#In all of his fluffed up glory

[ronkeyroo]

🐺 🌹  Yes, MORE Werewolf!Ardyn — No, I will not calm down

[aw1tht33tha]

Feeling feral enough, darling?

Astarion gets turned into a delicious whimpering puddle (and a bit of a feral animal) with the powerful magic of sensual femdom, pegging and lots of love. Just the way this man deserves.

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Pairing: Spawn Astarion/F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: 18+, BDSM, femdom, power play, bondage, dirty talk, teasing, edging, cunnilingus, blowjob, pegging, rough PinV sex, body worship, sensory deprivation (sight/touch), praise kink, sensitive elf ears, orgasm denial, biting, scratching, blood drinking, high heels, fetish, fluff and sass, two horny sadistic assholes in love, established relationship, more or less cannon compliant, cat in the end

Read on AO3 or indulge right here:

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Astarion’s mind is spinning these instructions on repeat as he opens the front door and enters your deceivingly quiet home:

Take a bath.

Enter the bedroom naked.

Kneel next to the bed.

Put a blindfold on.

Wait.

Surrendering control wasn’t novel for a vampire spawn. However, giving it up fully and willingly for shared pleasure with his lover felt deeply alluring, but a little intimidating still. Astarion is too used to lavishing others with attention and keeping his grip tight on the reins out of necessity, rather than his own desire. But it should be different now. The newfound safety of your relationship gifted him a chance to learn letting go and truly enjoying himself for the first time in what seemed like a fucking eternity.

He feels slightly anxious as he undresses and discards clothes on the floor, crimson eyes locked on a steamy bath with bubbles, prepared lovingly in time for his arrival.

It’s been almost a year since both Cazador and Netherbrain fell to their deaths. The bond you’ve built together since then felt stronger than ever. No masters to serve, just following your own hearts. And yet, worries that pain and disgust may flood back from the depths of his past again gnaw at the back of his mind. He wants this to be perfect. To take a leap of faith and feel good and present, blissed out with you tonight. Free of his demons. For good.

“This is what I want, isn’t it?”

Take a bath.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a few seconds trying to settle his nerves, then steps into the bathtub to clean off blood, sweat and dirt of his last bounty kill. Warm water embraced his cool body and relaxed sore muscles almost instantly, freeing his mind to reminisce about more pleasant things from the recent past.

Being an adventurous “hero” proved to be a surprisingly fun and profitable pastime, quite deliciously filling too if you happen to be a vampire. “Turns out nobody really cares about the murder… as long as you murder the right people.” Astarion recalls his joke at a party with your group of weirdo friends and it turns the corners of his lips up a little.

He starts making quick and thorough work of getting himself clean with fragrant soap, shampoo and conditioner. Pleasant as it is to soak and indulge in a self-care routine, it seemed just a bit cruel to make you wait for this perfect body for too long.

A few minutes pass and Astarion is out of the tub and sufficiently dried off - damp silver locks falling charmingly out of order and white towel wrapped scandalously low around his hips. He grabs the bathroom door handle confident enough to proceed with the next step.

Enter the bedroom naked.

“Right, naked” – he freezes. With one swift motion towel flies off his lean body to join the pile of its cotton siblings stacked in the corner. He crosses a dark corridor, anticipation starting to build up in his chest. Your shared bedroom reveals itself in all its intimate glory and comfort.

Closed heavy blinds, fresh dark silken sheets on a spacious bed, fluffed pillows arranged in an unusually orderly manner and almost ridiculous amounts of candles bathing the room in gentle warmth, pleasant scents, and dancing lights. So very you and him. The top of the bedside table appears busier than most days, displaying a carefully lined up selection of sex toys and ropes. All quite familiar to Astarion, yet he doesn’t know when and how exactly any of those are going to be used tonight and it is positively intriguing.

The only sound in the room is produced by candle wicks softly crackling in the background. Astarion takes a moment to sink in the atmosphere and looks around.

Kneel next to the bed.

His gaze stops at a big red pillow invitingly laying in the middle of the room close to the bed. A simple black blindfold is resting on top. He circles around and slowly lowers himself down on his knees. No one is commanding a vampire to do so except his own little voice. He yearns for your presence already and picks up a blindfold.

“Curious how we got here,” Astarion thinks as he gently runs his fingers along the soft black fabric, grateful for all the time you’ve spent together up until this moment. How it literally turned his undead life around and made him experience everything he thought was impossible or unreachable. Everything he thought wasn’t meant for him – freedom, salvation, friendship and… love.

Especially love. Somehow, he found himself not only caring deeply for you, but slowly nurturing some love and acceptance for himself. A truly unexpected turn of events.

Put a blindfold on.

The blindfold slides over his beautiful eyes and Astarion finds himself depraved from one of the prime senses to rely on. An exciting image of you invades his mind and he starts wondering if you are going to wear anything at all tonight.

His brain naturally shifts focus to what he can hear, touch, taste, and smell instead.

Your voice. What are you going to ask of him tonight? Will you let him make you scream his name?

Your skin. So soft and warm, he craves to glide his fingers all over your body right this instant.

Your scent. That unique blend of indescribable “you” with a hint of perfume or whatever fragrant skin care you just couldn’t stop stealing from his shelf like the adorable fetishist you are.

Your blood. That sweet life essence you are kind enough to share, keeping him hopelessly addicted from the first bite.

And wait.

Wait for your arrival and then dive into the unknown. Well, not that unknown since you both discussed your desires a few days prior, leaving just a touch of mystery on the details. “Gale of Waterdeep” was chosen to serve as your shared safe word, cause who else possessed an ability to kill the mood faster than a walking encyclopaedia?

This is, without a doubt, the sweetest torture for Astarion so far in the night. Just kneeling still and ready, wondering which of the obscene scenarios generated by his mind in your absence was going to become a reality. He did exactly what you asked him to do already, and he couldn’t wait for more.

It isn’t too long before his head instinctively turns towards the sound of steps approaching the room. A measured, confident pace accentuated by an unmistakable clack of heels meeting wooden boards sends a little shiver up his spine.

Finally.

You open the door without haste and your eyes are met with probably the best sight you could ever imagine:

A devastatingly beautiful elf is kneeling at your mercy, exposed and blindfolded, his perfect marble skin bathed in candlelight. Soft silver locks allowed to arrange themselves with less restraint than usual. His cock is hard for you already, twitching and leaking precum as you take your time to shut the door and take a few steps closer. His chest is heaving in anticipation, those beautiful tender lips parted slightly, both arms digging through his own thighs not daring to touch himself where he is dying to be touched right now.

Astarion looks properly riled up by his own imagination already. Letting him marinate and fight against his own impulsive nature worked even better than you anticipated. You shake off a strong temptation to sabotage the whole scene and dive down to devour him right where he is. It would be a crime to end the session so soon and you find the strength in yourself to stick to your plan of taking him completely apart piece by piece.

“Hello, my sweet,” your flirty voice is barely above a breathy whisper, and he can tell you are saying it through a wide smile without even needing to see your face.

A raspy “I missed you so much,” is all Astarion can manage to reply as his nose catches intoxicating mix of pulsing blood in your veins, arousal building up between your thighs, and surely his own perfume you’ve stolen again as you position your hips mere inches away from his gorgeous face.

“Did you? How about a proper greeting, then?”

You gently raise his chin with a curled index finger and run your thumb across soft parted lips making him gasp and desperately lean into your touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his own fingers lightly grazing the pillow, crawling their way towards your feet in the darkness.

“No touching until I say so.” Your warning makes him slightly raise his hands in defeat and put them back on his thighs. He manages to behave while your thumb invades his mouth to meet with a hungry vampire tongue, even when your other hand caresses his neck and jawline in admiration. It’s the feather light tracing of his pointy ear from earlobe to the tip that makes Astarion shudder and send his seeking arms forward again.

No, he won’t be able to keep his hands away from you or himself at this rate, so you stop and take a step back as soon as his fingers make contact with the tips of your shoes. Astarion lets out a soft disappointed moan, his body leaning forward craving any attention you would graciously descend upon him.

“Please, I’m burning to touch you, my love.” He is on the steady path of falling apart already.

Delightful.

“You’ll have your chance if you’re patient enough. Wrists together behind your back.”

He reluctantly obliges your command. You reappear behind him with a short red rope to lean down and restrain him with a simple double column tie. That should take care of his mischievous rogue hands for now and you circle around to face him again.

“Now, where were we?”

Before Astarion has a chance to come back with anything at all, your right foot lightly grazes against his left knee and you drag the blunt nose of your pump up his leg, ghosting over the aching length of his cock almost as if by accident. His abdominal muscles clench and he lets out a shaky sigh, baring his fangs. Observing this man’s reactions to teasing is quickly becoming your new favourite form of entertainment. You rest your foot on his upper thigh applying just enough pressure to make the heel sting slightly, keeping him sitting low.

“You may worship whatever you can reach with your lips.”

He eagerly leans forward, and his mouth starts travelling up your inner thigh kissing, licking, nibbling on your smooth skin like a starved man. Payback time, darling, Astarion thinks reaching that place where your leg connects to pelvis and caressing you agonisingly slow with his firm tongue, so close to your sex you almost wobble. You run your fingers through his white curls gripping firmly to find stability.

Astarion quickly realises you are not wearing any panties, so he keeps on leaving tender kisses and passionate licks all around your folds and clit, never giving you more than his hot breath over the very centre. He knows exactly how to drive you dripping wet and desperate, pussy clenching over nothing. Difference is, he is not really in control this time, so you intend to serve him a reminder and tilt his head back, pulling hard on silver locks.

“I think you’re missing a spot,” you manage in between intensified breaths.

“Sorry, darling. If only I could see what I was doing,” he sounds almost convincingly apologetic, but a tiny smug smile gives him away. Astarion knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He won’t be getting away with anything easy tonight, though… despite his impressive arsenal of ways to melt your body and mind into a whimpering puddle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” You cup his perfect face gently before adding, “stick your tongue out for me, gorgeous.”

Your confident yet warm tone makes him obey before even thinking. This feels refreshingly fun and liberating - not having to think much and simply relying on you to lead this dance to ecstasy however you desire.

You bring his face closer and roll your hips forward forcing his tongue to part the folds and finally get to the most sensitive parts of your sex. A much anticipated sensation hits you almost like a jolt of electricity and you have to dig your fingers in his neck and shoulders to keep your balance.

“Now, be a good boy and make me come.” You push the words out quickly before starting to lose yourself on Astarion’s skilled tongue. He is lapping your cunt devotedly, flexing muscles against the restrains, moaning softly. No toying around, witty remarks or aiding with fingers, just completely lost in eating you out with passion.

It doesn’t take much time for him at all to tighten up the coil of pleasure in your lower belly and for you to release it, holding on to him firmly as your legs dangerously give in to the weakness. Gods below, these damn heels don’t help either and you barely manage to ride out your orgasm not collapsing down.

You take a few moments to unwrap your arms from Astarion and steady your breath a little. “You did so well, my love… giving me exactly… what I asked for.”

As a reward, you take off the blindfold and carelessly toss it on the floor, the elf below you then greedily drags his gaze up your body. You are wearing nothing but high heels and one of his slutty black shirts you shamelessly snatched from his wardrobe earlier. Unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, fabric loosely dripping down your back and ass, it’s not really covering anything in front. His burning eyes meet yours. “Anything for you, beautiful.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stand up.” 

You take a small step back and let him rise on his feet. Usually, Astarion would tower over you being a few inches taller, but the heels keep you almost the same height letting your eyes level with his. He finds himself enjoying this new perspective.

You let your nails and fingertips gently explore under his jaw, down his neck and over the clavicles. Then you close the gap between your lips inviting Astarion for a heated kiss, tasting your own deliciousness still lingering on his tongue. With his arms still tied he can’t do anything but struggle against the rope and desperately try to melt his whole naked body against yours seeking familiar warmth or any form of friction you would allow.

You decide to give in to this sweetness and lower your hands to pull your lover closer by the waist. Astarion uses this opportunity to push into the kiss even more and grind himself against you, leaving trails of sticky precum all over your belly. It’s too easy to get drunk on his eagerness and you have to peel yourself away before you’re too far gone. There is much more to do after all.

“A good little vampling like you deserves a treat, you know?” You whisper in his ear mischievously as you nudge him to take a few steps back towards the bed.

He sits down watching your every move through a haze of lust. You circle the edge of the bed and sit behind, brushing your lips against his ear as you half-whisper a new command. “I need you to get on bed fully and lay down on your back for me. Can I trust you to behave well and not touch anything you shouldn’t?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you hear sincerity in his reply, and set his arms free for now. Astarion wastes no time doing what he was asked to. You ditch your shoes and crawl on top of him straddling his waist. He tentatively lifts his forearms from the sheets anticipating you to restrain him again.

“Well, look who’s finally playing along,” you smile, playfully drawing random patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “Being tied up growing on you?”

“It’s you. Surrendering to you like this is growing on me,” his soft breathy confession travels right to your core. You bring his right wrist up to your lips and kiss it gently.

“Oh, I think you will love what I’m about to do next,” you give him a smug look and stretch the arm you were holding towards the upper corner of the mattress. Reaching under the pillows at the headboard you produce a thick leather handcuff connected to the bedframe with a rope. 

Astarion lets you close and secure it around his wrist with an excited sigh. “Gods, you really planned everything out.” 

You throw him another confident smile and repeat the same steps with the other wrist.

There is now a beautifully splayed vampire on your bed and it’s time for the main course. You shuffle back slightly, spread your thighs and press his legs down with your shins making it much harder for him to move his hips. You lower yourself down and start worshipping his exquisite body, letting your hands and mouth freely explore and trace all his lines and curves. Broad chest and shoulders, sensitive neck and nipples, firm abs, narrow hips – no part is left without your thorough attention. You deeply enjoy discovering every possible reaction he can give you while you caress and scratch, kiss and nibble, lick and breathe down his flawless ivory skin.

His hitched breaths and hisses gradually evolve into soft quiet moans the longer it continues and further down you go. When your arms and hot tongue leisurely reach his hips, your hair and the collar of the shirt start lightly brushing against his aching neglected erection. He can't stay more or less composed anymore.

"P-please, love," his urgent plea makes you raise your head and catch his longing gaze, pupils blown wide.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, waiting for more elaborate begging.

Astarion doesn’t wait for you to nudge him further. “Please, I need you. Your hands, your mouth, anything...”

"Like this?" You position your tongue at the base of his hard girthy cock and glide it up, savouring his taste, feeling it twitch against your touch. You pay extra attention to the pale pink tip, suckling on it gently and cupping his balls with your hand.

"Mhmm... yes, please… more," his purring approval reaches your ears, and you dive down on his length, taking in as much as you can on the first go before sliding back up and releasing him with a little pop. Astarion is quickly becoming a writhing mess as you repeat the pattern a few more times.

Your movements are slow and deliberate as you alternate between hand strokes, sucking or just teasingly kissing all around his delicious cock and balls. You are not being consistent with your pace or type of stimulation on purpose, attempting to drag out his pleasure as long as possible. It only works somewhat effectively as he is obviously on a steady ascend towards his climax no matter how chaotic you are in toying with him. There is just too much pent-up energy aching to burst out.

His head is slowly tilting back, erection almost rock-hard, and erratic exhales start breaking into moans. This is your cue. The perfect timing. You drop everything you were doing at once and pull yourself up into sitting between his legs, watching him break apart groaning and throwing his hips up in the air, finding nothing to help him finish. He was oh so close and you just denied him the much-awaited moment of bliss.

“Why must you be so cruel?” He loudly whimpers, shutting his eyes and rubbing his feet against the sheets in frustration.

“Cruel, my dear?” You climb over him and slide off the bed to pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher. “I’m merely serving a fantasy. You know the words if it’s getting too...”

“No!” He interrupts and his wide red eyes meet yours. He adds a much softer, “please continue.”

You take a few sips of water and rest the glass back on a bedside table, inspecting the toys on display. You go for a small bottle of thick lube, a girthy glass butt plug and a strapless strap-on.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? As I recall…”

You theatrically clear your throat to proceed with your best “Astarion” impression as you climb back on a bed armed with new tools to ruin him.

“I want you to torture me with pleasure, darling! Tease and edge me to your heart’s delight. Make me go feral for the sweetest release by the end of it…”

You prop one of the pillows under his ass for extra comfort and position yourself in between his slender legs. Then you gently tap him to spread wide open, knees bent high in the air. You generously coat your fingers in lube and start teasing his entrance and continue quoting him almost word for word.

“I know it may not be easy to achieve, unless you are, well, a seasoned professional like me,” you pause to imitate his high-pitched giggle. “But please make your best attempt.”

Astarion is taken aback by the sheer audacity of you mocking him like that, and can only watch your performance with his jaw open. You bend over and place the weight of your body on his chest getting your lips closer to whisper in his ear:

“…or something like that.” 

Your index finger effortlessly slips inside, earning you his sweet gasp.

There is no rush as you slowly curl your digit inside him, kissing his neck and playfully nibbling on his earlobe. Soon enough, second finger joins the first and you feel Astarion’s calves brushing against your backside as he relaxes into the feeling of being stretched out. You raise yourself on one elbow to find his lips and start kissing tenderly, noses brushing together. You are eager to share just how much you’re pleased with him without any words.

He hums sweetly and wraps his legs around your waist when you carefully add a third finger in and push a little deeper inside. His cock is leaking precum on his abs, twitching against your lower belly.

“I’m so ready for you,” he rasps quietly, and you feel a rush of wetness, igniting your desire to give him everything you can. What did you do to deserve this world-endingly beautiful man melting under you like this?

You raise up and slide your fingers out carefully. While giving his shaft lazy pumps with one hand, you are fitting in the strap-on with the other. Even though a strapless variety is harder to keep in place, you appreciate extra feedback and pleasure it can provide. One more coat of lube for good measure and you are ready to invade his body again.

Taking it very slowly you line up the tip of your strap with his hole and dive in inch by inch, sending shivers up his spine. You give him a couple of seconds to adjust and then push under his knees encouraging Astarion to practically fold in half as you choose your preferred angle. Time to clench your pussy and get to work.

You are rolling your hips in rhythmic deep thrusts and manage to snake one hand in between your bodies to stroke him as well. The end of the strap within rubs deliciously against your tense walls. Sweet praises leave your lips as you fuck him gently.

“Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“You look breathtaking just like this.”

“I love making you feel good.”

Doesn’t take too long until Astarion is reduced to sweat and loud whimpers, eyes shut and completely lost in his own world of rapture. He is about to fall over the edge at any second, arms grasping at the ropes that hold him in place, legs wrapped around your waist. You are not too far behind yourself and it's extremely tempting to just keep on going until it shatters you both into pieces.

You listen closely to his telltale signs not to miss the right moment. And then you pull out and break away from him. Again. This time he almost flies off the sheets after you. The whole bed frame shakes at his attempt to escape his restraints and chase you.

“Feeling feral enough, darling?” You pant heavily and toss aside the strap, brushing away strands of hair stuck to your face. A growl and flash of fangs is all you get as a reply.

“Shhh.. shh.. I just want to feel you inside me as you come undone.” 

It almost feels like you are approaching an injured tiger as you try to get through to whatever humanity is still lingering in his brain.

“Allow me?” You show him the glass plug and he stills just enough for you to glide it inside, giving him at least some feeling of fullness back.

“Last thing I’m going to ask you to do…” You reach to free Astarion from leather cuffs while he practically burns holes in your face with a smoldering stare. “...is to fuck me however you want.”

You free up his right arm and he grabs your shoulder immediately, scrunching his own shirt roughly. Before you can even process what happened, you are pinned down on your back and have to somehow reach your arms from under him to get his other wrist. He is pushing your thighs apart urgently, lining himself as your fingers clumsily fiddle with the buckle on the other cuff.

Astarion shakes the damned thing off and holds you down in a squeezing embrace as he drives himself into your dripping wet pussy with a single powerful thrust, burying himself up to the very hilt. That hip-slapping entrance makes you see sparks and hold on to his back for dear life. Right away he sets a fast and punishing pace that makes the corners of your eyes water from intensity. His head drops to nuzzle your neck and send hot shaky breaths into your bare skin.

There is no holding back. Nothing, but pure animalistic lust as he rails you with vengeance. The sensation of being fucked helplessly like this is overwhelming and you feel him all over your sensitive spots, stretching you deep and to absolute capacity. Your legs start trembling and you are digging nails into his scarred back as he bites down on the curve where your neck meets the shoulder. And this mutual exchange of piercing pain is all it takes to finally finish you both.

You’ve never felt or heard either you or Astarion come so violently until tonight. Waves of orgasm hit you both like a screaming tsunami. If his undead vampire heart was still beating it would surely leap out of his chest right there and then, as he was spilling everything you made him hold back inside you, arms gripping even harder, fangs sinking deeply.

For a few moments it seems like you have merged into a single entity – one body and soul in a state of absolute incomprehensible mess, riding high on your climactic waves. When it’s over, you both are slowly coming back to your senses. Astarion carefully retracts his sharp canines from the wounds that guarantee to leave bruises and starts gulping your blood. His grip also softens, and you both enjoy the intimate closeness of him feeding on you for a bit, steadying your breaths. He laps and licks your puncture wounds, drawing just enough blood to make you feel a little dizzy, while satisfying his own urge to taste you.

“You alright, my love?” He is the first to check in, searching your eyes with a smidge of worry as he realises he may have been a little too wild, even by his own unhinged standards.

“I am great. This was incredible,” you manage a tired but happy smile and lazily run your fingers through his unruly curls while he pulls out of you, gets rid of the plug and tosses all the toys back on the bedside table. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not even sure how to put it all into words yet. It was liberating? Intense? Ecstatic? Certainly fun! I’ve never experienced anything like this before. You were amazing, thank you“ Astarion melts your soul with the softness of his gaze. A little pause and then it turns a little naughty. “And I will be asking for more. Although, we have to do something about your cute obsession with stealing my things before it gets out of hand.” He slightly tugs on the collar of his shirt you were wearing this whole time and smirks. You chuckle at his glowing review and pepper his face with small kisses.

Next few minutes are spent side by side cuddling, joking and whispering sweet nothings to each other, refusing to let go just yet.

“Darling, just how many lovers did you have to go through to get this good?”

“Not as many as you had to. I’m a natural, you see.”

“Oh, are you now?”

He purrs the question in your ear and playfully rolls on top, caging you with his limbs only to freeze a mere inch away from your lips, his face looking like he just remembered something mildly concerning. 

“Where is His Majesty?”

“Oh shit, I locked him in the kitchen to spare us his judging gaze.”

“You did what?!”

“Hold on, I’ll let him out.”

You almost jump out of his embrace and quickly disappear to free the forgotten cat. A few loud disapproving hisses later that smug hairless bastard enters the bedroom like he owns the place, you are merely trailing behind. His Majesty gracefully leaps on a bed wasting no time to curl up next to his favourite elf. Astarion may be the only person in the entire Faerun, you are convinced, who somehow found a way to tame that ball of absolute feline sass.

“Natural, she says. Can you believe that woman?” He coos and kisses the cat's forehead.

His Majesty throws you one last glance before melting into Astarion’s hands as you crawl back under the blanket. You can’t help but adore these two cuddling in the most sickeningly sweet way possible. Even when these brats are seemingly plotting against you. 

The last candles are blown out and the sunrise is fast approaching as all three of you settle to rest in one pile of blissful comfort, saving any worries, big or small, for later.

[ghostssweetgirl]

A Ghost's Promise (tooth-rotting fluff)

A/N - please excuse me, I've never been to a wedding, so I apologize if anything is inaccurate. But I thought this would be so sweet.

The main song choice for this is Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem reader (fluff)

Warnings: none, I think. Just don't let your heart melt, alright? :) maybe some curse words, but I don't think so. Let me know if I missed any.

WC: 2.4k~

Simon had proposed to you 6 months ago. It felt like something straight out of a movie, although it was unexpected at the time. You were at a lake, a beautiful one, surrounded by mountains, somewhere you were camping at. You were hunched over like a gremlin, looking at the cool rocks and stones. You found a shiny black stone, sat up and jumped in place, excited to gift it to Simon but as you turned around, you found him on one knee, eyes crinkled in a soft smile. Unmasked, with tears in his eyes, holding out a beautiful ring, too beautiful. A ruby, surrounded by skulls and roses, a black band. 

You couldn't speak, couldn't make a noise. You held your hand over your mouth as you smiled ear to ear, tears welling in your eyes. Your eyes met Simon's soft ones, a stray tear falling out of his left eye. He didn't even have to ask it, you were already sobbing.

"Yes! Oh, Simon, yes!" you cried, reaching out for him as he sat up, hugging you tightly. His hands rubbed your back, soothing you as the other hand placed the ring on your finger delicately, rubbing the back of your hand. You heard him sniffle as he kissed your forehead.

You pressed your face into his chest, unable to stop the happy tears from flowing. He laughed, which made you laugh, looking up at him to meet his eyes. Both of your wet eyes crinkling as you smile at each other lovingly. 

"I fucking love you," you spoke, your voice pitched as you're laughing, crying, smiling. 

"Yeah, I fuckin' love you," he chuckled. "S' much."

--

You think of him proposing to you, trying not to tear up while you're getting your makeup done before the big day, you'll officially be Mrs. Riley. That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Every cherished moment you've spent right beside him. Every date, especially the first date where he was stuttering while talking to you and all shy. You remembered the first time he revealed his face to you; you were in utter awe, wondering why he had hidden such a beautiful, gorgeous treasure from you for so long. 

You smirked, humming a laugh while the makeup artist tilted your head back to make the final touches. "Beautiful!" she chirped, proud of her work. 

You look in the mirror, examining the remarkably done work. A red and black smokey eye, cat-eye eyeliner with subtle mascara, to pair beautifully with your red and black gothic wedding dress. 

Your mom toddles along, smiling at seeing her daughter on her wedding day. Her eyes were wet, she'd been crying, her daughter really was all grown up now. "Oh, sweetie," she cupped your cheek. "I'm so proud of you and so happy for you."

"Thanks, mom," you smiled at her, tears threatening to prick your eyes while you tried to laugh it off.

"Let's go get you in your dress, shall we?" she suggested, helping you stand up. One of the workers walked up, asking if she could be of any help, your mother politely declined. 

--

You kept your eyes glued shut, not wanting to look in the mirror quite yet while your mom zipped up the back, fluffing the skirt, making sure it was all perfect. 

She sighed contently, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Ready to see how beautiful you look, angel?"

You sighed a deep breath, nervously chuckling before opening your eyes, seeing yourself in all your glory in the mirror before you. The blood red fabric under the black lace bodice, the beautiful pattern of the sleeveless lace-straps. The way the skirt barely poofed out slightly.

You felt like a princess, Simon's little princess. 

"Oh, wow," you remark, smirking in the mirror as you twirl around. Your mom laughs proudly, her voice hitching from tears.

"I just... I raised such a beautiful daughter. I love you! I can't wait to see this new chapter of your life."

"Mom, stop, you're going to make me cry," you pleaded. "I love you, too."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she wiped her tears. "Just can't believe it still."

Last minute, your father walked in, he proudly smiled, crossing his arms as he watches his once little girl, be all grown up on her wedding day. He was a quiet man, but you could feel the love from his soft gaze upon you.

--

Simon and Johnny were in his dressing room. Simon grumbled at Johnny while he was obsessively and neatly fixing every crinkle in his suit and straightening up his tie and sleeves of his shirt. 

"You nervous, Simon?" Soap asked, his voice soft and curious.

"Little bit," he lied, he was nervous as fuck. Obviously, he's never done this before. There were so many people here to witness your ceremony. Of course, he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you and that you were his, but being eyed by a lot of people made him incredibly nervous, understandably. But most of all, he was so nervous to see you and how elegantly beautiful you would look. He fears he may have a heart attack at the sight of you walking down the aisle.

Price shuffled into the room, cheering his cigar and beer to Simon. He smiled at Johnny, then back at Simon. "We're honored to be your best men," he nodded to Johnny. "And your groomsmen, Simon."

Simon nodded stoically, "Thank you, sir."

"Almost time," Johnny smiled, patting his best friend on the back, nodding at him in the mirror. "Yer goin' to do amazing, L.T. 'M so happy for you and y/n."

--

You were catching up with your bridesmaids, chit-chatting and squealing about how happy everyone was. You peek around a corner, and look at the venue. Oh, Simon...

He had set up such a beautiful theme for your outside wedding. Tables set up with black tablecloth draped over them, littered with beautiful arrays of matching dishes, translucent-black wine and champagne glasses scattered about, with beautiful dark candles lined up perfectly. Across the walkway, freesia flower petals scattered among it. So elegant.

Viewing the altar, you spot a black arch, wrapped with a red silk drape with roses across it. Your mouth fell agape as you took in everything. This is everything you could ever ask for and more. Soft, soothing music played in the background while everyone was getting into their seats.

Your maid of honor, your best friend, lightly tapped your shoulder. "He really loves you, you know... I mean, this is just... beautiful, y/n."

You smile whole-heartedly, meeting her eyes. "I know, I-I'm in disbelief, is this even real?"

"Yes, silly! You deserve it!" she wraps you in a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you, I can't explain it."

--

You soothe yourself by rubbing the back of your hand, nervousness setting over you as you watch the officiant walk down the aisle; it's about to start. You fix your posture and start taking deep breaths. Your best friend makes final touches, making sure you're looking as amazing as you should on your day. She's taking your attention off of Simon walking down the aisle to his place as his groomsmen follow not far behind. 

"You're so beautiful, it's going to be amazing," she whispered, cupping your face, before her and your bridesmaids go into their place.

Your father walks up, nodding at you, silently telling you 'it's time'. You lock your arm around his, as he sets still for a moment, cherishing this moment before he 'lets you go'.

--

As your father walks you down the aisle, everyone is smiling ear to ear, proudly as they keep intense eyes on you. You'd focus on them if possible, but seeing how handsome, how beautiful Simon looked, you could have burst into tears right then and there. This was really happening, and you were about to be able to finally call him your husband.

His breath hitched, a fiery lump burning in his throat as he attempts not to cry from seeing how beautiful you look; how proud he was to call you his. And here you are, walking to him. He's always been happy with you, but no moment compared to now. 

A song softly starts in the background, Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

Time slowed as you walked up to him, smiling at him proudly, also holding back tears. Your father lets your arm go as you finally approach your groom, standing directly in front of him, both of you all teary-eyed, happiness radiating off of each other vibrantly.

The officiant asks everyone to be seated as they had stood up, softly clapping for the two of you. 

"On behalf of Y/N and Simon, I would like to thank you all for being here this afternoon. For taking the time and making the journey, and for all the effort that it takes—not only to be a part of this day, but to be a part of each other’s lives," he paused. "Y/N and Simon have invited you here to this beautiful place to show you a glimpse of an important piece of their love. To share with you their journey through the past years of their relationship."

"I wish I could tell you a single story about Y/N and Simon that summarizes their relationship and how they enrich each other’s lives, and the lives of each of us, but the truth is there isn’t one single event that is a good encapsulation of what they mean to me, to each other, and to all of us. But what I do know is that both of them care deeply and passionately for each other; they protect each other; they make each other laugh and they think outside themselves; that time magically seems to both fly and slow down when they’re together. They help each other in ways that are obvious and unnoticed, but always appreciated."

If you weren't worried about not knowing what to do, and focused on what the officiant was saying, you could have gotten lost in Simon's eyes right then and there. You knew he loved you; but this, this... 

"As a third-party spectator to their developing love, it was extremely clear that the two of them represent a perfect pairing because each of them complements the other so well. They balance one another, and while each of them are tremendous individuals on their own, together they are even better. And being better together, as a team, a unit, and partners in crime, is what has been many years in the making and ultimately leads us to being here today, witnessing their commitment to one another in front of those they love most."

"So, without further ado."

"The symbolic vows that you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, “You know all those things we’ve promised and hoped and dreamed? Well, I meant it all, every word.” When you love someone, you do not love them all the time in exactly the same way. That is impossible. Yet that is what most of us expect. We forget the ebb and flow of life and of love and of relationships. We insist on permanence, on duration, on continuity. But in love, as in life, the only stability is in change, in growth, and in freedom. Therefore what you promise today must be renewed and reaffirmed tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come. The Bride and Groom have now prepared their own vows. Y/N… "

You gulp, and have to stop yourself from looking around the room. You softly clear your throat. 

"Simon..." you smiled.

"I always thought it would be difficult to find someone who will love me when I'm always scattered in a thousand pieces.

It's like trying to complete a puzzle when you don't even know if you have all the right pieces. But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful.

That love can exist in the most imperfect lost and broken people And I promise you that love will be just as beautiful, if you're in a thousand pieces or just one."

You could see his Adam apple bob as he cleared his throat. You saw a stray tear fall out of his eye. Dammit, he's going to make you cry!

"Y/N," he cleared his throat again, shifting in his step.

"I didn't fall in love with you I walked into love with you with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway.

And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you, and I'd choose you."

"Having considered all of these things, Simon, do you promise again to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

"I do," he reassured softly.

"Y/N, do you promise again to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

You smile, nodding eagerly. "I do."

"No one but you can declare yourselves married. You have begun it here today in speaking your vows before your family and friends, and you will do it again in the days and years to come, standing by each other, sharing the highs and lows of life. Go forth and live each day to the fullest." the officiant spoke. "You may now kiss the bride."

The officiant stepped away, your hands locked with Simon's before he pulled you into the most passionate kissed you've ever experienced, your first kiss as husband and wife. Your tears fell hard, falling down your cheeks over your pressed lips. The kiss dove deeper, his hand caressed the small of your back as he took a deep breath, having to pull back before he got carried away.

"Mr. and Mrs. Riley!" the officiant whooped, holding his hands up in celebration. The crowd cheered for you, and you could hear Johnny, Price, your best friend and bridesmaids screaming and shouting happily. 

You both smile ear to ear, your arm locked in his as you walk back down the aisle - together. You make eye contact with your parents, your stoic dad allowing a few tears to fall, your mom sobbing heavily yet smiling. 

--

As the night went on, you experienced your first dance together. Your head lay on his chest as you sway back and forth, comforted by the slow pace of his heartbeat. Lost in your own world, you look up at your husband.

"Simon?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"I love you. I'm so glad to have you. Forever isn't long enough..." 

"I know. I know. I love you, babe." He held your head flush to his chest, rubbing your soft hair. 

--

A/N - Alright I really didn't know how to end this, but WAS IT GOOD?! I hope so 🥺😭

[twst-drabbles]

Riddle 16

Summary: Now the time comes for Riddle to hibernate. For whatever reason, the Roseling made it a habit to sleep last.

(Oh so gentle, oh so sweet. It's hilarious, how when I crave to write something horrible, I write fluff instead.)

Snow had been falling for a while now. It blankets your house in a smooth white sheet, only a few centimeters thick. Nothing really worth shoveling up or playing in. It’s more suiting to just recline back in a comfy chair and relax by the fire. With the birds leaving their nests empty, the trees long having retreated their vitality, there’s this odd feeling that somehow you were stuck in time.

Of course, that’s not the case, not with Riddle struggling to not fall asleep in your hands. You leaned down and exhaled a hot breath over his body. Sleepily, he smacked you on the chin through the fog.

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, “forgot to brush my teeth this morning.”

Your breath probably smells horrible and you’d hope the cold would somehow dull it. Though, that’s not how scents work, huh?

As you walked through the garden, all bundled up in a nice coat and a blanket just because you could, Riddle was resisting the urge to sleep. He sits in your palm, grabbing your fingers to keep his balance, but you can see his head bobbing up and down.

“Really Riddle,” you said as you opened the door to the temporary greenhouse, “you don’t have to force yourself. You guys need to rest and it’s not like I’ll be lonely. I have plenty of company.”

Riddle’s rose, a rather large plant that continues to grow, now at shoulder height to you, was open and ready to accept its other very sleepy half. Below the large flowing petals were four other roses, all of them tightly closed with the other plant nymphs that couldn’t keep awake.

This place was certainly warmer compared to the sharp winds outside, but not enough to have them awaken early. You just needed some decent shelter in case a storm of any kind comes in.

You shrugged, “I suppose it’s my fault for entertaining you.” There was a mirth to your tone. “To sleep with you, Riddle.”

You stretched your hand to the center of the open rose, but no matter how gentle the motion was, it still causes Riddle to stumble forward and bump his head against your fingers. He shoved himself back, as though shocked away as he shook his head. He took a moment to look around, adjust the petals of his body before standing in all his glory.

“Well?” You said, subtly pushing his back with your thumb, “Get some shut eye. I’ll be here when you all wake up.”

The Roseling turned to you, face scrunched up in the way he does when being told what he has already set out to do. But there was no fire to it. Poor little guy was so sleepy, he looked like he could fall right over.

Riddle took a step down with a huff, but stopped. His head inclined down, then he turned to you, giving you a flash of puppy eyes before he caught himself and looked forward.

You snorted but didn’t say a thing. Riddle took another step, then another, then finally hopped off your fingers like a diving board, landing safely and softly in the rose he was born from. The petals were so thick and fluffed up it nearly swallowed him. Only his head was visible.

“Have a good night, Riddle.”

Until spring comes, Roseling.

[j-eryewrites]

Come Home

MAIN MASTERLIST

Pairing: (Ominis Gaunt x Reader)

Song: Willow Tree March by The Paper Kites

Concept: What if Ominis’ aunt didn’t die in the Scriptorium and instead left the Gaunt family? What if Ominis went to go live with his aunt in America?

Author’s Note: Starting to finally calm down in my busy life and have a little bit of time to write. I had this idea while listening to the song and I couldn’t help but write it. Ominis, my poor baby, deserves to be happy so I wrote a fic where he does get to be happy. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

It had only been a few months since he left. Ominis Gaunt in all his magnificent glory was taken away from his rotten family to live with his aunt in America. Of course, Sebastian and I were overjoyed for him for we knew the true harshness that came with being a Gaunt. Ominis was a kind and gentle soul, so undeserving of his family's cruelty and hatred. So, it made complete sense as to why I should be happy for him. His aunt who was just like him was alive. His only loving and caring familial relation was alive and well and wanting to save him from the very family she ran from. Yet…I believe that Sebastian, Anne, and I were Ominis’s family. We kept him safe and sane all those years. I held him in the undercroft. We laughed with him and played the horrific game of gobstones. Hogwarts was our home, and we were a family, but now he’s gone. 

I remember that fateful day we all saw him off to America. His leather suitcase in hand and hair styled so neatly that no matter how many times I ran my fingers through it it would never change. I knew I’d see Ominis again. I knew we’d write every day, but he was my family and he was leaving. I’d no longer see him next to me in History of Magic dozing off or have his companionship when I went to raid the kitchens late at night. No longer would Ominis dawn his Hogwarts uniform, but instead dawn the one of Ilvermorny. He was going to make new friends. He was going to make a new family. And just as I knew we’d always be friends, he’d move on because that is what happens with life; It moves on and so do you. 

So that’s what I tried to do, move on. Of course, moving on worked just like that day we had blast-ended skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures. Sebastian knew I wasn’t faring well without Ominis, but I knew he was hurting just the same. Natty tried her best to cheer me up. We’d go for walks in the forbidden forest or grab a butterbeer or two from the Three Broomsticks. Poppy comforted me in her own manner and in doing so my collection of rescued magical creatures grew. Yet no matter how much butterbeer I drank, flights over the castle I took, or magical creatures I rescued, the hole Ominis left could never be filled. 

I almost began to think that the hole would never be filled. 

_____

“No Garreth, you aren’t listening. You’ve got to give each of the mallowsweet plants three drops of the water and fertilizer mixture,” I chuckled as I pushed myself onto Garreth’s station. My legs swung back and forth and I observed the red head’s careful measuring. He may have a reputation in potions, but I refuse to let that reputation bleed into herbology. 

Garreth gave me a hearty laugh as his hands carefully distributed the mixture to the mallowsweets. 

“Good,” I smiled before patting him on the head. 

“Merlin, Y/N,” Garreth said, “I’m not one of your puffskein.” Garreth set down the mixture before sending me a smirk. 

“Well, if you're not a puffskein, then why does your hair look like one. Don’t you see how puffy your locks are?” I fluffed up Garreth’s hair and styled it to look exactly like the small furry creatures. 

“Hey, hey not the hair,” Garreth whined. 

“ Sorry, forgive me, good sir,” I sarcastically said, “I don’t want to ruin your chances with Miss Imelda Reyes.”

Garreth rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know that I am not infatuated with Imel–”

It was a strange occurrence. One moment I’m teasing Garreth until his ears turn pink and the next it’s like I’ve lost my breath. My heart clenches and leaps forward and my hair stands up. My ears are no longer listening to Garreth as the voice in my mind grows louder and louder. 

Run. Run. Run. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Garreth asked.

I look down at Garreth. “He’s here,” I mutter. Snapping out of my daze, I jump down from the desk. “Garreth, mind taking my stuff back to the common room for me? I have to–I just–I’ve got to go.” 

I don’t give Garreth time to respond before I’m out of the herbology classroom. I vaguely hear Garreth and Professor Garlick calling after me but my mind, heart, and soul are tuned to the sound of another song: he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

The halls of Hogwarts pass me by as I dash down the stairs and across the stone floors. With nothing in my way, my legs take me farther and faster. It’s as if I’ve drunk a potion of speed. The beat of the song grows louder the longer I run. I have no clue where I’m running, but I know where to go. I’m going to him wherever he is. 

_____

“Don’t go,” I whispered. My hand is in between his cold palms. 

“She’s my family.” Ominis said the words like they were law. 

“What about Sebastian, Anne, and I?” I asked. “I thought we were your family.”

Ominis opened and closed his mouth while his milky white eyes darted around. “It’s not the same.”

“But it is. You are my family. Please Ominis. I’ve already lost Professor Fig and almost lost Sebastian. I can’t lose you too.” I began to cry. I am not sure why, but I always seemed to cry in the Astronomy tower. 

The stars were beautiful that night as Ominis tried to comfort me with vague promises. My hands were no longer in his, but now clutching his robes with an intensity I never knew I had. It was if I were to let go, he’d disappear. When I did let go the next morning, Ominis did vanish. He stepped on that boat and was gone. 

_____

The cobbled stone of the pathway beneath my feeling echoed the sound of my boots. The early afternoon autumn sun beat down on my figure, inducing a sweat on my brow. Lacewing flies buzzed to the side as the faint sounds of the forbidden forest chirped in my ears. 

Odd looks passed my way as I darted between wizards and witches promenading along the road. Nothing was going to stop me from where I was going–where I needed to be. 

Soon I passed through Hogsmeade. The smells of candy and butterbeer crept into my senses. Each experience reminded me of him, of where I was running.

As the song grew louder, my feet ran faster, and my breath grew heavier. As I run, I can’t think of a time when I ran this fast without my life on the line. I ran too much during my 5th year at Hogwarts. I ran from goblins, poachers, and villains. I ran from myself and those I loved. I ran and ran and ran. I hated running yet here I was running once more. But this time I was running to something. I was running for something. 

The song grew quiet. The urge to run faded. My feet stopped at the train station. Steam was still coming out from the head of the train. People stepped off and filled the station. My lungs heaved as I remembered to breathe. My eyes scanned over the crowd. I knew he’d be here. I believed. 

People dispersed as they found their loved ones. Kisses were exchanged and hugs were given to those reunited. Each scene made my heart yearn. More and more people left, the more I grew worried. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I ran for no reason. Maybe I ran here just to run away. Maybe in my delusion and aching, I cried out for Ominis when he couldn’t hear me. Maybe…

There was no one at the station anymore. My breath collected and the sweat on my forehead cooled. It was just me in my uniform and the train about to depart. He was supposed to be here. 

A noise came from behind me. It was either a cough or a grunt, I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to have misheard. My head turned around and there he was. 

Ominis with his dirty blonde hair and star-kissed face stood on the platform in front of me. His eyes were nervous as he held his wand in front of him. In his other hand held his luggage. 

For a moment neither of us said anything. I knew he knew I was there, just as I knew. I felt my heart skip and my face heat up at the sight of him. He was just as beautiful as the day he left. 

“Y/N?” Ominis whispered. It was as if he didn’t dare to speak aloud, scared to break the dream.

“Y/N, I’m–” I silenced Ominis with a hug. My arms squeezed tight as my head buried itself into his chest. Ominis’s luggage dropped to the platform and his hand now free wrapped around me with as much vigor as I hugged him. He was here. His heartbeat underneath my ear beating faster than mine. His breath was on the crown of my head. Ominis was home and now so was I.

“You’re home,” I cried into his chest. 

“I’m home,” Ominis soothed. “And I’m here to stay.” 

I pull back from the hug and give him a look of disbelief. “What about your Aunt?” 

Ominis chuckled. His foggy eyes float over my face. “All she asked for was my summer holidays. Other than that I’m yours. After all, Hogwarts is my home.” 

My laugh sniffles my tears of joy. “Well then,” I said, “Let’s get you back to Hogwarts. I’m sure everyone is intrigued as to where I ran off to. After all, I did run out of herbology to find you.” 

His eyes widened at my confession. “What about–”

“Doesn’t matter now that you’re here,” I smiled before locking his arm with mine. Once his luggage was back in his hand, the two of us left the station, loving smiles on our faces, hands held together with Hogwarts in our sights. 

_____

Taglist: @bartokthealbinobat

[palabraasinnecesarias]

ranma/akane

this one is about a drunk ranma lmao but i've also had this one dusting so here i am letting it see the light of day (just simple moments between the two)

She knew it wouldn’t be a good idea for Ranma to go drinking with Mr. Saotome and her father – especially when Grandfather Happosai was a part of the tag-along package deal – but there wasn’t much she could insist when it came to proving just how much of a “man” he could be by outdrinking all his elders. Her reckless fiancé was a stubborn mind, and although he usually managed to pull through, that night it was proven that some battles he was just meant to lose.  

All the women of the Tendo household drowsily dragged their feet down the flight of stairs to unwillingly welcome the men back home, noting it was well past midnight, and all but one appearing as though they were to be sick. Grandfather Happosai had been the man to survive whatever drinking-game that had come about, and easily waltz in full glory as a prideful grin stamped his cheek, continuously making a mockery of the situation.  

Akane felt her pulsing temples, slightly upset at the whole ordeal pitifully displaying two grown men with the newly high school graduate clearly drunk.  

The young teen watched as her oldest sister gasped in disbelief when seeing her father in such an unwell state, just before she and Nabiki latched onto him and took him to bed. Auntie Saotome giggled lightly, breathing what seemed to express a breath of relief as she reached for her husband and glancing over at Akane, “Oh, men.” Without another word she made her way up the stairs, Mr. Saotome’s arm hooked behind her neck for support, willingly following every step she took.  

In a matter of minutes, Akane found herself alone with what seemed to be boastful Ranma Saotome grinning towards her, his body trying to keep itself composed, and very obviously failing. His body slightly wobbled left and right, and his cheeks blushed variations of red up and down his neck, a clear indication that he was heated up due to the alcohol.  

What he was smiling about, she didn’t know, but couldn't deny that she was curious.  

She crossed her arms across her chest, prodding an eyebrow upwards in such an expected way, he found himself chuckling dryly.  

“You’re such a dork,” she found herself thinking out loud, a smirk of her own tugging the corner of her mouth, just before she came to the realization that she was left to mend after him.  

“I beat them,” he grinned, his bragging tone high and mighty. Was he so drunk he didn’t think he was intoxicated at all?  

“Oh, yeah? Walk to me,” Akane demanded as she stood no more than four feet away from him. The challenge gleamed across her eyes, and who was he to turn down such an opportunity to prove her wrong.  

Without missing a beat, Ranma lifted his foot with the simple intention of walking but just a couple of steps towards her when the young martial artist went tumbling down.  

The loud thud only made her want to laugh at him, but instead, the dark-haired girl reached down and did her best to take him into the family room. He was still conscious, which helped settle him on the floor, using some cushions to prompt his head up.  

“Seriously,” Akane groaned as she fluffed the round cushion, “you just had to go along with their antics.”  

“I needed to prove myself!”  

She simply rolled her eyes, because when it came to Ranma, everything was a challenge. “You certainly did not,” she sighed, amused at every outrageous (and sometimes grotesque) situations he always seemed to place himself in. Although, this one was definitely one of the more normal ones.  

“Why is it so hot?” His words slurred, but she managed to understand him well. He scrunched his eyes together, the palm of his hand suddenly slapping his cheek before dragging itself up to push the oversized fringe of bangs draping over his view. He didn’t seem to be in pain, rather the very opposite comportment to just moments ago.  

She reached her own hand to feel his cheek, and then his forehead, feeling his sweat against her skin. “Just how much did you and dad drink?” She asked no one in particular.  

 She pushed herself up and walked into the kitchen to find Nabiki getting a glass of water. “How’s dad?”  

“Father started puking,” Nabiki responded very nonchalantly, rolling her eyes at the way Akane’s eyes widen before she explained further, “he just had too much to drink, dummy. Nothing to worry about. Although, technically, he could have choked on his own vomit were we not there to help him settle into bed.” Kasumi had done the best she could to clean their father and his bed, and Nabiki was just getting him some water. He was in great hands, but she couldn't not be worried.  “Just keep an eye on that fiancé of yours. I don’t know how much he drank compared to daddy.”  

Akane winced at the way the word fiancé smoothly slid through Nabiki’s teeth; she pushed past it to find what her sister was saying to be true. She didn’t want Ranma to sleep on a puddle of his own throw up, and definitely didn’t want to risk him choking on it.  

She returned with a small kitchen towel that she had run under the cool water, and a glass of water, just in case he needed it. She quickly pressed the fresh cloth against his skin and gently dragged it up to press and rest on his forehead, a thin smile spreading as his body flinched at the unexpected gesture.  

Akane found herself comfortable as she watched him drift off into a slumber, wondering whether she was going to try and carry him up the stairs or wake him. He was breathing deeply, she noted, as his wide chest rose steadily up and down. He seemed so serene, finding him quite cute when he wasn’t talking out his ass. She scoffed a light laughter, her hand twitching at wanting to bonk his head silly.  

Her hand reached over to push chunks of his fringe away from his face, noting he needed a trim as the tips seem to be reaching the bridge of nose.  

"You’re so dumb,” she found herself muttering, shaking her head in disbelief, although not completely surprised to be the one tending after him.  

“God, ‘Kane,” he grunted lowly, quickly and easily startling her as she believed him to be unconscious, “can’t you ever be nice to me.”  

She scoffed, nervously pushing strands of her own hair behind her ear frantically hoping she wasn’t caught watching him sleep in the way she was admiring him. “I’ll gladly start when you start,” she found herself challenging the drunk teen, not really thinking anything would come out of the interaction, but desperately wanting to rile him into some sort of distraction.  

“I’m always nice to you!”  

She scoffed again, aware that he truly did believe he was nice to her; there were times he might have unintentionally expressed generous comments about her, but they were never to be nice, they were simply happy accidents on her account.  

“Like when?”  

She was looking down at him, still lying on the floor with the damp towel on the upper half of his face hoping it covered his sight completely. She could see him thinking, trying to muster something – anything – up just to prove his point. And she found it amusing, letting the seconds slide as she watched him groan with irritation.  

“I’ve saved you multiple times, ya’ know!”  

Akane dry laughter must have caused some sort of reaction because Ranma was now trying to sit up, holding the damped towel in a soft grip.  

“Ranma, that wasn’t you being nice, that was you being a decent human being. Also,” she said as she watched him successfully slouch forward, his eyes still half-lidded with a light overlay of blush at the apples of his cheeks, “go ahead and drink some water. It should help sober you up.”  

He glanced at her for a few seconds, silent before looking over at the almost full glass of water she held in her hand, reaching over to him. He took it and gulped all of it down, without hesitation and gently placed the cup down on the floor with them.  

“Thank you,” he found himself saying quietly, keeping the ambience steady, not realizing just how thirsty he actually had been, and just how incredible the water felt when it flushed down his throat and splashed the inside of his chest.  

Akane found herself smiling at the way he thanked her. “Are you ready to go to bed?”  

Ranma’s eyes widen abnormally large, his mouth opening slightly before shutting it tight with the intention of swallowing the knot choking him. “I’m sure Auntie Saotome’s waiting for you,” she continued, her following statement calming him immensely before coming to the realization at where his mind had gone to in mere seconds.  

“C’mon,” she offered, getting up from her knees and stretching both her arms towards him offering him a boost up, thinking he was probably too weak to try and stand up. Although, this was ranma, after all. He was never too weak for anything, “I’m dying for you to wake up with such a massive headache in the morning and blame anyone but yourself.”  

She grinned mischievously down at him, expecting him to minimum stick his tongue out at her as a defense, but all he did was remind her, “I am nice to ya’, I just can’t remember.”  

“Yeah, well maybe you could be nicer.”  

“Like how?” 

Was he genuinely asking?  

“I don’t know Ranma, just be sweet, I guess.”  

“Sweet, huh?”  

Akane crouched down, sitting on her bottom on the floor but keeping her knees bent, knitting her eyebrows together as she watched him intensely. “Ranma,” she said to him in a calm voice, half-taunting, half-curious what he was babbling about, “you’re drunk. Go to bed.”  

“You look beautiful, ya’ know.”  

She wasn’t expecting that. “Uh.” Was he messing with her? Was he taunting her? Poking fun? Still, she needed to do something about the absurd reddening of her face to his comment. “It shouldn't be forced,” she found herself replying to him. She knew he was probably expecting some sort of thank you, but she didn’t know if she wanted to give him one.  

“It’s not.” He fought back, his eyebrows indenting together, bothered that she didn’t believe him. 

“Well,” Akane sighed, “kinda’ feels like you said it to prove a point, rather than because it came from the heart.”  

“Well,” Ranma said, leaning slightly forward towards her, and although he wasn’t that close, she could still smell the alcohol in his breath that reminded her he was indeed intoxicated as he reminded her, “I don’t lie.”  

She pursed her lips pondering to herself, wondering what this was all about. “Okay,” she found herself saying something out loud.  

“Now you say something nice about me.”  

Akane laughed again, “This isn’t how it works.”  

“So,” he retorted, “we don’t always have to follow the rules.”  

“Yeah, but just because you said something nice doesn’t mean I owe you something in return.”  

“Aw, c’mon, I said you were cute.”  

“No,” she grinned, “you said I look beautiful.”  

“That was nice of me, huh?”  

“God, you’re such a dork.” She wanted to frown at him, but the corners of her mouth were not willingly pushing down, and instead she pushed him away; not harshly, just a gentle nudge that nonetheless forced him to lean back down as she said, “I’m going to bed.”  

“Wait,” he called after her, but she didn’t stop for him, not caring if he couldn’t get himself up the stairs. “’Kane, be nice!”  

“Goodnight, Ranma.”  

[cibeeorsomeshit]

Stolitz Week 2024

A/N: Continuation from the day one prompt, but probably can be read as a standalone as well.

Day Two: Hurt/Comfort; Chocolate/Candy (ao3)

Why are you anxious? Maybe because you're drinking shitty coffee and smoking cigarettes with your sort-of crush at three a.m.

Blitzø had never been able to tolerate sweets. Fizz would often find pockets of time between practices and performances to visit the cotton candy machine and joke with whoever was in charge of it, hoping they would give him a sweet cloud. Barbie would pick up any candies dropped around the circus ground by visitors and hid them in her dress. Mom only ate sweet pastries for breakfast, and Blitzø remembered how she always ended her night with a hot cup of cinnamon and brown sugar milk, the heat and smell of it so vivid even now Blitzø reacted to the spice like someone cutting onions.

Give him hard liquor. Bitter coffee with only ice cubes to soften it. Once at a club a guy bought him a fruity cocktail thinking that would lead to his cock getting inside of Blitzø. Blitzø drank it, because booze was booze, but he definitely didn’t let the guy anywhere near his hole.

And yet here he was, three a.m., with Stolas at an all night joint that only served coffee and some sort of goop that could either be scramble eggs or a really unfortunate looking donut. Blitzø had texted him in a moment of feverish vulnerability and immediately wanted to delete the message, but Stolas, as usual, read his text right away.

The little speech bubble was so hypnotizing that Blitzø nearly went cross-eyed at how hard he was staring at it. He was expecting a polite refusal, or maybe some sort of confused inquiry of why he would join Blitzø when the last time they saw each other Blitzø broke his end of the deal by sleeping in Stolas’ bed without dicking him down first.

But Stolas only asked where to meet Blitzø. Blitzø chose a place out in the edge of Imp City where not even the homeless went because even they weren’t this sad with their lives. He had thought that would change Stolas’ mind, but again, Stolas simply replied he would be there in ten.

And there he was, not even ten minutes later, in all his royal glory (wearing a simple sweater and pants yet still somehow looked more put-together than Blitzø in his best suit ever was). The server working behind the counter went from dozing to full-alert real quick, stammering something that might be construed (a word he learned from Moxxie) as a formal greeting. Stolas nodded absentmindedly at him, his eyes already on Blitzø, feathers fluffing out in pleasure as he walked over and sat down.

Blitzø had to force a giant gulp of scalding coffee down his throat to mask — whatever was going on on his face.

“I thought you hated hot coffee,” Stolas asked. He was moving around in the seat to find a position that could fit his long limbs without jostling Blitzø under the table. Blitzø extended his leg and gently bumped his boot into Stolas. Stolas smiled, and wordlessly let his legs stretch comfortably under the table, tangling with Blitzø’s swinging legs.

“They didn’t have —” before Blitzø could finish his sentence, the server hastily presented a glass of ice cubes to him. Blitzø gave him a dirty look but didn’t say anything. He bet the guy would cook up something that wasn’t even in their kitchen if Stolas wanted.

Stolas just asked for coffee and whatever they were serving that night. When the food came Stolas poked at it gingerly with a straw and left it be.

Blitzø waited for the questions. When should they make up for the last full moon? Did Blitzø bring the book with him today, since last time Blitzø was so out of it he forgot? Did he not know how super-duper-fucking-trouper important that book was for his duties? Why did Blitzø leave before Stolas woke up when he hadn’t done that in so long?

The self-induced stress was enough to make Blitzø dig out his crumbled pack of cigarettes. Stolas wasn’t even talking, he was just humming some tune to himself, not chattering away for once. Maybe it was the night. Maybe it was the unusual invitation. Maybe Stolas just knew him better than Blitzø thought and could tell he wasn’t in the mood for talking.

Blitzø lit a cigarette and took a deep, long drag. He could feel Stolas looking at him, heavy and heady and with the faint waft burning parchment papers. He thought everyone felt it wherever Stolas turned his gaze onto them, but Moxxie called him crazy. Millie just smiled with all her teeth, and Loona said they both smelled gross when they looked at each other.

Stolas’ coffee hadn’t arrived yet, probably because the guy was making it with french press or some fancy shit instead of pouring days-old coffee from their rusty pot, so Blitzø offered his own coffee, which Stolas refused, and a cigarette, which Stolas gladly accepted. The table didn’t have an ashtray so they put it out on the scramble-egg-donut until it was a spiky scramble-egg-donut. All the while they didn’t say a word. Stolas looked completely at ease and Blitzø couldn’t help his tail that wrapped around Stolas’ legs under the table.

Finally Stolas’ coffee arrived. It smelled like actual coffee and not the brown water in Blitzø’s mug, though Stolas ruined it immediately by pouring five packs of sugar in it and stirring it daintily with a finger.

“How do you even drink that?” Those were the first words uttered in nearly twenty minutes, and his voice was rough from the smoking. Stolas took a sip, hooting softly and happily.

“I like it sweet,” Stolas said simply. “I would order a mocha but I doubt they have it.” And he laughed at Blitzø’s expression, pushing his mug toward Blitzø. “Have a try.”

“Fuck no.”

“Come on!”

“I rather drink piss.”

Stolas huffed and took his mug back. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Ha!” Blitzø croaked. “You’re calling me dramatic?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t, did I?”

Blitzø lit another cigarette. The fluorescent strip lights over them flickered every now and then, crackling like dying insects. The only other sounds were the exhale of smoke between them. The server had disappeared at some point. The streets outside were dark and silent, the twisting and tittering buildings so dense that the shine of the red sky was unable to peek through.

“Do you want the book back?” Blitzø finally asked, accompanied by a large puff of smoke.

Stolas blinked at him with all four eyes. “What makes you think so?”

“Because we didn’t — last time. I didn’t —” Blitzø retracted his tail and wrapped it around himself instead. “I broke the deal.”

“Oh, darling.” Stolas leaned forward and took away his cigarette, stubbing it out with a pinch. “Do you think I was upset? Do you think I’m upset?”

“I mean.” Blitzø couldn’t understand Stolas’ reaction. “Yes?”

“Seeing you on the full moon hasn’t been about the book in a long time.” Stolas traced the white scars on Blitzø’s hand, and clarified as an afterthought, “For me.”

“So you don’t want to continue this squid pro quote shit anymore?”

Stolas leaned his cheek in his palm and smiled adoringly at Blitzø. “I’m assuming you mean quid pro quo?”

“Whatever. That.”

“Hm, I think I would rather we switch to more of an omnia tibi situation.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means.”

“It means I will give you everything you want.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Any normal being would have looked like shit under fluorescent lights. Blitzø was pretty sure his dark circles were on full blast in this light, but Stolas’ heart-shaped face glowed. “Blitzø,” Stolas started to say. The hand he was leaning on squished his face a bit, endearing in a mystifying way. “Why do you think I’m here right now? It certainly isn’t for the coffee.”

That was a confrontation he was avoiding since he texted Stolas earlier.

“I have a sneaking feeling you think I wouldn’t choose to be with you just to be with you.” Stolas finished his coffee. “You can have the book whenever you need with no strings attached, no something for something, because I like you.”

Blitzø’s heart was doing some freaky twitching he wasn’t used to. “You like me.”

Stolas almost seemed offended by Blitzø’s deadpan response. “Well, it’s not very hard to like you, is it? I like your company. I like your cute face. I like your humor. I like your taste in clothing — there’s just a lot to like! And whatever part of you that you seemed to view as intolerable matters very little to me compared to how much I like you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Blitzø stood up in his seat. “You have crap taste. You drink coffee with sugar.”

“I’ve been told I’m very smart.” Stolas leaned back in his seat. “And if you give it a try, you might like it as well.”

“And if I don’t?” Blitzø rested a knee on the table.

“Then I will simply have to accept that.” Stolas smiled like he was falling. And Blitzø was falling too. Forward. Downward. But mostly forward.

Stolas’ long limbs wrapped around Blitzø like it went on forever. Blitzø’s tail wrapped around them and they were so close. In this shitty all-nighter joint with squeaky chairs and bad coffee that should make anyone want to kill themselves for choosing to spend their night here, but Stolas was here and he caught Blitzø in his arms. Blitzø was here and he decided to fall forward.

It was pretty fucking scary. It was also pretty fucking sweet.

(Day One) ← →(Day Three)

[chickensarentcheap]

It's been too long since I last sent you a nice little flower arrangement!

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Thank you so much!! ❤️

“Did I say you could get out of bed? That you could put clothes on? There’s a strict ‘no clothes allowed’ rule in this room. Once that door closes…”

“I know what Millie’s like; if she wakes up in the middle of the night. She’ll come looking for me.  And the last thing we need is her seeing both of us in all  our naked glory.” Slipping and shrugging into her pyjamas, she snags his discarded sweats from the floor and tosses them in his direction.  “And don’t do that. Deflect.  Answer my question.”

“I’m old.”  He grimaces as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly as he puts one leg into the pants, followed by the other. Then stands to pull them up. “ My brain is mush. I already forgot what the question was.”

“I asked why you are the way you are. When it comes to me and other men.  Why do you always get so bent out of shape about it?”

“I don’t get bent out of shape.”

“You do.” Removing her hair out of the back of her tank top, she moves back to bed; fluffing and moulding her pillows and then arranging them to her specification.  “And I don’t get it.  There’s nothing for you to get prickly about.”

“Like you don’t get prickly about my ex-wife. Or Delaney.”

***

@tragiclyhip @munstysmind @themaradwrites @thebejeweledwatercat @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @ninjasawakenedmystar @kmc1989 @karimac @asirensrage @residentdormouse @mrsmungus @alisbackalleybbq and anyone else who reads/supports :)

[wolvesandfoxes25]

The truth will out.

"I have a question for you, Geralt?" Jaskier asked, his face pinched up in aggravation.

"Hm?"

The bard spun around, his fingers in their signature formation, shifting into an O.

"Is there a reason why you're giving me these piteous looks?" He all but snapped out, moving a piece of brown hair behind one ear.

Geralt was taken aback... almost flushing at being called out.

He hadn't meant, per say, to do what he was being accused of...but looking back now he realized he kinda had.

"What are you on about?"

Jaskier chuckled, no humor anywhere to be found.

"I'm no fool, Geralt. I know you've spent 20+ years thinking me one, but piss off with that accusation."

Geralt sat down, eyes taking in the fluffed up form of the brunette.

"Jaskier. If I've offended you, I truly apologize." He replied as heartfelt as possible. Which, for him, was a low growl, but... semantics.

"Thank you for the apology, but it doesn't negate the fact that you've been doing it. Now, my acrimonious friend, do enlighten me."

Geralt had always known about the other mans...affinity for him. How could he not?

Jaskier wasn't exactly subtle.

"Is it because you know I wanna fuck you?"

Geralt felt like he'd been slapped.

"Honestly, I stumble upon two people a day I'd like to fuck. So, what? Why the looks?"

Silence.

"Have you seen yourself? Your arse is a thing of glory, as I've said before."

Jaskier waved that statement off like he was shooing a fly.

Gaining his... albeit lack of words, Geralt crossed his arms.

"No. Well, in a way, it is regarding that." He grumbled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, eyes drifting down to his laced cuff.

Silence.

"I know you care for me." He whispered, knowing his friend would hear.

Jaskier froze, fingers clenching together.

A long, grinding silence filled the cabin and Geralt hated it.

Finally...

"Ah, I see. Poor, pathetic Jaskier, always running after the unattainable. In this case... you." He grit out between clenched teeth, blue eyes flashing.

Geralt glared, getting to his feet.

"I didn't think that for one second, Jask."

Jaskiers glare deepened..."Don't fucking call me that, godsdamn you. S-Stop looking at me like that!"

The Witcher grit his teeth, trying like fuck to reign his temper back to its confine.

"Did Yennefer give you this tidbit of information?" He demanded.

Geralt didn't answer.

She had... at one point mentioned it.

He hadn't replied to her, not wanting to use that topic to... gossip. It wasn't any of her business, and his silence let her know that.

"She did. I fucking knew it. The two of you enjoy a good laugh at my expense?"

Geralt glowered now.

"How little you think of me." He hissed.

Jaskier glared, blue eyes full of discomfort and embarrassment.

"How little you think of the fairy, huh? Sullies your witcher name for a person with a cock to love you? Sorry, I left my cunt back in Oxenfurt."

Turning to leave in a huff, he felt a big, heavy hand clamp onto his wrist.

"Unhand me, you brutish lout of a man!"

Geralt did, setting him firmly against the door.

The two of them stared at each other in the dim light of the shitty cabin, both of them breathing heavy in the night air.

Geralt watched his chest rise and fall beneath his coat, lips pinched together in fury.

"I never meant to judge you, Jaskier."

Silence.

"Well, the 'woe is him, poor piteous little dandelion' has been permanently plastered upon your face for days now. And I would really appreciate it if you'd stop." Jaskier choked out, looking like it was physically painful to say those words to the other male.

Silence.

"I can't help the way I feel, alright? I've tried for years to.. to.. deny what I feel. To push you out and away from my very essence, but I fucking can't!"

He spat out those words like acid in his throat and Geralt felt them like acid across his face, stunning even him into silence.

Jaskier looked like a caged animal when he moved to leave again. But Geralt gripped him again, forcing him back into place.

The brunette pushed at him furiously, but Geralt didn't relent, trapping him.

Two sets of eyes locked... and Geralt felt near possessed when his hand reached up and cupped his bards face.

Blue eyes widened at the action, his lips trembling, chest rising and falling like he'd run away from a monster.

Maybe it was Geralt he was running from mentally.

It was too late, wasn't it? To let Jaskier know?...

Jaskier pushed his hand away with trembling fingers and all but ran out of the cabin.

Geralt stood there, feeling foolish.

The end. Or... to be continued?

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Arc 2, Reflections

So, I had some... strong opinions about some of Wildbow's choices in the Interlude 2 Live Reactions.

That's going to happen. I don't always agree with or like or even really 'accept' the choices of creators sometimes. I bitch about them. Happens. They don't necessarily mean much about my broader opinions about the creator as a creator, and they definitely don't mean anything about what I think about them as a person.

I don't know Wildbow, and I'm not likely to. Whatever he's like as a person, I don't know. As a writer, he's obviously talented, dedicated, and somehow able to churn out words at a disturbingly fast pace. He's also made choices I don't agree with (I've never met a creator that doesn't) or like or think were really the best choices he could have made with the characters/story. But so what? It's his work.

Doesn't mean I don't like Worm. 2 Arcs in, and I still do.

Anyway, the point is, the occasional bitching about Wildbow and his choices, or the Sequel to Worm that Really Should Not Be Named don't represent some sort of 'I hate Worm and Wildbow' thing.

Anyway - as for Arc 2 itself, it's good. It does feel a little fluffed up, there's definitely some parts of 2.1, 2.3 and 2.4 that could have been cut, or condensed, but it's not so bad that it substantively or really even noticeably detracts from the arc.

Arc 2 is clearly both establishing for Taylor why she's going to make the choice to join up with these villains despite her stated desire to be a hero, the desire that has motivated her for three months, kept her going, and why we the readers should see this as reasonable, both for her, and from a broader standpoint.

Taylor obviously justifies it to herself with 'I need to find their boss', but equally, she I think, pretty clearly, wants to be... well, wanted (not in a sexual sense, though perhaps that too, but just in the 'they want me around' sense. Minus Rachel, anyway). She hasn't had a place to belong, or people that aren't Danny and... I guess maybe Greg, that really wanted her around in a very long time (as a teenager reckons things). And Armsmaster does a poor job of showcasing the Hero side, and Taylor's got too much baggage to really grasp the case about the Wards he was making, etc.

So yeah. It does make sense. She's got no trust in authority in general, be it Protectorate, PRT or the School. The Undersiders have a boss, but Money is nice, and a place to belong is even more, and she can tell herself she's still aiming to be a hero and turn on them eventually.

And yet - we as the readers see humanized villains, who are all kids too. All (well, maybe not Rachel, yet) decent...ish people. They're not Lung, they're not Empire 88. They're not dealing drugs. They don't really hurt people. (Rachel again excepted)

And we as the reader already have a poor opinion (ish) of Armsmaster, and then we have Vicky.

Vicky, Vicky, Vicky. Glory Girl the Cop. Police Brutality in a Tiara. Collateral Damage Barbie.

She gets better, I believe that, and that this picture of her is just an out of context one, but it really doesn't make a good showing of the character, or of the Heroes side in general. Even Panacea - she's a hero too, and she's calling Victoria out, but she does it the same, all the same, covers it up.

And then there's that Aura, which - we don't know much about it yet, but the fact that a character is just... slinging a mind-altering Aura around like that so casually, to the point where her sister calls herself 'immune' from overexposure, even as what may have been a joke...

Yeah. That seems... fucked. Vicky being this way, so casual about what she did to the guy, effectively torturing him (and Amy kinda gleefully joining in at the end, sorta)...

It doesn't do a great job of showing the heroes of the Wormverse in a good light. Which is, I would imagine, the whole point.

We as the readers are supposed to be okay with our MC being a wannabe hero that decides to join Villains, and one way we're expected to be okay with it is the classic trope - the good guys are actually as bad or worse than some of the baddies.

The Undersiders try not to hurt random people. Vicky fucking - I mean, fuck she nearly kills a guy. Not in self defense. Not in a fight. Not to save anyone.

Just because she got angry and didn't care to stop herself.

Maybe, just maybe, the heroes aren't all they seem cracked up to be. Maybe Taylor being a villain is the more moral choice. That's what the Interlude is trying to imply to us.

Ish.

It's hard to really read Interlude 2 in Isolation, since Amy is my Blorbo so much already, since the Brainrot™ of her has taken over my brain, but I suspect I would like Amy anyway, between her generally bitchy attitude, how much she does care about her sister (not that we know the full details yet) and her 'Fucking hell Vicky, stop doing this shit!' attitude. She makes a good, appealing showing of herself, and she's the sort of character I'd tend to like anyway.

Of course, I'm not reading this blind, and I know Amy is even more the sort of character I'm into, narratively. And here she is at the start of her fucked up journey into fucking up so fucking much. Poor little Amy. If she knew what was coming...

Well, I honestly wouldn't put it past her to just try and kill or birdcage herself now, so she doesn't do that to Vicky. Or she snaps early and goes hogwild, I suppose, but I don't think so.

Anyway, back on topic, before I babble about Amy for hours ( :rofl: ), Arc 2 is a big set up piece, really. Arc 1 is the inciting incident, the big deal that sets the tone for what's to come, introduces the world and some key players, the basic ideas and notions...

And Arc 2 is building out on that. A lot does and does not happen, but what definitely happens is a fluffing out of the world, a showing us more than just what we had seen, laying the groundwork for what's to come.

Certainly Amy and Vicky will be showing up again at the Bank, and yet, we probably don't realize, as blind readers, where they fit in. Or that the bank is coming.

But we have to know, have to suspect, that Taylor is gonna have to do villain stuff at some point.

Arc 2 lays all the groundwork of who these people are, the world they live in, and the consequences of Arc 1, of Taylor fucking taking out Lung.

Fucking LUNG.

Pound for pound, objectively, Arc 1 is better. But Arc 2 has a lot going for it, and of course, AMY!

I have no doubt I'm going to continue to enjoy this work. What I'm most curious about rn is if I'll keep hating Tattle-bitch.

[vidalinav]

https://www.tumblr.com/vidalinav/712546999526998016/omega-verse-nessian-with-nesta-nesting-haha

I’m sorry you can’t just say this and leave it at that (jokes of course)

I would give you my firstborn child for this

I said a lot of things in this post so which one was I leaving you hanging on? I just chose one at random since I felt like writing, but not finishing something.

~ "Where are you going?" Azriel asked, raising a brow at the blankets in his arms.

There was six if his brother bothered to count and Cassian hoped he didn't, because he wouldn't know what to say to explain why he had so many. He couldn't help himself was the only thing that came to mind, but then again, when could he help himself?

Certainly not when they'd first met the Archeron sisters in all their glory and Nesta had raised her haughty nose and he'd insulted her very existence. Certainly not when he'd spent three days servicing her heat after she'd opened the door, flushed and squirming, and she'd become so desperate for him that he nearly bit her right then. She'd kicked him square in the nuts the next morning and still Cassian held the blasphemous blankets in his arms.

Maybe it was when he caught her tear and he'd made a number of promises that he couldn't keep and not keeping them was as good as a knife wound he could never heal from. She could twist it, he decided. If she wanted to, she could take take the knife out and stab him again, and he'd come right back so she could do it again, because Cassian couldn't help himself.

But Cassian couldn't rightfully explain why he had one blanket of wool so as to keep Nesta warm when she was holed up in the house of all places and one of cashmere incase she wanted something soft. One in a greyish blue he'd only seen in her eyes. One in a bright red... just in case she thought of him. One in a knitted pattern that reminded him of her and another so plush he could see her hoarding it into her nest like a little dragon.

He didn't get to see much of her nest the last time. The only thing he'd paid attention to was her scent and her body, begging for his touch. Cassian wished he'd paid more attention to the blankets and the baskets and the color of her room, and the trinkets on her nightstand and the books along her wall. The things she wore when she was home and alone, though she didn't wear much after he'd arrived.

Cassian was trying his best to fill in the gaps, and he'd hoped any of these provided the comfort she desperately deserved. Especially now, when she'd lost the human comforts that once was her whole life.

So, Cassian lifted his wings to Azriel in answer and casually offered, "I'm going to stretch my wings."

But that wasn't a good enough explanation for the shadowsinger and not for his high lord either, who shuffled down his newspaper and gave him a look that meant he didn't need to read his mind to know he was lying.

Rhys hummed a non-committed sound, squinting at the sheer volume. "And the blankets?"

"If I get cold, I'll have something to keep me warm. You, of all people, told me to take extra care of them while they're still healing."

"Yes, but why six?"

Azriel jutted his chin to the basket encased in his hand. "And what's in there?"

Cassian rolled his eyes and even that movement made him think of the female locked away in a mountain top who needed to eat something before she withered away. "Why do you need to know?"

It was Rhys who answered, fluffing his newspaper as if a dismissal. "Because I don't want to hear a complaint from an Archeron sister about a harassment from a moony Illyrian... especially when she still won't let us help her."

Which is why, Cassian wanted to argue, this was exactly what he needed to do. He'd been up there every morning for two weeks and she'd thrown a book at him, roared at him, flipped him off, but it had taken effort.

She'd been quiet, always looking to check on Elain as if she wasn't also irrevocably changed. It had taken him too long to see that ire, hear that scoff, summon that storm in her eyes, and it had scared him almost as much as seeing her head dunked under that cauldron. Cassian wasn't sure when it started--when he began to bring gifts with him and tiny trinkets and books-- but he'd done it every day this week.

If she'd thrown it out the window when he left, he didn't know. Cassian didn't care, because at least it was a movement, a moment, a true emotion.

The basket had food. Sweets, in fact, because it was the only thing he knew she would eat. She'd refused the chicken, the roast, the curry, the stew, but after every day the one thing she'd touch was the dessert.

So today, he'd brought enough dessert to feed a small army and maybe he'd snuck in the zucchini bread and the carrot cake to provide some semblance of a vegetable intake and maybe he'd still packed bread albeit with honey butter, and maybe he'd still packed a meal she could share with Elain. Pasta with roasted butternut squash.

But she would eat, if it was the last thing he'd do.

Rhys snorted, " and if you're not careful, she might hang you from the House of Wind with those blankets and how will I explain that to the people of Velaris."

To be continued

[nichoskittycorner]

Snack time 🐶 ( A Pup hybrid!Euijoo smut)

 

>> You decided to experiment with snacks and your bf's dick (aka Euijoo)

>> Pup hybrid! Euijoo, oral sex, fingering/ handjob, hair pulling, pet names, mixing food, and sex cause fun(?) 

>> Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I'm experimenting a lot these days it seems… Anyway, I think I adore pup hybrid Euijoo more than I thought- 

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

   Euijoo was a sweet guy- a lovely boyfriend, a great friend, and an adorable pup hybrid. You couldn't tell if he was naturally this precious or if his pup side just made him this cute. 

  Whether figuratively or literally rolling over for you, it was too much for your heart. He would always bring nice gifts or snacks while you worked. Giving you massages too to de-stress from hard days. 

  Or he would help you de-stress in other ways… yes it was sex. Okay for a cutie, he surprisingly was ready to kiss, taste or fuck you at a moment's notice. You know it wasn't his rut, that wasn't 24/7. Euijoo was just a sweet and horny guy.

  So you wanted to take the initiative this time and return the favor. Setting up a few items for this surprise. Laying out your set up in the living room so he would see it as soon as he entered. 

  Even deciding to rock a cute lingerie and robe set, although it felt silly with what you prepared. Laying across the couch in all your glory for him. 

  Not long after setting everything up, your pup boyfriend came home. Euijoo sighed with arms full of groceries as he closed the door behind him with his foot. His fluffy ears drooped slightly as he headed toward the kitchen. 

  He caught sight of you and nodded, unfazed. "Hi baby." His tail wagged slightly as he went to drop off the groceries. His lack of reaction was… surprising to say. 

  He did have a tendency to get tunnel vision with certain tasks. It was cute seeing him drone away sometimes. But you wanted his attention this time. 

  Grabbing the jar of peanut butter off of the coffee table, you opened it up and tossed the lid to the side. Swiping your finger along the smooth surface and tasting it. 

  Sweet, salty, and creamy- the taste made a moan of satisfaction vibrate through you. Your eyes closed as you savored it. 

 Unbeknownst to you, Euijoo not only smelled the peanut butter from the other room, but the slight moaning sound had snapped him back to reality. Almost summoning him like a spell as he appeared before you. 

  Once your eyes opened, you jumped in surprise. Euijoo was on his knees before you- tail wagging, ears standing, nose twitching. And his wide eyes focused on the jar in your hand. 

  "Oh? So now you want to pay attention to me pup?" Deciding to tease him, you turned away and stuck your finger into the jar, eating some more peanut butter. Moaning dramatically loud this time. 

  Clearly unhappy with these actions, Euijoo started to whimper. His ears moved down to reflect that and he poked you shyly. 

   "Is someone there? Mh, guess not!" 

  "Baby! Stop ignoring me-" He nuzzled his nose against your cheek before kissing it repeatedly. Migrating from your cheek to your forehead and then on your lips. 

  The slight peanut butter taste still lingered on your lips. Which only brought out the excited puppy in him. Light kisses evolved into a deep makeout, his tongue finding its way into yours. Feverishly exploring your mouth as he savored his two favorite tastes. 

  Finally breaking away to breathe, you giggled and poked his nose. "So now you notice me? Or was it this what you wanted?" You waggled the jar in the air.

  "I'm sorry baby- I didn't mean to ignore you." Oh, he was so lucky he was adorable! You smiled and kissed his nose. Sitting up and fluffing his hair up. 

  "It's fine- it makes sense with how focused you get. If anything, your focus is why I planned this." 

  "Planned…?" Looking around now, he noticed your outfit, the jar of peanut butter you placed back onto the table, and… marshmallow fluff?

  His face heated up but he couldn't deny that his tail was wagging in anticipation. "O-Oh! Baby you didn't have to do this! This is-" 

  You rolled your eyes. He was always shy about accepting gifts and surprises. Sometimes he just needed a little bit of encouragement to relax and accept them. 

  Straddling his lap, you rested your finger on his chin and made him look up at you.  "Joojoo, baby boy, you've been working too hard, let Mommy help you, yeah?" 

  And just like that, your spell worked on him. His tail wagged slowly as it always did when he got excited but focused. Lowering your hips, you started to grind slowly into his lap. 

  Kissing him slowly as you stripped the robe to reveal fully the fancy lingerie underneath. Once your hands were free, you ran a hand down his chest and tangled one into his hair. 

  Massaging one of his fuzzy ears which earned you a low groan, his tail thumping against the couch as he got more excited. His grip tightened on your hips as his fingers dipped into your panties, rubbing his thumbs in circles on your hips. 

  Before he could pull them down or let his hands run lower you broke the kiss, a whine leaving him in protest. "Don't worry pup, I'm just getting started." 

  Getting off his lap, you unbuttoned his shirt, running a trail of kisses from his neck, down his collarbone, down his chest, and stopping at his beltline. 

  His hips bucked involuntarily. You couldn't help the giggle that left you as you undid his belt. " So needy pup. Just relax, I'll take care of you." 

   Wasting no more time, you pulled his pants and boxers off, tossing them aside. Things would get messy from here but you couldn't care less. 

  He was already semi-hard, making him blush and look away from you. Why was he so adorable?! Regardless of your swooning over him again, you gave his tip a light kiss before blindly picking one of the jars behind you. 

  Marshmallow fluff. 

   A little smirk grew on your lips as you opened the jar and put the lid to the side. Holding the open container in your lap as you stroked him slowly, kissing along his shaft as he hardened. 

  Once he was fully erect, you moved your hand slowly up and down eliciting a moan from his lips. His eyes closed as he savored the feeling. 

  You dipped two fingers into the jar of white sweet fluffiness and took a hearty amount out. Slathering his dick from base to tip in it. A chill coursed through him and his ears twitched at the sensation. 

  The cold, sticky, and messy white substance covered him. "Hehe, hey pup, it looks like you've made another mess from your rut." 

  Euijoo stuttered, turning a deep red but his cock still only strained more from this. He knew his ruts left him needy and messy more often than not. And since he had you in his life, they had gained a glimmer of enjoyment. 

  Wasting no more time, you took his tip into your mouth. Sucking and licking the sweet substance off of him. 

  Euijoo whimpered and tangled his hand into your hair. Massaging your scalp as he resisted the urge to force your head to take in more of him. 

  Allowing you to slowly make your way down and take in more of him. Licking long stripes of the fluff off of his hard cock. You couldn't stop the drool that trailed down your chin and his cock as you worked. 

  Looking up at him, you couldn't help but smile as you worked. He looked gorgeous, head tilted back giving you a perfect view of his slender neck and jawline. Fluffy ears laid back with his mouth hanging open. 

  It only encouraged you to keep going. Licking the rest of his cock clean and Euijoo a shivering mess. 

  "Haha, how was that pup?" 

  He only responded with sputters and gasps as you stroked him slowly. How could he enjoy this so much?! Regardless if his mouth couldn't speak his pleasure, his tail was wagging full of vigor. 

  Precious was the biggest word on your mind. Not wanting to leave him hanging, you decided to at least finish him off, taking him back into your mouth. The salty taste of precum instantly touches your tongue. 

  Letting out a moan, the vibrations and the heat from your mouth made him squirm and jerk his hips. A mix of a high-pitched whine and your name came out from him as he kept bucking his hips. 

  Keeping your pace and adding your hand to help, it wasn't too long before he came. Panting, growling and whining erupted as he shook, holding your head in place as he rutted out his climax. 

  As he caught his breath, he let go of your head and he opened his eyes again. A glossy but satisfied look swimming around in them. 

  "So, how was it pup?" 

  Euijoo perked and nodded. "That was- great! But I have a question?" His head tilted as you wiped your mouth and joined him on the couch. "Hm? What is it?"

  Sheepishly pointing at the peanut butter jar, he blushed a bit. "I… I wanna try with that-" 

  "Oh? The pup wants a treat too?" 

  At the word 'treat', his wide eyes seemed to get bigger and he nodded quickly. "Well, you've been a good boy so of course you can!" 

  He smiled and kissed you before grabbing the peanut butter jar and pulling you into his lap. Kissing along your neckline and down the center of your breasts. 

  One of his hands fiddled with the bra as he started to kiss along your breast, lightly sucking on them every once in a while. You sighed in satisfaction and moved your hand into his hair, playing with his puppy ears. 

  Once he finally got your bra undone, he gave a final nip to your breast before pulling back. Tossing the fragile piece of fabric to the side and smothering most of your chest in peanut butter. 

  You had to bite your tongue to hold back a giggle. It was cold and made you shiver but seeing your boyfriend so eager to play with food and touch you was endearing. 

  Once he was done, Euijoo wasted no time licking away at your chest. Trying to keep his tongue movements slow and sensual but failed as his pup brain kicked in and he licked and nibbled away at the creamy heaven. 

  Noticing his hand was still messy, you took it upon yourself to clean him up a bit. Sucking on his fingers as he worked feverishly. 

  Most of your chest was cleaned up now, allowing him to calm down and take his time. Slowing his breathing as he took one nipple into his mouth. Massaging slowly as his tongue swirled around the hardened bud. 

  The almost sudden change in his movements made your toes curl and push your chest closer to him. Taking his fingers out of your mouth, he glided them down your body grazing lightly as they reached your panties. 

  Sliding his hand underneath the lace fabric, he quickly found your clit. Rubbing slow circles on it to match the pace of his tongue on your nipple. 

  A moan vibrated from your throat as your eyes closed. He was doing so little and yet it was driving you crazy. Taking his free hand, he laid it on your ass and squeezed firmly. Alternating between tight holds and gentle massaging. 

   As he worked, the wetter you started to get. And he took notice, speeding up his fingers as his lips moved up to your neck. Biting down on your sweet spot causing you to jump. But his grasp was firm. 

  A little chuckle left his lips as he plunged a finger into your soaking heat. Clenching around his finger before he added another, pumping slowly in and out to give you a moment to adjust.

  Your hips started to grind down, begging him to move faster. And like the good boy he was, he obliged. 

  Pumping his fingers at a faster pace while his thumb continued to work at your clit. A string of whimpers and moans left your lips, only egged on by a growl of satisfaction from Euijoo. 

  His lips continued to move around and mark up your body. Using his canines he bit down on your neck once again this time, a louder sound of pleasure came out. In response, you sped up your hips as you felt yourself getting closer. 

   "Euijoo… pup please-" Your hands unconsciously went to his hair, tugging and pulling at the fluffy mass. Catching his ears which you massaged and pulled on as well. 

  Euijoo let out a little yelp before he started panting hard. As if just those little touches had turned him on all over again. And you weren't too far off, feeling his dick harden and poke against your thigh. 

   Why not help him get there again? With one hand still working his ear, the other latched onto his dick and started pumping him. In no time, you felt him twitch, and precum start to seep out from his slit. 

   From here, it didn't take long for your own orgasm to hit- back arching, head thrown back, and hips riding it out as your juices coated his fingers.

   Not wanting to be the only one finished, you gave his ear another well-timed pull and he came undone in your grip as well. Shaking and whining as his cum covered your hand. 

  Euijoo pulled you into a long kiss from there, pulling his hand out from your underwear and licking your juices off his hand. 

  His tail wagging in satisfaction and giving you an innocent smile. As you caught your breath, you poked his nose. "Don't smile at me pup." 

  Giving you puppy dog eyes, he nuzzled his head into your chest. "Why not baby? Wasn't this my treat?" 

  Darn it. He did have a point. And he was cute so you couldn't deny him for long. " Fine, fine. You have a point. Let's get cleaned up though, we're all sticky and messy." 

  "Hmm, just the way I like it-" 

  "Well, aren't you just a naughty pup-" And for some reason, his tail only wagged happily at your joke. 

[peaktotheocean]

home

pairing: steddie ao3 link: here summary: Steve showing up to a metal festival after a twelve hour shift teaching/babysitting a bunch of five year olds, not even changed or showered from his day, covered in paint that he was never going to get out of his favorite sweater vest? The most romantic thing Eddie could think of.

September was already pushing it for an outdoor musical festival in the midwest. Personally, Gareth thought it was better because metal fans quite often wore rather heavy and leather outfits. They were primed to stay warm in the chill as opposed to overheating in July. But no one asked him. 

They did ask him to play drums though. 

Well, Corroded Coffin was headlining the final Chicago show but same thing. 

Touring was all well and good but there was something about being able to play a show in the town where they lived. Corroded Coffin could do a late set, get home on the last L of the night, and still go to sleep in their own beds, with their partners, and for Jeff at least, his toddlers who had no doubt already escaped their cribs hours prior. 

It was the best of both worlds. Rock stars and the comforts of home.

Not to mention the hometown crowds got the best kind of rowdy. 

It hadn’t been too long of a tour. Just three weeks of this new festival. But as Gareth got older (older, god, he was barely 28), he could see how they all felt it in different ways, the nonstop travel and shows wearing on them just a bit. 

To be back in Chicago, finally, after three whirlwind weeks felt too good. Gareth shook his head. A whole three weeks for this traveling festival. They were getting old maybe.

Not too old though. The act before them finished with a bang and Gareth felt that pre-show adrenaline begin to race through his veins and a little shiver went up his spine. He raised an eyebrow at Jeff who fist bumped him and shook out his shoulders a bit. Gareth couldn’t see Eddie but he could hear him further back in the wings, coaxing his first guitar into a final tune. 

The two on-stage performers stumbled into the wings. They were a relatively seasoned duo and old enough that they joined the wind-down tour bus every night with Corroded Coffin instead of the party bus with a few of the younger bands. 

The only issue was that Gareth could never keep their names straight. They had always been introduced together as Tim and Dan so he kept it that way, always addressing them as a unit. Dan and Tim. Tim and Dan. 

“Nice set,” Jeff complimented them, tossing them each a bottle of water. Either Tim or Dan immediately cracked it open and dumped the whole thing over his head. “Crowd is pumped tonight.”

“They are the best. Oh man. Except for—“ Dan and Tim looked at one another and burst into laughter. They both tried to talk over one another to explain, which didn’t help Gareth’s current issue of not being able to tell them apart. 

“This one guy. A white dude with—“ Hands waved, fluffing up each other’s hair in a presumed imitation of the audience member. 

“A dorky sweater vest—“

“Covered in paint. I thought it was the pattern on the vest at first.” Dan or Tim mimed splattered paint onto his soaked white shirt. 

“Like he took a wrong turn—“

“Or popped out of some portal from another universe.”

“He seems to be enjoying himself though,” one of them said graciously. “He came prepared with earplugs at any rate.”

Gareth looked over at Jeff and they both grinned. Jeff leaned his chair back to check for Eddie but the coast was clear. He crooked a finger at the duo that had so accurately described their lead singer’s partner. 

"Where was this guy?" Jeff asked excitedly. 

"To the right. Can't miss him, man. He sticks out."

Jeff and Gareth both made a rush for the stage, stopping just short of stepping out of the wings. They pushed each other out of the way to get a glimpse at the crowd, all while trying their best not to be seen.

There, true to form and the description brought to them by Tim and Dan, was Steve Harrington in all his glory. Gareth knew that sweater vest all too well. A few months back, the band had drunkenly ranked all of Steve’s outfits and this vest was top ten. Though it was now tragically covered in neon orange and yellow paint all down the front. 

The duo was right about one thing: Steve certainly stuck out in the crowd. If not for his clothing but also because of his actions. No head banging though there was some light head bopping happening, with a small smile and the bright green of his earplugs just barely visible. No chains or leather in sight. Just Steve.

“Oh man, he made it.”

“Eddie is gonna freak.”

“This guy do something to Eddie?” Dan or Tim asked, in such a protective and sweet way that Gareth wished he could remember their names just for that. 

“Nah, that’s Ed’s man," Jeff told them. “They’ve been together since his final senior year."

“You’re kidding me. That guy?” He double-checked again, popping his head above Gareth and Jeff's own, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“He's a kindergarten teacher on the north side. Hence the paint.” Gareth gestures to his own chest. Paint-covered leather wouldn’t be the worst idea for outfits. Maybe the next album cover. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d raided Steve’s supply boxes. “Last spring he came back to the house covered in glitter and they’re still vacuuming it up.”

“You mean Steve is still vacuuming it up.” Jeff shuddered. His children weren't old enough for kindergarten just yet but he could only imagine the revenge Steve would get up to once his girls walked into their uncle's classroom.

“True," Gareth agreed. "He felt bad. Kindergarten rooms need those hazmat showers, man. Like chemistry labs.”

“Do we tell him? Eddie, I mean.” 

“Well, we have to warn security too cause once Eddie sees him, he might dive off the stage," Jeff murmured. Steve's schedule wasn't exactly conducive to their own but he did his best to come out and support the band whenever he could. And each time, Eddie looked at him like it was the best gift he could ever ask for.

Gareth held him back before he could flag down their main bodyguard, an idea forming.

"Maybe we don't warn Eddie. But we do warn security."

"That Eddie might jump into the crowd? That's pretty standard."

"He'll sing to Steve but I don't think he'll go complete PDA." Gareth shook his head, trying to work out a plan. Eddie tried his best to hold back for Steve in public even though that didn't stop him from talking about his partner in print or any other media..

“True. Steve is…well, shy now,” Jeff agreed. He was so unlike the jock they knew in high school. Still Steve, for sure, but more confident and a nicer guy. He kept away from the attention as much as Eddie fed off of it. And Eddie loved no attention as much as the kind he got from Steve. 

“There’s PDA and then there’s PDA,” Gareth defended Steve. “There’s hundreds of people out there. Thousands.”

“So we get a security guy to wait until Eddie sees Steve and then have them bring Steve backstage." Jeff made a face, immediately realizing the logical end to the night. "Then we'll lose our dressing room to the two of them."

"Last time that happened, Steve made lasagna as an apology," Gareth pointed out. He had dreams about that lasagna. "I figure we get Eddie riled up enough, Steve will make us a four course meal."

"Cheesecake," Jeff whispered reverently. "Elena loves that cheesecake of his. She won't stop asking me for the recipe."

"Why didn't you just ask Steve?"

"I asked Eddie."

"That was your first mistake."

Jeff went to handle security and Gareth spun his sticks in his hand, not with anxiety but with excitement. Eddie wouldn't notice Steve during their first song, or even their second. He was almost positive. But right before they launched into their third song, when they paused so Eddie could say hello to the crowd and drink some water. That's when it would happen.

He knew his friend way too well. But hopefully he and Jeff and their families would get a good meal out of it. 

Gareth could still tell the second Eddie saw Steve. His best friend being in love never got old.

-

Steve knew the second Eddie spotted him in the crowd. The slight double-take, the straightened spine, and then the laser focus— all on Steve. 

Then came the smile. 

A beam of sunshine on the chilly Chicago night that Eddie kept trying to talk through, even as he shook his head and stumbled over a few words into the microphone. The crowd could have cared less. Eddie could do no wrong in their eyes. The applause and cheering never stopped.

Steve wouldn’t say he was used to Eddie's delighted expression or the way he did an excited little spin, barely avoiding tripping over the microphone wire. He hoped he never would be, even though it did single-handedly extend the long list of things Robin teased him about. Eddie's energy was always infectious and adorable and made Steve grin instantly. And there was something different about it when Steve experienced it in a crowd.

He didn't get out to see the boys as much as he wanted. His own career made it hard to come on tour outside of the summer. And the migraines didn't help either. Eddie understood, they both did. But god they missed each other.

“Hello you beautiful people!" Eddie shouted into the microphone and the crowd roared back at him. "My boys! My girls! My everyone not constrained by the binary!” Eddie winked and then leered in Steve’s direction. There was sweat and hair everywhere and he had only done two songs so far. Steve loved him so much. “And a special welcome to my man!”

Steve didn't bother holding back a loud laugh and did a little wave to Eddie, who reared back and clutched at his heart, as though he felt the force from it. He quickly skipped forward again, coming to stage right and leaning over as far as he could. They were still a good twenty feet away from each other but Eddie blew Steve a kiss and the crowd went wild. 

Even while knowing his face must be beet red, Steve did what he always did when Eddie blew him a kiss: caught it. 

He held it against his chest and shook his head, even while smiling. Eddie did a spin again and while his partner had never been a ballerina, it sure seemed as though he was using Steve as his own personal spotting point. Then Gareth slammed them into their next song. 

It didn't take long for a security guard to tap him on the shoulder and well, Steve had been expecting it. Jeff or Gareth had probably spotted him. It wouldn’t exactly be difficult in his outfit since he had to come right from the school. He'd watch Eddie from the crowd, from the wings, from anyplace at all.

-

Eddie was well aware that his ideas of romance were vastly different from that of the general population. Metal, for one-- super romantic music in Eddie's opinion.

His partner showing up after a twelve hour shift teaching/babysitting a bunch of five year olds, not even changed or showered from his day, covered in paint that he was never going to get out of his favorite sweater vest? The most romantic thing Eddie could think of. 

Steve carefully bobbing his head along to Eddie's music? Also romantic. 

These were songs that Eddie wrote with Steve by his side. First in his old trailer back in Hawkins and then in the shitty freezing loft that they shared with the rest of the band their first year in Chicago. Steve had been with him the whole time, pressed up against him, stroking his hair while Eddie scribbled furiously, trying to put into words how love made him feel like he was going to explode. There was nothing more metal than that. 

Eddie could see the bright green earplugs in Steve's ears. He was usually the one to put them gently into Steve's ears whenever the band needed to jam inside their house instead of at a fancy studio. When it was still just for them as opposed to any executives or engineers. 

God, Eddie loved that man.

“You knew?” Eddie yelled back to Gareth and Jeff in between songs. 

“Security’s got ‘im!” Jeff hollered back instead of answering the question. “They’re bringing him back!”

Eddie automatically looked to the wings at that and there was Steve, looking just as besotted as Eddie felt. Head tilted to the side and a smile that grew when he saw that Eddie was watching him. 

He was on air the rest of the set. The crowd, the band, the music. Everything had aligned for Eddie Munson and after three weeks on tour, he had come home in the best possible way. There was a heat against his left side, all from Steve's stare through the rest of their songs, including their two encores. 

The crowd was still hollering for more as Eddie bounced off the stage, Gareth and Jeff following close behind. Both of them slapping Steve on the back as they passed by him. Jeff thankfully grabbing Eddie's guitar before he could smack himself or Steve with it. 

“Hey sweetheart," Eddie said softly, voice raspy after a long night. He slid up into Steve's space and wrapped his arms around his neck, letting his fingers play with the long hair curling up there. He kissed Steve once, twice, and a third time before remembering he had to control his breathing just as carefully here as he did on stage. 

Eddie knew sounds and Steve's laughter was the greatest of them all. 

“You guys sounded fantastic.” Steve kissed him again, bringing his hands up to cup Eddie's face. He hadn't stopped smiling since the start of their set and with Eddie back in his arms, he certainly wasn't about to. 

With his voice dropping to a whisper, Eddie asked quietly, "Head?" He gathered Steve in his arms, impossibly closer and Steve's head rested on Eddie's shoulder for minute, earplugs still firmly in place. Eddie stroked his hair, fluffy even after being in a hectic classroom all day. 

Steve, slow and still smiling, carefully shook the head in question, rubbing his face against Eddie's shoulder like a cat. “Head is good, I promise.” He kissed Eddie's shoulder and then looked up, pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips so sweetly that his partner wrapped his arms tight around Steve's waist, refusing to let go.

They could hear the crowd leaving and roadies were packing up around them and Eddie just wanted one more quiet minute with Steve before the ride home. He had missed him so much. He didn't need Steve's arms tightening around his neck to know that he felt the same. 

“A sweater vest though, really?” A voice came from the side, a few feet away. One of the previous acts, one half of a duo that Gareth never remembered the name of. 

“Yeah and I can't wait to peel it off of him tonight,” Eddie growled at Dan. He could feel Steve's chest shaking with laughter against him but he didn't miss the fist bump between Jeff and Gareth. Those two were so weak for his Steve's cooking. 

They'd better not be expecting anything in the next few days because Eddie fully intended to be wrapped up in only Steve and their sheets for the whole weekend. He inhaled and breathed in Steve, whole and in front of him. It was all Eddie had ever wanted. 

-

-

ty for reading! -- ao3 link: here

[lawrussosnation]

Mango against the world PT1

Once upon a time in a world where birds had personalities as colorful as their feathers, there lived a parakeet named Mango. Mango was no ordinary bird; he was a feisty, fearless, and slightly foolish parakeet with dreams bigger than his tiny wings.

Mango lived in a cozy cage, perched near the window of his owner's room. From his bird's-eye view, he watched the world outside with wide-eyed wonder. Every day, he would chatter away at the passing squirrels and loudly critique the weather. His favorite hobby, however, was watching the pigeons that gathered on the windowsill.

One day, Mango had an epiphany. He decided that he was going to be the ultimate protector of his feathered friends. Armed with a determined chirp and a ridiculous makeshift superhero cape (which he fashioned out of a discarded napkin), Mango took on his new identity as "Mango the Avenger."

His first mission involved protecting his friends from the dreaded vacuum cleaner. Every time it roared to life, Mango would swoop down, squawking at the top of his lungs to warn the pigeons. He'd flap around like a tiny, green-feathered superhero, convinced that he was the only thing standing between his pigeon pals and the evil vacuum.

But Mango's crusades didn't stop there. One day, he spotted a shiny object outside the window and promptly declared it a bomb threat. In his mind, he was a true bomb-defusing expert. Mango swung down from his perch on a piece of string (which he insisted was his "special rope"), pecked at the shiny object for a while, and declared victory. Of course, the bomb wasn't defused yet as it blew up right as mango left. He escaped.

However, Mango's most daring adventure was yet to come. One evening, he witnessed a group of neighborhood cats harassing a flock of innocent sparrows. Without a second thought, Mango dove into action, squawking and flapping his wings like a tiny, furious tornado. His antics startled the cats, who quickly fled the scene, leaving the sparrows in awe of their unexpected hero.

As the news of Mango's fearless escapades spread, the bird community was in awe. Mango became a local legend, known far and wide as the "Bird Avenger." Even the pigeons he'd once protected showered him with admiration, fluffing their feathers in admiration whenever he soared by.

But amidst all the glory, Mango felt a little lonely. He longed for someone who would appreciate his heroic deeds and silly capes. And then, one day, as he was nibbling on his bird food (which he now saw as his "power pellets"), he noticed a vibrant, beautiful parakeet named Peach perched on a nearby windowsill. It was love at first tweet.

With newfound courage, Mango hopped over to Peach's windowsill and introduced himself. To his delight, Peach was charmed by Mango's stories of bomb threats and vacuum cleaner standoffs. They spent hours laughing and sharing tales of their daring feats, realizing that they were two birds of the same feather.

And so, in the midst of his battles against imaginary bombs and evil vacuums, Mango found his one true love. He realized that even in a world that seemed bizarre and absurd, there was someone out there who understood and appreciated his uniqueness.

From then on, Mango hung up his makeshift cape and focused on being the best version of himself. He still chatted with the pigeons, critiqued the weather, and occasionally thwarted "bomb threats." But now, he had a partner in crime, a fellow parakeet who shared his peculiar passions and his heart.

And so, Mango the Pigeon Avenger and Peach the Feathery Sweetheart lived happily ever after, proving that even the silliest of adventures could lead to the most extraordinary love stories.

next part is soon yeah brah

[evilwriter-originals]

Whumptober Day 23 - Gruesome Glory

Prompts: "Hold them down"

Rated: mature

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, lady whump, blood

Word Count: 416

Summary: Anaria is hurt in battle and her wound must be tended to or she’ll never make it to a healer alive.

Anaria hardly knew what was going on. All she knew was the pain. Oh gods, pain. Her left thigh had been slashed open on the battlefield, the sword making it over her greaves. She’d been unable to kill the enemy soldier, collapsing after the blow. Luckily, Girad had been fighting by her side, and felled him for her. Now, he was dragging her off the battlefield, shouting for a healer. 

“G-girad, please,” Anaria begged tearfully. “Just put me down. Let me rest.” 

Girad didn’t appear to hear her. Or maybe he just wasn’t listening. Desperation in his movements, he picked her up in his arms, and Anaria screamed as the motion jarred her leg. She faintly heard - through her haze - Girad apologizing over and over. 

She was set down on the ground, somewhere away from the battle, though the harsh and horrific sounds of it could still be heard. There were people around her.

“She’s bleeding too much,” someone said. “Quick, take her armor off. Someone make a tourniquet.” 

The voice wasn’t Girad’s, and Anaria blearily opened her eyes, searching for him. She found him, weakly reached out a hand. Gods, she was so weak all of a sudden, so cold. He took her hand in both of his, bloodstained as they were. 

“It’s going to be okay, Anaria. I promise.”

“Hold her down.” 

Those words filled her through with horror. She struggled weakly as hands put pressure on her shoulders and legs. 

She understood why they had to hold her down though, when they began taking off her armor. She thrashed to the best of her ability and screamed at the horrible pain it caused. She tossed her head back, mouth open, back arching, feathers fluffing out to their fullest. 

Finally, the armor came off, showing her wound in all its gruesome glory. There was blood everywhere. 

“We have to tie a tourniquet,” one of her guards said. “She’ll never make it to a healer bleeding like this.” 

Anaria didn’t understand why she was still being held down though. A tourniquet couldn’t hurt that badly, right? 

Wrong. 

One of the guards had taken off his belt, tying it around her thigh, pulling it tight. He did this above the wound, but gods it was painful. She screamed, something she was getting very sick of doing. 

Girad pressed a hand to Anaria’s soaked face: she’d been crying. 

“Anaria, you’ll be okay. I promise. I prom…”

His words faded into nothing. As did the world around her.

[yanderelovlies]

✨Galaxy Anon ✨ here!

( Here are the responses tumblr didn’t send)

Ooh what is this game focused on? Oh don’t worry I get distracted a lot too. And maybe since it’s easier sometimes especially having to deal with the pain that is life.

*nods head* Yes please that be most appreciated.

Pfft now that I read it back it does sound evil. Haha I meant as a warning for your feelings but I could go for that evil vibe as well lol.

Same I love lore in video games, more than actually playing the game. At least he is involved in it and also setting down his boundaries. Good for him. Honestly very true since a lot of YouTubers let it become so bad they become narcissistic or outed as predators which is such a pain to deal with.

Yes especially when they “ talk” about the subject and never bring it up or even private it showing they don’t feel sorry at all or not even say anything at all. I had a YouTuber who I didn’t watch often but when finding out what he did I actually was a bit surprised since he never struck me as the type but unfortunately looks can be deceiving. Never heard of them but at least now I have another YouTuber to avoid. Also for example artists YouTubers I don’t want to give them money for being awful and it’s shame since some of them have done amazing works and while I can separate art from artists it’s hard to find a upload that isn’t on there channel to watch so I don’t actually give the person views.

Ooh that makes sense. I will check a gameplay on that.

So basically play your route kinda game? I see. Ooh that sounds Interesting and nownI can see the differences between the two games.

Oh makes sense I understand that you have to look for the lore and sometimes it’s hard to keep track of. Yeah I don’t blame you I would just want to know the lore already and try to find people who can explain it.

Yeah I only want to shame people who have incest or actually condone horrible acts and say the acts are fine in real life and your like “ No?”

Oh I don’t mind spoilers can you explain in better detail. Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if there was in the fandom. The more bigger a fandom the weirder and grosser parts of it are easier to find.

Yay!

Ahh I see basically the whole “ I have to deal with it” mindset. Maybe it was because they were afraid if you had them on you wouldn’t hear them clearly and be more inclined to get distracted resulting in less than satisfactory results. Wow so many big words lol.

No problem viví. I know that would be the worst if someone bad had a hold of this information and hurt you with it. Besides you don’t need to feel sorry for having boundaries.

I can’t wait to see more of it! I love to see how you handle this conflict branching off this one shot! I mean in the end as least is the readers know we are so amazing we were able to charm Joseph lol.

Do you remember if you actually left it open or even a kinda like dream that could explain why it was opened? Anything different in the house? Maybe something wasn’t stolen but maybe vandalized in your house? Not to mention also was there anyone who was last there who could have something to do it? Maybe accidentally leaving the door opened when leaving.

So the main plot of the first three is stopping these sentient machines called the Reapers. They are giant ships that hide in dark space till races rise to glory, then harvest/kill them all. However, each game is like steps to stopping them. The first two delay their arrival while gathering information (and saving people), while the third game is rallying all the races to fight the Reapers. The fourth one really doesn't have anything to do with the first three. totally different characters in a totally different galaxy. They also introduced a new alien species in this game called the Angran. I love them so much

*gives you my fluffed blanket and pillow pet* Here you go, friend 💕

Lol, villain in the making right there.

Honestly, that's Dark Souls for me. Love the lore hate the stupid difficulty. I'm really looking forward to his movie and seeing him in the fnaf movie. Also, no kidding, it's getting scary at this point.

I feel the exact same way. I won't lie i go through the subscribe list every now and again, just in case I don't like supporting anyone who hurts others.

Lol, the funny part is when I play dark souls I more on edge and anxious, which is why I make so many mistakes, but while playing DMC, I button smash 👀

Lore finding is even worse Elden Ring (It was made by the same people who made dark souls). I recently beat the game, and I can't tell you anything about the lore. Just that I killed a bunch of bosses and became a lord. That's it. so I'm watching YouTube.

I will never understand why people think shit like that is okay

Well, each fire emblem is different. different stories, different characters, and different land. However, there are few that suffer from the "She is a million year old dragon, but looks like a little girl, and one to my knowledge is marriable. One of them also has Incest unfortunately. If you're male, you can marry your actual cousin, and if you're female, you can marry that cousin's son. don't get me started in the rest of the romances. the story isn't the best either, and it's such a shame to me because there are two characters from there that I love so much, but I'm not a fan of the game.

That all being said, the more recent fire emblems don't have Incest and they do have a little dragon girl, but you can't marry her, and she acts like kid so she falls more into the little sister role. They are learning.

Really, that's my only thought process when working. I've had friends in the past who were the opposite, and i saw how that went. I mean, you're probably right. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. It was just hard for me to work without it. I don't like the quiet it bothers me. God, that sounds spoiled of 😭

Thank you for understanding.

I've been working on it piece by piece. I've been busy, so it might be a bit before it's ready, unfortunately.

Well, what happened was I went to my moms house to get something. When I came back to mine, I thought I shut my door properly, but I didn't. sometime early that morning, my cat and dog were playing and opened the door. I did recheck everything, and nothing has been messed with or taken. Since then, I have always checked my door twice.