records was suspicious and that his hunch was right. Of course, he did so without an ounce of pettiness and repeated that they should have listened to him from the start. y/n had a hard time believing him. His frustration started to show and it affected his work. During cases at night, he was bolder, trying to show off. At one point they were fending off a visitor which could have been easily handled at two while George looked for the source yet he picked this time to demonstrate the new move he had been practicing all day. The night had ended with a rush to the hospital and three stitches.

Today was a close call too. He had jumped down a flight of stairs to get between her and a visitor. She thought he probably had good intentions but she had her rapier ready and the situation was under control. It was a relief to see he didn’t break anything, a miracle frankly. She didn’t need a third time to decide to act. She would talk to George in the morning to convince him to spend some time looking into Lockwood’s lead.

They came back home exhausted, George going to bed immediately to stick to his schedule. She was about to do the same when she noticed the light was on in the library. She wasn’t surprised to see Lockwood sitting there with one of his magazines in his lap, acting like the day had no effect on him. He simply smiled at her when she entered and kept reading. She told him that he should rest. He simply hummed in agreement but didn’t move except to turn the page. She was about to give up and leave him there when he bolted up to show her the page he was on. It was a double page ad for an open-door day at Mullet&Sons, inviting clients to try their new line of rapiers and meet the board. The perfect occasion to get closer and hopefully find out more about the founder of the Silverpoint Organization. A light brightened his eyes as he smiled at her. She was certain he wouldn’t shut up about his finding.

A call the next day brought their enthusiasm back down. Right before they left for the Archives, Inspector Barnes had called. Lockwood had answered. His smile had faltered as the conversation went on. He hung up and stayed silent until George asked him what he wanted. Apparently, the inspector had called to warn them again. Only this time the threat had become much more real. Superiors at DEPRAC had taken an interest in the complaints against them, mostly to get Fittes off their back Lockwood thought. But it didn’t matter why, what mattered was that the ridiculous rehabilitation program offered by an unqualified journalist was getting more consideration than originally thought. One mishap would turn y/n and George into the first test subjects of this “educational” experiment. They were now under more surveillance than before. Sneaking into Mullet&Sons offices during their next event was out of the question, they’d be the first accused.

They stood in the hallway in silence, unsure what to do next. Researching more at the Archives seemed futile now.

“I might have an idea.” Lockwood said.

They looked up at him expectantly.

“We go after the financial records.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Lockwood.” George swore. She understood his frustration. Being right didn’t matter now, and this was really not the time. Plus, stealing financial records wasn’t much better to remain far from suspicions.

“Lockwood…” She looked up at him. “We don’t have a way to do that legally and we’ll be the first interrogated. How could we even give evidence to DEPRAC, if we ever find any?”

“We get ourselves an airtight alibi.” He said proudly, like it was obvious.

They stared at him with a beaten expression, still not knowing what he had in mind. He went to the library and came back with the magazine he was reading last night. He eagerly handed it to them, open on a page featuring one of those fancy parties that took place occasionally. Though it wasn’t just any party, it was a fundraiser for the Silverpoint Organization. The next fundraiser was taking place next week and for the occasion an article was referencing last year’s event.

“We get into this party, make sure that everyone sees us and hopefully get some information about Theodor while talking to the guests.”

“But what about the records?”

“We’ll need some extra help.” He said before winking at her.

---

“By getting traces of the transactions between the organization and relic-men we can bring down the operation. And for that we need your help.”

Lockwood was back to his usual self. Charming, self-assured and most importantly in charge. The two girls in front of him had very different reactions. Norrie seemed to have made up her mind already, looking over at George every once in a while like she was in a hurry to get to work. Lucy was more skeptical. She looked like she was battling conflicted emotions. y/n didn’t blame her. They barely knew each other and they were asking her to steal financial records. They had just given up on a whole life, trying to adapt and they should throw all that away to help people they had just met? It was madness and y/n felt bad for asking them such a thing. But she didn’t really have a choice. Aside from them, there weren’t a lot of candidates.

After his whole speech, Lockwood sat in front of them, determination piercing through his eyes. He quirked his lips up in the slightest. She knew all too well this intense stare and irresistible smile. She hadn’t managed to turn him down, not many could. He spoke in a softer voice to try and convince Lucy to join their cause. And it was working, she was considering it. She said she needed time to think it over. But Lockwood wasn’t usually patient. y/n knew what would come next. A compassionate and understanding tirade so sincere you couldn’t help but join his side. But she knew what Lucy had been through, she was there sort of. Not ten seconds after Lockwood had started speaking again she interrupted.

“Lockwood stop.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Don’t do this, just give her some time to think it over.”

“We don’t have a lot of time y/n!” He turned back to Lucy. “And as much as I understand the difficult position this puts you in-”

“Just shut up Lockwood!”

George sighed and buried his head in his hands. Norrie asked him what was wrong.

“They had just started to get along!”

y/n ignored his comments.

“Lucy, I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. I completely understand if you don’t want to join us and stay far away from anything agency related. I just think that we can trust you and we desperately need allies right now. We don’t need a definitive answer now, but do you think you could give it some thought… maybe?”

Lucy looked up at her with a softness in her gaze. She was scarred, that much was clear. She seemed afraid too. But there was much more than that. There was resilience and bravery. An ember in the ashes.

“I’ll think about it.” She said with a thin smile. They exchanged a glance that was enough to make y/n feel a deep connection to the girl. She reached for Norrie’s hand as they exited the room. There was so much more she wanted to say to her. She wanted to tell her about her dreams, about the relief she felt now that she got to know her. The platonic attraction she felt was overwhelming. She had never wanted to be friends with someone so ardently. There was something special about her. She didn’t know if it was El’s betrayal that left a scar or if her dreams were a sign of a deeper bond, but she desperately wanted to find out. She led them back in the hall and slowly closed the door behind them.

She turned to find Lockwood staring at her with a hurt look on his face.

“What the hell was that?”

“I’m… sorry…”

“I’ve been jumping through hoops with you since I met you and I’m getting tired of it.”

Her heart sank.

“Yeah, that’s fair. In my defense, I knew what you were doing and I couldn’t in good conscience let you go through with it.”

“What was I doing?”

“Faking compassion to get what you want.”

“Oh please, not that again. I was just trying to get the help we need. We’re in this mess because of you need I remind you.”

“Lucy’s been through a lot and she deserves genuine sympathy, not some fake act you put on every time we have a difficult client. I still have nightmares about what happened to them, you can’t imagine how it feels.”

“I can actually.”

There was a silence. He looked deeply hurt. She didn’t dare speak, knowing the matter was probably more sensitive than she realized.

“I’m doing everything I can to help you and I need you to be more cooperative. I’m not risking the reputation of my company if this is the thanks I get.”

“You’re right…” She said after a moment. “I went too far.”

He nodded. They stood in silence, neither of them daring to move.

“Just don’t be mean to me again.”

“I won’t.”

He turned to enter the kitchen.

“I wasn’t really mean though…” She said on a hesitant tone. “I was rude sure. But mean… Kipps is mean. He degrades you and all…” She didn’t even know why she said that. A desperate attempt at lightening the mood, giving Lockwood a reason to redirect his anger at someone else. It was pathetic. She could already see herself unable to sleep months from now living the shame of this moment all over again.  

“Oh, so you agree with me now?” He answered turning around. “When did you take the “best leader of the best team” off his pedestal?”

She smiled.

“You’re still a bigger prick than he is though.”

He smiled back.

“Tea?”

[duchess-kyuupid]

~The Duchess' Thoughts and Drabbles Pt. 1~ Ft. Malleus

In order to get back into the spirit of writing (as I've had a bad case of writer's block for the past few months), I felt like I should just write some informal drabbles and short scenarios for the time being instead of my usual semi-long-form-formal writing. After all, I've heard of the best ways to cure writers block is to just... write. So here goes!

Imagine Malleus with a s/o who likes to arm wrestle.

[Gn!Reader, romantic Malleus x reader but can be read platonic, jealousy, fluff]

You have to teach him how the game works at first, but he's happy to indulge in your human interests if you ask to arm wrestle with him (agreeing to your condition that no magic is allowed during your match) and at first, you can't even get his arm to budge.

Like, you're trying so hard to get his arm the other way just a little bit, your face going red from the effort of trying to move something with the strength of a dragon.

And well, Malleus thought that the look on your face was just simply adorable, so he tried to mimic the way your arm was shaking to make it seem like he was also struggling against you. Even though he's objectively quite a terrible actor, it fooled you nonetheless, and he slowly allowed your arm to take over his.

You don't notice the satisfied look on his face as he grants you this opportunity, you were just so unbelievably happy when you had actually won. You started dancing around the room in your excitement, and all Malleus could think about was that 'losing' the game was absolutely worth it if he got to see you this side of you.

And he'd continue to indulge you in your arm wrestling games, so he continued to let you win. Of course, this winning streak against literally the strongest mage in possibly all of Twisted Wonderland made your ego inflate like a balloon. So much so that you had dared to challenge Jack to an arm wrestling match. In which he won by an almost embarrassingly large landslide.

Malleus thinks nothing of this at first- you were just playing around with your fellow man much in the same way that the smaller fae might play together in Briar Valley. But over time, he continued to catch wind that you were going to Jack and demanding rematches on a near daily basis, all of which ended up with you losing almost immediately.

Now, Malleus has a lot of patience. But it was starting to run thin with the way that you were spending a considerable amount of time away from him just to go to another man to play a silly little game. Now why in the world would you prioritize hanging out with Jack more than him? He once asked you this question (not exactly with those words), to which you replied that, "Well I mean, I know that I can win against you any time, so I'm widening my horizons and facing difficult challenges! I haven't been able to beat him yet, but when I do, I'll find a new rival to beat!" So in other words, you'd keep coming to back to Malleus instead of Jack if he just won every arm wrestling competition against you? Easy.

And so for the first time, he asks for a rematch, to which you gracefully accepted, confident that you'd easily be able to win against the opponent you've beaten 37 to 0. Unfortunately for you, Malleus was quite serious about winning this time. And every other time that you asked for consecutive rematches.

"You aren't using any magic, right? That's cheating," you claim. He shakes his head and reaffirms that he has never used magic to win against you. "This must be the first time you've had to face against the true strength of a dragon, dear, " He states with a smug smirk on his face. You, with your now severely deflated ego, sigh and officially declare your loss, coming to terms with the fact that Malleus was only going easy on you for those previous 37 times. Now you're faced with an embarrassing ratio of 37 wins to 115 loses.

With that same smugness on his face, he smiles at you and asks innocently, "Now, am I going to be your new challenge to face against from now on?"

Dejected, you sigh to yourself, "I don't think it's possible to win against you when you've got that much raw strength... At least with Jack it actually seems somewhat plausible," and you finish your reply with a small little pout.

Okay, and now you've just straight up confused Malleus at this point. Why were you humans just so weird? He thought at first that the problem was the he didn't give you enough challenge, and now he's too much of one? What do you even like about these challenges where you fail so miserably until you get a even a single victory? What's so entertaining about that? Malleus even gets mildy upset when he comes to the realization that Jack's been quite cruel to you in the sense that he never lets you win, even though he knows quite well that there was little you could do to get yourself to be able to physically overpower someone like Jack (or even Ruggie, to be honest).

Doesn't he know that your little victory dance is the single most cutest thing in this world? That your smile could singlehandedly cure any ailment? That the look of pure joy on your face after a victory hard-earned could even stop world wars? How could Jack be so cruel as to deny you any semblance of that happiness that solves world hunger and prevents global warming? What a foolish beastman, to not be able to recognize such things, Malleus thinks.

[gayometer]

They can be redeemed

Request by @kitty-chan33

Goes as follows: My request is for the human side of Record of Ragnarok they have a new fighter who is the anti Christ ( a half human demon, who forgive humanity for killing her human mother and what's more she still have hope that they can be redeemed l, ironic that they are a child of the devil ) Is this request okay??

Okay! Before I forget she is a total sweet heart yet can be very scary when fighting as she did killed few minor gods before meeting them, and she's the youngest member of the team

Fem! Reader and platonic

QIN who took one look at you then looked back at Brünhilde like "I want that one as a child". He wasn't surprised to hear you killed a few minor god he supports violence was pretty sure you had a reason " she was in a silly mood your honor ", Qin adores how you're pretty much a two sided coin. On one side you're the sweetest being he could ever ask for, and on the flip side you're a little ball of murder.

SASAKI who mostly likes goofing around with you, you're like a niece he didn't have. You're interested in his odd stories and that's more then enough for him. Sasaki understands being nice but having a backbone to defend yourself, he's like that as well.

TESLA who thinks you're from another universe, we all know he doesn't believe in magic. But he thinks you're a guardian from another universe. He adores info dumping on you about the "evolution of humanity" no matter if you understand it or not. He adores your sweet persona and how even if you're the nicest person known to man you don't let anyone step over you. We wasn't surprised when he heard you killed minor god on you or way to the human side, they were in your way and being insulting and disrespectful, looking down on you for having a human mother. He's not a supporter of violence..unless-

JACK who finds you amusing, you think humanity can be redeemed? Even with a monsters like him in the shadows? Now that's amusing! Jack still treats you like a lady, he's by no means used to being treated with such kindness and thus sometimes appears to be awkward. He can tell you have no ill intentions, your color is one of his favorites.

RAIDEN who cheers on when you fight, he loves strong women, both romantically and platonically, if Thrud is his love then you're his unofficial daughter, he adores that you're a sweetheart that can pack a punch if needed. He's an enabler for both good and bad stuff, so kinda trust him. You'll be fine..in some cases.

OKITA who's your enabler for violence, we ALL saw how blood thirsty he is. Okita doesn't really care, you're his fighting buddy and was smiling ear to ear when he heard you killed some minor gods, they were bad gods no? Then it's fine, they didn't need to live anyways.

ADAM who also finds you amusing and somewhat ironic, I mean...a devil child and redemption? But he knows to not judge a book by its cover, he still finds it funny though. He also finds ironic that the "half daughter of the devil" is the kinder then any "benevolent" god in that audience.

LU BU who is now acts as your semi defender, he takes "she was in a silly mood" to the max. Lu Bu is violent by mature and very much judges a book by its cover, he saw how sweet you were and decided you were weak. And then you murked a few minor gods because "I don't like how they talk". He feels neutral about the whole " I believe humans can be redeemed".

LEONIDAS who's another violence enabler, he's the spartan king what do you expect? Leonidas says you would've been a "great spartan" and adores your kind little self. He lifted you in the air and cheered when he heard about you killing off random insignificant gods.

I haven't posted in literal months I think-

Tbh I've had severe writer's block and I've also been vibing in my bird brain Urogi rp account, bird brain is my hyper fixation now along with demon slayer.

[fireflysummers]

Final Thoughts on GO S2

I'm probably gonna pull back on discussing S2, at least publicly, after this. I did actually like a lot of the season, but it's triggering some of my religious trauma and also the fandom is already stressing me out. So here, let's have some final thoughts.

First and foremost: I am not a Gaiman simp. I've read a decent amount of his work: comics, short stories, essays, and novels. Aside from Good Omens, I've liked Coraline and The Graveyard Book the best by far, whereas American Gods just. Did Not Connect with me, even though it's should have, given the stuff I tend to enjoy.

However. Regardless of whether I like a given work (or even like how he adapted it, a la parts of The Sandman TV series), he is a veteran writer who has proven that he does, actually, know how to write a story with consistent characters.

Beyond that, I do actually believe that he's trying to do right by Pratchett, and loves and respects the story and characters they created together. He's generally shown up as an ally to a variety of social causes, and directly and respectfully responds to fans on Tumblr. While no saint, I feel that there is cause to give the benefit of the doubt that things will resolve satisfyingly in S3, and that there is Intention about some of the things in S2.

This, of course, does not absolve it of being "bad," but even here I think we need to articulate better the different types of "bad" that people are reacting to. There seems to roughly be three camps here: 1) People who thought it was "bad" because of how it ended, with the breakup and a lot of unresolved plot threads; 2) People who thought it was "bad" because it struggled on a technical level with its set, lighting, directorial choices, editing, etc; 3) People who thought it was "bad" because they felt the characterization was significantly off and that the internal logic of the series had been violated.

With regards to Point One, the only solution is to Wait and See. Judgement should be reserved until the story is properly finished--easier said than done, especially considering the current media landscape, and the number of series or franchises that fail to live up to their promises.

Point Two isn't something I understand well enough to contribute meaningfully, except that I suspect the pandemic affected this aspect the most and am willing to give it a bit more mercy. That aside, I for the most part I don't find it bad so much as not as good as S1. Except for the parts with epilepsy warnings, surely there could've been a better way to do that.

Point Three... that's the stumbling block for me, and I find it interesting that most of the folks who struggle with this point in particular are long time fans of the book.

I trust that instinct.

There are two different directions to go from here. The first is the assumption that these problems are a result of ego, carelessness, or lack of skill from the showrunners/writers/director. It's cynical but not unjustified. The second is the belief that the breaks in lore or characterization were intentional, building towards a much grander conspiracy. Of course, even in this case I don't think it forgives the lack of signposting that would indicate that this is a choice rather than an accident. It just makes it feel clumsy and poorly constructed, a major risk on a show that hasn't had its third season confirmed.*

However, regardless, it still feels salvageable. I've enjoyed reading a lot of meta on all this, and I've pulled some things from others (particularly That Theory by @ariaste), but I don't really want to put forth a single, defined theory myself. Instead, here's some questions I've got, why those questions are important (to me, at least). Actual theorizing comes after, and anybody who snidely mentions Sherlock in the comments or tags is going to get auto-blocked. Like seriously, I'm aware that some stuff is a stretch, but it's fun??? To theorize????? And I'm here for me and my peace of mind rather than trying to argue a point.

*I have some suspicions here, particularly with Gaiman stating that the decision from Amazon would come much faster than The Sandman's second season (which was four months). I don't know enough though to say if that's actually significant.

Questions

Who the fuck is telling this story?

This is the most important piece, in my opinion. There's this assumption when reading books (or research papers, newspapers, etc...) that the narrator who is writing the words is a non-presence, Neutral and objective. That's not the case, and an important part of literature critique is figuring out who the narrator is, and what their goals are. Oftentimes, the narrator and the author are the same person, but with Pratchett's work, particularly on Good Omens and Discworld, the Narrator was its own unique character.

This is why people struggle adapting Discworld to live action--that medium requires a Reason for having a Narrator, and especially in the age of method acting that's often considered immersion-breaking. Good Omens worked so well because they not only kept the Narrator, but they made Her God.

This added some really interesting new dimensions, such as the scene where Crowley speaks to God about his fall and the destruction of humanity. He doesn't receive an answer, but we're watching from God's perspective, so we as the audience know that She's listening.

Another advantage of making God the Narrator is that it justifies all the goofy little asides we get into the lives of minor characters (i.e. Leslie the Mailman), without losing focus. It helps the world feel like it’s full of people, rather than characters and plot contrivances, and the theme that individual people and their choices are important. The Narrator is such a central character of Good Omens that without it, the story struggles to stay focused.

It also highlights a key difference in the writing styles of the two authors. Pratchett’s work tends to introduce four or five totally unique plot threads that feel completely disjointed until the last act (if not even later), when it turns into a Chekhov’s Firing Squad. Plot twists around secret identities and backstabbing and schemes are relatively rare, as the omniscient Narrator doesn’t lie about the intentions of people or their actions.

Gaiman’s writing is typically not like that, to my knowledge. He buries characters in misdirection and hints, and you never know the true identity or motives until all the chips are down. It’s a perfectly valid way to approach storytelling, but it makes it jarring to see it in S2. The lack of a Narrator is a huge reason why S2 doesn’t feel like Good Omens to some folks.

My gut feeling is that the decision to shift from the original Narrator was highly intentional. It helps to obscure the thoughts and intentions of people, and it also muddles the insights that we’re supposed to take away. (I would have loved hearing God monologue about what’s going on in Jim’s head. I think it’d do a lot to make him seem less.... obnoxiously stupid.)

More than that, it brings up a reasonable potential plot point of: Where did God go? Why isn’t She present in the story? Even in her early appearance in the Job flashback, she doesn’t sound like the narrator for last season. After the first part of her speech (which Gabriel later quotes), her tone turns casual and condescending, which might line up with her being a bit of an asshole, it doesn’t line up with the whole “dealer of a mysterious card game who is always smiling”).

Also, I don’t think it’s safe to assume that nobody is telling the story either. Just because they’re not making their presence known doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and in a story like Good Omens, that’s concerning.

Wait, where's Satan?

Another person I saw while scrolling the tags pointed out that Satan is nowhere to be seen this season. He's really only mentioned in reference to a bet God made in Job, but then Crowley is the one on the ground causing mischief. There's no Hail Satan among demons (like Hastur and Ligur did at the start of S1).

That's might be because the writers didn't want us to think it was important (a la Hastur), but that feels off. Given that Satan speaks directly through the radio to Crowley in S1, complimenting him on his work, it's safe to say that he was at least aware of and involved in the goings-on in Hell. The fact that he wasn't even an worry for Beelzebub in abandoning their post? Feels weird.

(Also if you know where that post is, I'll happy credit + link)

What is Maggie?

Look, I love cute lesbians in love as much as the next queer, but I don't like Maggie. I don’t think she’s a person. Contextually, she’s a plot device, but I agree with That Essay that she might be an actual Plot Device.

Her characterization is simple and relatively shallow—a bit of an airhead, ray of sunshine that’s supposed to remind you of Aziraphale. When she describes her past to Nina, it’s almost robotic (also, her story implies it was Mr. Fell who first rented to her ancestor, not Mr. Fell’s great-grandfather like Nina implied). Her emotions are over-dramatic and seem to be turned on and off at random (scenes with her crying to Aziraphale about her woes had my “manipulator” senses going off for some reason).

When asked about a song, she not only IDs the song, its singer, and its year, but how and on what it was distributed. (Honestly thought this would’ve been something interesting, because she’s been pretty ditzy so far, it’d be interesting if she had like... an insane memory for music history.) And then she’s the one that sets Aziraphale on his little investigation by giving him the transformed records, while also planting the seed about her love troubles with Nina. Later, her advice to Crowley is... not awful, but feels insincere and a bit too forward, given her own self-proclaimed lack of relationship experience.

I don’t know what she is (a demon, hastur with amnesia in disguise, a literal plot device inserted by the current storyteller, etc...), but there’s something not right with her.

(Also the joke of “who listens to records anymore, it’s so old fashioned” just doesn’t land, lots of people buy records, and I’m saying this as somebody who has worked at a record store before.)

What's going on with Aziraphale?

There’s something Off about Aziraphale, and it’s not his choices at the end of the season. That makes total sense if you read him as somebody with severe religious trauma getting dragged back into the abusive system because other people need him and he’s been promised the ability to change things.

But I do think something is happening to his memory. Nearly all the flashbacks are from Aziraphale’s point of view and retelling, which means that they’re less reliable than God’s version of events in the previous season. Many of them don’t make logistical sense (post-church scene in 1941), depict Crowley as meaner or more sinister than we know he is, or frame events... weirdly. The scene with him trying food for the first time feels Really Bad, especially when the series has previously established that he’s a) prim and proper and b) his interest in food is one of the beautiful things that connect him to humanity, not some kind of gluttonous sin. Also he turns down alcohol.

Their meet-cute at the  start of the universe also doesn’t line up with their reactions to each other in Eden, or the fact that knowing each other Before has never come up or been hinted at anywhere ever. I don’t know what’s causing this to happen, only that Aziraphale repeatedly looks pensive when coming out of flashbacks, and Crowley is never there afterwards to corroborate said memories.

His actions also seem pretty inconsistent with what we know of him—i.e. I refuse to believe he would ever mistreat his books, even if they’re just old encyclopedias. Also, he feels a bit too...forceful in trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love? I mean, he didn’t exert that much direct influence on even Warlock, when he was actively hoping that the boy would turn out angelic rather than neutral.

I don’t think this removes his agency in that last decision, so much as explains how he was in such a vulnerable place at all. He still needs to apologize and fix things, because he messed up, and even if he hadn’t he still seriously hurt Crowley.

What's going on with Crowley?

There’s something Off about Crowley. The most obvious thing, of course, is his memories. At multiple points in the present day, characters state that they remember him or have met him before, only to be met with confusion. This is especially concerning given that he has a nigh photographic memory for faces (something mentioned in the book when he immediately IDs Mary Loquacious, 11 years after a 30 second conversation).

Overall, he seems to be better known by other supernatural entities this season, in ways that often tie him back to his angelic identity (i.e. saying they fought together in the war, Aziraphale stating he knew the angel he used to be, etc...). This doesn’t feel right, because S1 we see that Hell is largely apathetic towards his schemes, and definitely does not defer to him at any point in any capacity.

Then there’s the issue of his power level. It’s always been speculated that Crowley was a powerful angel prior to falling, when he mentions in S1 his involvement with star making, his seemingly unique ability to freeze time, and creating a pocket universe for Adam before the confrontation with Satan. He also has a tendency of breathing life into inanimate objects, like his plants or car. He also has the regular demonic skillset: miracles that can adjust physical appearance; the ability to change inanimate objects (like paintball guns into real guns); the ability to manifest clothing and similar items; and summon hellfire to his fingertips. This, plus the way he monologues to God with a degree of familiarity rather than reverence seems to indicate that he was Somebody Powerful and Important Before.

But in S2, his skills are significantly expanded upon. The miracle he and Aziraphale summon sets off alarms in heaven and hell, and it’s powerful enough to mask Gabriel from the Archangels. He summons a miniature sun to rain fire on Job, which is way bigger and flashier than anything we’ve seen him summon in S1. (If he needs fire, he alters the course of a dropping bomb, without creating one himself.)

Yet he’s able to cloak his presence so well he goes wholly unnoticed in heaven, or in front of heavenly agents on earth (i.e. the Job flashback). Muriel can’t clock him as a demon, or even as another supernatural being, despite their auras usually being pretty significant, such Aziraphale immediately sensing the archangels when they arrive.  He’s able to interfere with files that Muriel claimed required clearance (although I feel like that might just be a snark about Obeying Without Thinking? I would really need a Narrator to know.)

I might be misremembering, but I don’t think we’ve seen angels or demons transmogrify living beings before either. In the book, Crowley brings Aziraphale’s dove back to life after the failed magic show, and occasionally sinks ducks, but he doesn’t alter them? Not even Adam demonstrates that skill in S1. But he has no trouble turning Job’s children into lizards, however temporarily. Boy that would’ve been convenient during the flood. Or when the guard stopped then from getting to the air strip.

I might be misremembering, but I don’t think we’ve seen angels or demons transmogrify living beings before either. In the book, Crowley brings Aziraphale’s dove back to life after the failed magic show, and occasionally sinks ducks, but he doesn’t alter them? Not even Adam demonstrates that skill in S1. But he has no trouble turning Job’s children into lizards, however temporarily. Boy that would’ve been convenient during the flood. Or when the guard stopped then from getting to the air strip.

I don’t have any real issues with his characterization in the present day parts of S2, but there’s something weird happening with Crowley.

Where's all the people?

I really like a lot of the new characters, but how were there only like, 2.5 new humans named in the present day? Flashbacks don’t count bc the humans are all dead and can’t affect the story.

As much as I like Nina, she and Maggie don’t drive the story beyond being an occasional and awkwardly inserted plot contrivance? Both are actively robbed of their agency at several points, forced into situations that they could not have avoided or escaped. I’m not really sure what growth they’re expected to experience other than deciding not to date each other after everything. I literally can’t tell you anything about Nina other than that she remembers her regular’s orders, runs a coffee shop, and has a textbook abusive partner we never see. The only meaningful interactions they have are between those two, or in conversation with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Compare that to S1, where Anathema gets hit by Aziraphale and Crowley, but her primary relationships are with Newt, Adam, and Agnes Nutter (I think that counts as a relationship). We know that she’s got a wealthy family back in Puerto Rico, and that she was literally raised to save the world, and that she isn’t happy under all that pressure. Newt on the other hand is connected to not just Anathema, but Shadwell and Madame Tracy. He never even directly interacts with Aziraphale and Crowley. We know about his hobbies, his struggle to hold down a job, and his almost supernatural ability to destroy any electronics he touches. I don’t necessarily like how their relationship came together, but they were both very, very well fleshed out characters with unique backstories and goals. They weren’t just... waiting around to give Aziraphale and Crowley a new questline.

And while there’s no requirement to include a large cast of human characters that are exerting influence over the story, the lack of it is another aspect that makes this season feel not like Good Omens.

Also, it's just. Really weird to me that the events of S1 aren't really referenced at all? Like, Adam isn't mentioned, nor is Warlock. I don't expect them to keep track of the humans they met on the airfield for 20 minutes, but none of it is ever specifically referenced as far as I can tell, beyond Crowley threatening Gabriel. Like, I get that it's been a few years, but the pair caused a big enough disturbance that you'd expect some kind of ripples in their supernatural communities.

Promised by the Narrative (Obvious Chekhov's guns that I will be legitimately upset over if they do not go off)

A sincere apology from Aziraphale to Crowley that doesn't come with the expectation that Crowley will come back to him, but because he deserves an apology, even if the choices Aziraphale made were done with good intentions. Aziraphale does not expect forgiveness, and is shocked when Crowley grants it without hesitation.

A clear declaration of love from Aziraphale, which can't be rationalized away by either of them.

An "I'm Sorry" dance between Aziraphale and Crowley, but with greater sincerity and gravity. The most important piece is that they end up dancing together, which signifies a mutual apology and dedication to come together.

Since kissing is on the table, I expect an actual joyful, mutual kiss between these two assholes.

A shared cottage in South Downs.

Predictions/Theories (just some fun thoughts I've had)

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he didn't make himself not the antichrist, but accidentally crowned his human dad the King of Hell. Nobody knows this, because Adam doesn't have a good measure for "normal" supernatural situations, and Mr. Young because he's so "normal" that he explains away all the magical bullshit that's started going down.

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he erased Satan altogether. However, this left a vacuum in both power and reality. The defection of both Gabriel and Beelzebub only widens that crack. In an attempt to Fix things, reality is warping the story. Crowley has become leagues more powerful between S1 and S2, as the narrative is trying to force him into the role of his previous boss. Aziraphale is unknowingly being pulled into a similar version on the Other Side, perhaps to replace Gabriel or perhaps to replace God herself, who has been fairly absent in all this. The alterations to their memories or past have come about to keep the narrative running smoothly.

When the Metatron asks Nina whether anybody has ever asked for death, he was actually referring to Death, the sole remaining rider of the apocalypse.

If Maggie is indeed a Plot Device, it would be a fascinating exploration of Free Will to see her become aware of this (cue existential crisis), and then fall in love with Nina on her own terms, rather than because she was written that way.

Hastur will be back. Somehow.

The reason why S2 focuses so much on the supernatural characters is because S3 will be about how the events in S1 have changed the political landscape of heaven and hell. Angels are questioning their roles, demons are yearning for something more. It's scaring upper administration, and then the two most reliable folks in employment run away to alpha centauri. Recruiting Aziraphale and getting him back in line prevents him from becoming a martyr, control the range of his influence. The series reasserts its theme of choice and agency by highlighting that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't that special, they've just had the chance to live and grow, and that the others have free will too, if they want it.

The reason why they wanted to separate Aziraphale and Crowley, is not to get Aziraphale on his own, but to get Crowley on his own. He literally stopped time and made a pocket universe in front of Satan last season. He's powerful and dangerous and somebody wants to see that reigned in.

Wishlist (stuff I desperately want to see)

Crowley getting an audience with God and an opportunity to ask his questions, only to refuse to do so because he's found his own Answers and he no longer needs hers

Aziraphale and Crowley growing more into their book incarnations. Aziraphale becomes confident in his sense of morality, which he developed the hard way through millennia on earth besides humanity. He slowly learns what it means to be loved, unconditionally, but also is better at asserting and maintaining his boundaries. Crowley, still anxious and unwinding, works through his fear of abandonment, providing him opportunities to be kind and gentle and nurturing--all traits that he's aggressively hid since being a demon.

Hand holding. I know that Gaiman was referring to Ineffable Bureaucracy, but I still feel like we'd benefit from meaningful hand holding, especially since that got cut from the adaptation of the book.

Shifted focus away from the supernatural shenanigans, and back onto the humans that actually drive the story.

Cameos from S1 characters (if not a more substantial appearance).

The Four Other Riders of the Apocalypse.

Cursed Thoughts (why I shouldn't be allowed a social platform)

Ineffable Bureaucracy turns up in season 3 because Beelzebub got Gabriel pregnant somehow.

[finnigan-writes-stuff]

Hey is it ok if you could do fluff with Hunter and a badass!caring!human Reader who is very protective to the people she cares for and has a soft spot for  Hunter (when he's not messing the denizens of the Owl House)

Hi anon! I am so so so sorry this took so long I've been swamped with school work and been going through some writers block. If you don't like how this turned out let me know and I'll redo it! Also since it wasn't specified if you wanted romantic or platonic I went with romantic I sincerely hope that's ok. Also it got a little angsty in some places my bad

Hunter with a badass s/o

Warnings:cursing

Pronouns:they/them

You and Luz were besties so when Luz was going to get sent to that camp you decided to tag along so she wouldn't be lonely

Not once did you expect that you were actually going to end up in a magic world

You didn't care as much about becoming a witch as Luz did, while yes it seemed interesting you were more interested in hand to hand combat so you ended up stealing a sword

In any case the first time you met Hunter you didn't know that he was the golden guard

You were in the market getting some stuff for Eda when you came across a book stand and you realized that some of these books were about the savage ages, you figured Luz would enjoy them so you went to buy them

That's when he stopped you and started talking about how those books are banned and for good reason

You didn't feel like getting sent to the conforatorium right now so you begrudgingly decided against buying the book.

Afterwards you decided to ask the kid his name and if he wanted to hang out with you

He was very hesitant but ended up agreeing to it

After that day you two became fast friends and you became partners soon after

When you found out he was the golden guard your relationship had started to get bumpy but after he found out how much of a douche Belos was everything was (sorta) back to normal

When he ran out of the Owl House you chased after him and when you found him in the woods you had a heart to heart and told him that if he ever needed you you'd be there.

The first time he saw you fight he fell harder than he already did

Like he was down bad before but now he's down bad

When King's tide happened you fucking punched Belos for being a dick to your friends

You almost got killed because of it but ut was totally worth it

All in all you two are adorable and Luz and Amity are jealous

[k1ttef1a]

I have plenty of requests for yuri voice, there’s not enough fics or headcanons, but! I hope you can change that! Can I have a Charlie fic where there’s top cas? Literally any top reader-

1) Can I have a Charlie fic where there’s top!fem! cas? Smut pls- and like the plot being he’s just pent up from stress and just needs a release-

2) Alphonse and Seth, seth still thinks he isn’t worthy of any love from them so sugurboo and Alphonse show him that is worth it? Switch!Alphonse, sub Seth, and dom top female sugarboo?

3)fin fluff/ angst(bc we need both sometimes) that who will not be named shows up at his shop, belittles him and even goes to hit him- and so sunflower basically steps in and helps

And so that’s it, please and thank you

Helping Out |Charlie

pairing: Yuurivoice Charlie x fem! reader

warnings: smut, blowjob, dom? reader, sub Charlie

summary: Pete has been working Charlie to the bone, which means Charlie doesn't have a lot of time to relax so you decide to be a sweet girlfriend and help destress.

a/n: I've been having a bad case of writers block so this is kind of shitty.

Charlie had to work overtime at Pete's because today they just so happened to be SEVERELY understaffed, unfortunately for him this wasn't the first time this week he had to work overtime so he was absolutely exhausted.

You could tell by the look in his eyes every time he came home that he was tired and was extremely stressed out, making you feel sorry for your poor boyfriend.

You were currently sitting on your bed, which you shared with Charlie, waiting for him to come home. As you waited for him to come home you checked the clock on the night stand. It was already 11:30?! You started to worry that he'd never come home. (You were being dramatic but still, you wondered if he'd come home soon or at least come home today).

As you thought about the whereabouts of your boyfriend you heard the front door open then close. Charlie walked into your guy's shared bedroom looking even more tired than yesterday, which made you quite upset. He shouldn't have to stay over time and get paid minimum wage.

"How was work today Chuck?" You asked in a sweet and soft tone, not wanting to be too loud since he had to deal with bitchy customers loud and obnoxious voices all day. "It was fine, Pete was just up my ass all day, you know the usual." He said as he kicked off his shoes and took off his black zip up sweater vest.

"I'm sorry." You replied, feeling sorry for him, having to deal with his boss. "You have nothing to be sorry for Cas, plus it's bringing in money I guess." He said, mumbling the last bit of his sentence. "I mean yeah but you should enjoy work, not come home feeling like shit." You said. It wasn't okay that he was coming back home feeling like crap then going to bed, waking up, going back to work, and restarting the cycle all over again.

"Well there's nothing I can really do." That was true, there was nothing he could really do. The jobs were all minimum wage and kinda shady, and the ones that weren't, you needed a really good resume, which he didn't really have considering the fact that he's quite literally worked for shady people and done shady things, and working for Pete of course.

While Charlie was in the shower washing off all the sweat and grime from that day, you tried to figure out a way to relax your boyfriend. He was off tomorrow, maybe you could just make the day all about him since he's been having bad days for the past week. Good cuddles, breakfast, maybe even take him shopping for some new clothes. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Charlie came out of the bathroom drying off his hair by shaking it like a dog, wearing black and red plaid pajama pants.

He plopped himself on the left side of you, pushing his head back against the pillow and sighing heavily. You got up and decided you'd start his special treatment tonight.

You laid yourself on Charlie's stomach, making him look at you, your faces a couple inches away from each other. "Chuck, can I ask you something?" You said. "Uh sure? What is it?" He said in response, his face slightly flushed from how close you were to his crotch, and from the shower. "Can I.. take care of you tonight?" You asked shyly. This wasn't the first time you guys have had sex but it was a bit more awkward due to the fact that he looked like he was about to pass out at any moment. "You really don't have to Cas, I won't be able to really give you anything back because I feel I'm about to pass the fuck ou-" Before he could finish his sentence you covered his mouth with your hand. "You don't have to give me anything back I just..wanna take care of you tonight." You said, looking at him compassionately. You wanted tonight to be about him and him only.

"I don't want anything in return, I can tell you've been really stressed out and I want to help you relax." You say as you take your hand off his mouth, waiting for a response. He sighs. "Okay." He knew you were pretty stubborn so it would be pretty much impossible for him to disagree with not giving you anything back in return.

You slid the rest of your body down his stomach to in between his legs. You grabbed the front of his pants and his boxers and pulled them down, his cock springing out.

You look at him to see his reaction but he's just looking at you with wide eyes, his face flushed even more than before. You look back down to his cock and give it a small kiss before slowly and carefully taking it all in your mouth, making him lean back into the pillow and moan.

You started to slowly suck him off, not wanting him to cum too fast. "C-cas can I put my hands in your hair please?" He asked. "Mhm." Is all you could say, not wanting to stop.

You started to pick up the pace, making him moan louder. Now the only thing you could hear was Charlie's moans and whimpers and the sound of you sucking him.

You could tell Charlie was close by the way he was bucking his hips slowly into your mouth and the way he was intertwining pieces of your hair into his fingers. "Fuck C-Cas I'm c-close~" You started sucking him off faster and faster, drool trickling down from your mouth to your chin. Charlie was a panting mess, begging and pleading to cum in your mouth, to which you let him.

Strings of his cum shooting to the back of your throat, while you groaned, tears streaming down your face from having to keep your jaw open for so long. You took his cock out of your mouth, as you whipped your lips that were covered in your saliva and a bit of the cum that managed to escape your mouth.

As you both tried catching your breath he pulled up his pants and brought you up to his chest, wiping away the tears that were still running down your cheeks. "S-sorry Cas, was I too rough? " He said, breathing heavily still trying to catch his breath. "N-no, no, not at all." You said sounding like you were about to fall asleep at any second.

"Thank you Casper, you really know how to relax me when I need it." He said in a sleepy voice before yawning and looking down at you to see you already more than half asleep.

"You're...wel..come." You said before fully falling asleep. Charlie then smirked softly and kissed your forehead, grabbing the blanket and covering the both of you.

"Good night Cas." He said before closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep.

☆ this was requested by @kenzib23! It's been about a month since I've posted a fanfic so here you go (I've been extremely busy and exhausted :')) my requests are open!