#and the only thing dream can think to do to heal him is feed Him this time

[boxofwaspss]

vampire au dreammare <3

FOR YO

U

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[nomoreusername]

Not Proud

⚠️ Self harm ⚠️

Pairing:Newt x female reader

Summary:As you're ready to give in again and cut, Newt catches and comforts you.

Requested by @newts-limp

I wasn't proud of it. Not in the slightest bit. If anything, I was ashamed, but I didn't know how to stop. There's just something about the blade that seems to call to me, telling me that it was the only thing that would ever understand me.

And maybe that’s true. Maybe I’m so addicted to this thing that it truly is the only thing that matters. Maybe it's the only thing that can take the pain away. If I focus on this pain I don't have to think about the other kind. The kind on the inside that makes me want to close my eyes and not wake up.

I’m not suicidal. I don't think so, but I wouldn't exactly mind if something happened to me. I just don't have it in me to care anymore. I don't have it in me to have hope that anything good will happen soon or at all. Getting out and being actually happy and meeting other girls all feels like some dream that I’ll never get to reach.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath as I held it over my waist. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't good for me. It wasn't a solution, but I had to. I needed to do this. I had already gone a week without it, and if I didn't cut soon I was going to go crazy. I was going to lose it. I was going to do something worse than even this.

They itch. The cuts itch the most when they're healing so I just won't let them heal. It's as simple as that. Just like it's so simple to drag a blade across my stomach until I don't want to die.

I was desperate. I was really, really desperate.

I know it's wrong. I know it's an addiction, but I won't quit. I can't, but I don't need to. This isn't going to kill me. This isn't hurting anyone, and it's like I have something to fill the void inside of me. It's fine. It's fine, it's fine, it’s fine.

Taking a breath, as I went to do it my hut door opened. Frozen in disbelief, I stared at Newt who stared at me, holding my shirt up and placing a razor on my stomach. That also meant fresh cuts and old scars were on display, revealing to him just how messed up I actually am. Even though I was the best at hiding it, there was no way to brush this off.

“Hi,”I got out, managing to put my shirt down. Then, before either of us could say another word, I broke down. As I was shaking I heard my razor clank to the floor, gravity taking my biggest curse and worst blessing. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I kept mumbling incoherent apologies.

“It’s okay. It's okay, love. It's okay,”He said quickly, shutting my door and sitting beside me. Shaking my head, I kept wiping my eyes just for more tears to follow.

“It's okay. It’s okay. You're alright,”He repeated. As I buried my face in the crook of his neck the lump in my throat, along with the guilt in my stomach, seemed to get worse as he rubbed my back.

“I’m sorry,”I repeated.

“It's going to be okay. I promise. It’s all going to be fine,”He soothed. With my harsh sobs turning to sniffles, I kept my eyes close as I clung to him. Not even about to speak, I essentially shut down. While this usually happened when I was done feeding my mind and body's demand for pain, I was just so drained from it all. Knowing I had been caught was surreal, but I also knew that some things would probably change. Things I probably didn't want.

“Y/N, let's go to sleep?”He suggested. Not seeing the point in saying no, I nodded my head. I mean it wasn't like I was going to be getting any words out anytime soon. It wasn't like I even wanted to.

Laying down, I kept my head in his neck. With his arm still around me, he traced hearts on my skin, making sure his hands didn't touch my waist.

“I do love you. I will always love you. Nothing anyone says or does, even you, could ever make me stop,”He whispered. Keeping my eyes shut, I took a breath as I accepted that right now was the most peaceful I had felt in a long, long time.

I could never bear to lose him. Ever, ever.

But if I do in the future, I have him right now. He’s with me, and that has to be enough to make everything just a little less terrible.

[1-49]

성찬 : An angel slept on my shoulder, & now it feels like sunrise.

❝ wherein Sungchan wakes you up differently than you are used to.

pairing: f!reader × jung sungchan ⁝ tags: um, he is a meanieee, as in the most adorable, most dreamy. inspo; photographer era sungchan, this pic! (hopefully, there will be more of them) ep14 of rize&realize in terms of his styling. wc. 3k

this a sslight reupload from two weeks ago given it got eaten in the tags, sry.

Poets write more about perfect love than toothpaste and alarm clocks, though there are intriguing ways in which our morning routines shape our lives.

Already, months of mornings spent waking up to find Sungchan lying next to you──someone u would gladly wake up beside for eternity. 

A comfort, a constant, a habit. Someone whose smile lifts, heals, and puts all you want to hear into words; someone gentle and kind who winces when you try to brush an eyelash away from his cheek. Just a really sweet person who smiles w his eyes & something about it flutters ur heart... But that’s only the beginning.

On certain days, you wake up on different sides of the bed; on other mornings you find yourself waking up next to his warm skin; and on certain days, his schedule demands that you wake up alone.

On this particular day though you awaken to an odd camera shutter sound. The sound isn’t new to you──you have heard it before, but not this close, this intimate, or this early in the morning.

It takes a few more hearings of the shutter and click sound before you manage to slowly open your eyes & realize that this isn’t a lucid dream. 

He is just lying there beside you, curled in an odd way, holding what you think is a black object, though you cannot quite make out what it is yet due to blurry vision.

You try to reach out to him & get him to take his seemingly favourite new toy off of your face, but all u can manage is a husky, “What are you dooing?” and shut your eyes instantly.

Sungchan pulls back, securing his camera teasingly away from you, and putting more distance between the two.

Gradually adjusting your eyes to the light that has evidently been let through the curtains on purpose, you make another whiny remark, “It’s tooo bright in heere.”

In the most foul, deep tone a person in the morning can have, he cheekily says, “Morning.”

Ouch…

White sheets separate you as you are trying to get a closer look at him by tapping the puffiness of the duvet to discover why he is acting so meanly this early in the day.

There it is—that click again.

The shutter sound reverberates more because of the silence in the room. It loops similarly to how wrinkled sheets do and similarly to how waves do, as he continues to force his finger onto the shutter button.

At this point, you know he is holding a camera; you are just curious about how he got it, since you have never seen it and he has never expressed interest in that kind of thing before.

“You make a perfect subject,” he admits.

Sure, it is too early for him to flirt, but is not something you are unfamiliar with either. He has this ability to ease and comfort even in the most tense situations. Which then also equals the number of times he has flirted with you, even in the most unusual circumstances. 

There is just something about Sungchan that thrives on the abnormality of situations. His level of extrovertism is as high as it gets on your hot-cold scale, making you feel everything from extremes, but you would not trade that for anything. And if that means you are flirting with him at the dentist or while feeding an animal in the zoo, so be it.

And he is being unconventionally alluring once again this morning. No matter how long you have been dating, he still has an insatiable desire when it comes to pushing your boundaries. Specifically, he is manipulating your emotions today from behind that too-small-for-his-hands rectangle thingy.

Burying your face in the pillow, you whine,  “Sungchannn,” since you are actually given something to be upset about in the first place. Why is he like this?

You know he has that ‘trouble’ smile on his face, even though you are not looking at it.

Click.

He takes a little longer to play as he inspects the new toy, looks down at a picture of you on the screen, peers at you through the viewfinder, and then peeks at you over the camera. 

“It feels strange that I can practically touch you through the screen.”

It is too early, you swear, and this time, he is disturbing your tranquillity, but when he goes above and beyond to get your full attention, can you really blame him?

Said into the pillow, you refuse to give up and look at him, so it comes out muffled. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

“I consider that a compliment,” he taunts.

You instantly lift your head in reaction to the counterattack, intending to bother him even more “Well, yes, when” Despite the bright light coming from the windows, you force yourself to open your eyes. “when—”  

The sight ..… You are only now experiencing it after your drowsy vision has subsided and things are beginning to become more clear.

The ball formed at the end of your throat is hard to swallow. “when—When… you,”  you continue to glitch ── thinking, speaking, looking at him, and moving on are all challenging. 

“Well… yes,” Sungchan continues his ribbing of you. “When…” 

However, you are preoccupied with something else so much that you miss—you...

The fucking sight!

He is bathed in the most dazzling morning light. Someone who, naturally, has reached the pinnacle of confidence is someone who woke up significantly earlier than you and spent time with himself. Having had a great start to the day, worked out, showered, and taken care of himself, he has made the decision to make yours even better.

Propped up on his elbow, the devastation continues the more detail your eyes begin to take in.

The sunlight is skating on his hair. Pulling the camera away from his face, the drowsy light drips from his hair, still damp from the shower.

Golden, golden, golden — ‘the warm sun’ is burning your lips, cheeks, shoulders, and skin. 

Here he is, seemingly creating ‘art’ when in fact he is it. 

Considering that you have not yet experienced a view like this in the morning, the Leica in his hands enhances the rest of what you begin to perceive as his artistic movement. 

Sungchan repeatedly tugs the camera strap in and out of his fingers as he plays with it. Even though your brain has just started working, you can understand the gesture’s flex and meaning.

Additionally, aside from the wet hair, the softness of the white sheets contrasts sharply with the print of the camo pants. It is hard not to be confused by the brutality of his choice.

His faded Diesel hoodie is completely unzipped, displaying his flawlessly squared abs, where the sun also appears to like to hang out. And you think that if he had been naked in bed instead of ‘completely clothed’, it would have seemed more natural. However, here you are.

Although the artwork you are viewing lacks logic, that is precisely the complexity of art.

As you continue to examine him more, your words linger at the back of your throat.

He remains unaffected. The flexing of his hands and abs is in harmony. The low rise of his camos tases the downward curve of his hips, and internally, you lose it a little. His toned physique exudes such an artistic quality. It is something you want to touch, feel, & experience with your hands to appreciate the artistry. But you know that you must go through hell to get there. 

Apparently, you are his subject today, and you are aware of how dead-set Sunghcan can get when he has a goal. You are aware that you must tolerate his shaninagins this morning.

Alongside the obnoxious look, he has got going on──is the most mind-bending smile. It begs the question of how a smile can dig down that deep. All are capable of smiling, and all do smile, and you witness a hundred smiles every day, but none quite like his.

His smile has a subtle twist that gives it the ability to appear both devilishly seductive and angelically sweet. That is very exciting in both senses. It makes you shaky. A smile so intense and alluring that it simultaneously makes you feel afraid and terrified because it conveys how much you are falling for him. And even though you have been falling for a while, it always feels brand-new.

What is it that makes his smile so sincere? Why is it speaking back to you as well? And, why does it tell you what you want to hear?

Your mind is full of feelings. Your heart is full of feelings. There is no logic to you, as he starts to draw nearer, and your heart rate picks up too. You get so vulnerable every time you realize how much power this gentle giant has over you just by being so close.

He poses a question in an effort to highlight the fact that you are staring at him, “Would you like to see them?”

“Se—” you falter, raving deeply with your emotions. Not to say that he has caused you brain damage, but he most certainly has. “See-see what?”

“The pictures, angel.”

“Oh, yes,” you say, waving your head, “the-the pictures.”

An angel? You cannot remember a time when he called you an angel. This is the first instance. Your morning face freezes blankly, and all your efforts to stop the confusion from showing are useless. He finds appeal in it, so he grins.

And now, at a closer range, you can detect the scent of raspberry shampoo in his hair. His lips even; velvety and waxy, glazed in the same balm… The scent is vividly juicy, sweet, and slightly acidic, and it clings to your nostrils, gaining access to your thoughts and making you feel ecstatic.

The tension in your throat finally eases as you swallow it all. Still, it is not like you had a choice. You were forced to do it out of fear.

Fear of him. The fear of being approached by him in an awake state as opposed to a dream. This. The reality. The truth of his hoodie falling off his shoulder and his bare abs being dragged across the sheets...

You let out a sigh. No one could have prepared you for this morning. 

Sungchan eventually tries to show you the photos he took of you on the LCD screen, but you are dying from the close proximity and the raspberry stench. As your itching, agitation, & restlessness increase, you try to cover more of yourself by pulling the sheets.

He picks up on all your signs—your desperation is adorable to him. He still appears naive enough to exploit you, though. “What?” 

“N-nothing,” you respond, a little dizzy. “It’s just that this morning is giving me a really strong kickstart.”

He seems interested in what you just said, as his stare narrows. “Really?” His fluffy smile and curious eyes watch your lips for a reply.

How annoying…

After giving him a side eye, having grown tired of his lure, you turn back to the camera. “Show me.”

The pictures start to speed up one after another, & you aren’t sure how to react because you were the one being photographed without permission, but they are strangely gorgeous. Raw in the sense that perfection is surrounded by flaws.

You can see how he has fed his curiosity by taking a more romantic & delicate approach to your ignorance (you sleeping). There is no denying that the thematic progression perfectly conveys the raw emotions of someone being in love. The subject matter: tender sensuality, body art, and safe spaces.  

Each and every one of photos discloses an intensely private detail about you that only he sees. Deeply asleep & oblivious to everything, including him and his camera, you are rendered completely helpless in those pictures.

Sunghcan looks at you and waits for your response while grinning to himself and twirling his finger around the edge of his lips.

At last, you say, “Um…”

He retracts, “Ummm? Just an umm?”

You make an effort to maintain your modesty and ignore what you consider weak pictures, considering how frail you look in them. “They are fine, I guess.”

“Fine!?” His brows furrow, and he gives a sad little pout. “Baby, no one else gets to see you like this but me.”

“A little possessive, aren’t we?” you flirt back, and naturally, the unintentional provocation is immediate. It works quickly, causing him to leap over you and threaten you with his new gadget.

With his knees bent, he straddles your body, & looks down on you. “Then let us improve them.”

You are still warm and sensitive from your sleep; the last thing you need to do is look at him standing on top of you as if you are viewing some grand statue from below...

And not to mention his low-rise camos and his unzipped hoodie with one sleeve hanging down his arm, exposing his bare shoulder. Incredibly ‘babygirlfied,’ if that makes any sense.

All of it is too much and something you do not need to focus on right now, but you can not really complain, can you? He is as dual-edged as the idea of his contradictory smile. Someone so irresistible.

Still,  

“Sunggchaan,” you object, your hands covering your sleepy face, knowing that your protests never work against his determination anyway. 

Waving the camera, he begins to goof around and document everything in the process. He is gazing at you and frantically pressing the shutter button, and the montage of pictures keeps going. Pretty soon, it is more about the moment than what he is photographing.

The room grows excessively bright as the walls begin to come to life one by one. It explodes with giggles and tickles and pillows thrown around as the peachy tint fills it.

The push-pull, trying-to-resist cat-and-mouse game is an engaging exercise to ensure you are fully motivated & prepared for the day. And it is nonstop movement, much like a workout.

Inside the sheets, then outside of them. Click.

Folded limbs & naive scratches. Click.

Teeth pulling at the strap of your tank top.

Teeth digging into the camera strap... [An artistic moment of reflection.] Click.

Your hand in reach for his camera. Click.

A Backhug. Speaking lip touching earlobe. Secrets spilling. A Promise.

And again, your palm (Click) on his lens.

A groan.

The Leica being thrown onto the bed.

Your wrists being pinned.

Stuck.

Tasting without touch.

Warm lips pressing a kiss against your cheek.

⠀

Finally, he pulls away from you, a photographer who takes his work seriously. He assumes the first position, straddling your body & stopping movement by glaring down at you.

It is just hitting that the constant motions and how you two emoted through the last couple of minutes lead into a new series of super artsy & super candid couple aesthetic—the ultimate romantic declaration.

Despite the camera being in his face, he looks at you over it. There is something so romantic about the prolonged primal eye contact you two share. Following everything is too intimate, beautiful, harsh, and full of passion.

Click.

It is impossible not to tease Sungchan, even though he is made you feel a little tired and increased your dopamine levels. “That is not how you shoot a photograph.”

“Oh, yeah?” He bends down, tongue pocking at his cheek and thumb resting on the delicate column of your throat. “Care to teach me?” 

Pressing slightly, slightly...

the gentle thumb pressure to reduce your airflow is purely psychological.

Love tickles the shallow parts of your spine as his body heat seeps through the sheet that you badly force on yourself to cover your body. You too are fevered, & you have been since opening your eyes.

He observes every inch of your face, for you are his dream girl.

His lashes battle as his damp hair slides into his deer eyes. His breath and the raspberry scent are waiting on your lips. To say that he just imagines a kiss that would stop time and give you another hour of his undivided attention would be an understatement. 

Butterflies start to swarm your whole body, you really want nothing more than to bite into that ivory shoulder!!

His soft pink tongue dances along his teeth as it tries to get your attention.

And while with sweet thoughts, a loving heart, and kind deeds, Sungchan radiates happiness like a sweet puppy, he also doesn’t mind being naughty...

You shy away, smiling—embarrassed by your own ideas. Mean, mean, mean. He is so mean!

This doe giant, the type to hold your face in his hands and say, “Come closer.”

You feeeel insane...

The camera sits on the nightstand, battered but full of memories. Somewhat of an unusual late morning—the city appears blood orange in the distance.

Your skin is being caressed by the gentle amber light of the morning as your legs entwine with his. The material of his pants is rough against your exposed skin, but there is something about the uncomfortability that makes you feel even more sensitive.

Ultimately, the final product is...

Well,

it is all about the mess of unmade bedsheets, uncareful kisses and blurry photos. The birds chirping their morning melody, and your face buried in his neck as you take in a deep breath.

They say a picture encapsulates a moment, but you come to realize that there is no better view than this one,

waking up to Sungchan’s dreamy face in this heaven-like bedroom every day──a safe space where you let him speak and have his way with you. That pictures can document a tiny fraction of those feelings & emotions it feels like bonus.

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

[spotaus]

Everyone say hello to DreamEater AU's very own Dream! (And Fresh!) Otherwise known as Tulpa!

This AU is technically a Dream × Fresh ship story, but honestly it could be taken as Platonic because I view them both as aroace kings 👌. (This is alao Extremely self-indulgent lmao-) I'm gonna put more under the cut + close-ups but what is important is:

Dream is badly injured by Dust and ends up in a random AU after a messy retreat from battle. Fresh stumbles across him in need of a new host and attempts to take over Dream. Dream isn't a normal monster though, and he fights the hostile take-over. His soul doesn't decay like a normal monster's when Fresh feeds, so they end up coming to an agreement to share the body while Dream heals.

SO!!!

The DreamEater au comes from an idea I had years ago. Dream is injured, and it leaves him badly paralyzed while he recovers. In the old concept Fresh just nursed him back to health. In the DreamEater AU, Fresh is actively using Dream's unique vessel to his own advantage. It's like finding a body that fits him like a glove, and so he's content to just keep it. Until, of course, Dream becomes conscious again.

Fresh successfully takes Dream's body for a week or so before Dream is lucid again as a soul, and he tries to reason with Fresh to give him back control. He explains what happened and why he needs to get back. Fresh explains that he's going to keep being a parasite and no way he's giving up the perfect body. It's a long back and forth before Fresh relents and let's Dream take control again, only for him to collapse. Dream can't feel anything from his neck down due to where he'd been injured.

Fresh takes over again, and Dream just kinda lingers along with Fresh, staying in the passenger's seat of the body. He is stressed and worried but knows now that it'll take ages for him to heal anyways. By letting Fresh roam he can see the state of the multiverse at least.

And as things go on, the balance keeps tipping. Farther and farther in Night's direction. It's palpable. Then one night Fresh talks with Dream. It's small-talk, but it turns out he thinks Dream's soul will keep going forever if he can be around happy people. Dream explains that without him to do guardian work there are less abd less of those positive people to feed him so Fresh can keep going.

So, Fresh agrees to help Dream return to his duty, but only minimally since he's extremely injured.

Dream returns most of his wardrobe, and Fresh controls his body while Dream directs him and takes over control of his skull. Any weird actions are chalked up to recovering from his injury. Blue and Ink are thrilled to see him again. All is well for a bit, and though Fresh holds Dream back sometimes, he ends up actually being really good for Dream's mental health by not letting him overwork or stress about things he doesn't need to. Dream teaches Fresh how to use a bow, how to fight with a staff, etc. They become... friends? At least while they help eachother. Having Fresh tag along doesn't hurt Dream at all, and Fresh loves his free buffet of Dream.

Blue is the first one to notice Fresh, but he's not actively hurting Dream so he says nothing.

It's hinted when m, during a fight with NM's gang, someone curses and It's censored. Everyone is on edge because many of them don't like Fresh, and the bttle dispurses quickly afterwards.

It's revealed on a day that Dream is ambushed on an errand and Fresh takes forceful control so he can Fresh-Poof out of the way. Dream's Soul is shown in the other eyelight that's normally dark, and Fresh takes full control just to skate around the gang, teasing and evading them. Dream wasn't happy, but he was grateful after the fact. Everyone knew after that, and Dream started to agree that without it being a secret, Fresh could change up the wardrobe.

Eventually Dream heals almost fully. At that point, Fresh tries not to get involved with NM's conflicts. He also swaps in and out of control with Dream seamlessly throughout an average day. They become actual friends, talking over eachother and playfully swapping control. And eventually that becomes an agreed partnership. Ink doesn't approve of having Fresh around all the time, but he's Dream's closest companion besides Blue, so he stays.

Point is, they care a lot about eachother, even when they started out so tense. They keep eachother safe for selfish reasons, and for their bond.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - Chapter 3

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, brief mention date rape, domestic violence, not reader oh make me over, i'm all i wanna be, a walking study, in demonology - celebrity skin, hole

3. for the life of the flesh is in the blood 

It is both a relief and a disappointment, that you find your first experience of feeding on John Constantine was quite singular. No one since has inspired the same brand of heady lust when you break a vein. You think about him often, but you've done your best to give the demon hunter a wide berth. You're sure the last thing he wants is some needy little leech following him around, begging for his attention. 

You're sure he only saved you out of pity, anyway. 

It still hurts, so you try not to think about it anymore.

You have taken to hunting your meals amongst the evil doers of the city—of which there is no shortage, in the City of Angels. Your favorite method has become playing the party-going damsel in a bar not watching her drink. When the inevitable asshole drops a dose of something in it, a thing you have found does not affect you at all, you play drowsy and accompany him to the inevitable alley or sometimes even his car, where you pounce.

You can't say you feel too terrible about removing such trash from the population. You're not sure how God feels about your methods, but then you're not sure it matters any way. It helps pay your rent too. Holding down a job as a vampire kind of went out the window, so you help yourself to whatever cash you find in your criminals' wallets with little remorse. 

The fact of the matter is, as time goes on...you don't exactly hate being a vampire. It took some adjustment, sure, but you have power you'd only dreamed of as a human woman. You can go anywhere you want now without fear. You are fast. You are strong. You haven't figured out flying yet, but even that seems like it might be possible down the line. 

Maybe you could ask a fellow vampire about what is and isn't possible, but you have yet to actually meet one. 

You've sensed them around the streets of LA—but in the end you always chicken out and flee the scene. The vampires who made you were not exactly shining examples. You're not in a hurry to fall in with their ilk. You'd observed there was a definite pecking order in the coven that took you, and you're not exactly eager to become some asshole's toady again, a little cog in some evil plot or another. You’d played that game in corporate America in your old life, and you're not going back to it. 

One evening when you are heading out for the night you run into John in the hallway again. 

You are astounded when he is first to greet you. "Y/n."

"Hi, John." You can't help but feel the contrast to the way you used to play this game. You feel the loss of innocence, of your humanity, so keenly when you see him. You'd be a liar if you said the sight of his stupid, handsome face didn't still move you. The loss of what might have been...hurts, like a half-healed wound with a finger in it. You haven't been avoiding him, per se...but seeing him still ties you up in knots in a way you don't necessarily like. 

"You look...nice." You glance down at your dark low-cut dress and leather jacket. Bar bait chic. It's quite a shift, from the sweet floral sundresses and bright colors you once favored. 

"I was just popping out for a bite to eat."

"Yeah?" He is looking at you with an intensity that makes you squirm a little inside. A look that a vampire does not like, on the receiving end from a demon hunter. "How's that...going for you?" 

"Fine."

He looks around the hallway for potential eavesdroppers. You already know it's vacant. Your hearing was excellent on the night you were Born to Darkness, and it's only improved from there. 

"Fine?"

You cross your arms with a look of what the fuck else do you expect me to say out here?

Constantine makes an annoyed sound that's almost a growl. 

You shouldn't find it as endearing as you still do. 

“Come talk to me a minute?” he invites, nodding towards his apartment. 

Remembering all the crosses and weapons he has stashed in there, you're not too keen to go, in case he's decided letting you live your undead life was an oversight. 

You wrinkle your nose like you’ve smelled something bad. "You can come talk to me in here," you counter, nodding towards your own space. 

He smirks at you, as though he knows very well the cause for your caution. “Sure,” he agrees, cocky as ever. John Constantine isn’t afraid to walk unarmed into the lair of a baby vamp like you.

You unlock your door again, ushering him in with a wave. As he steps inside you are struck again by how big he is in your tiny apartment. A wave of nostalgia hits you, for a night when you'd still been human, and he'd made you feel like you were the most desirable woman in the world.

Suddenly, your throat is tight.

Wow. Who knew you could still feel these things as a creature of the night? You’ve been so focused on your day to day, or night to night, as it were. You never really allowed yourself to process everything that had happened. You were too busy figuring out how the fuck to survive.

"Do you...want something to drink?" you ask, looking in your pantry. “Or perhaps can I interest you in some whole kernel corn?” Your perishable options have long gone by the wayside, but you still have alcohol, canned goods, and dry cereal. All together, not the most appetizing combination.

A snort of laughter escapes him at your attempt at humor, and he seats himself in one of your surviving kitchen chairs like he owns the place. "Sure. To the drink. Hold the vegetables."

You produce a bottle of Scotch that you may have bought with him in mind after your little tryst, and pour him a couple fingers.

"What about you?" he asks with a glitter of something in those obsidian dark eyes. Even with all your vampire senses, this man is still hard to read as a brick wall.  

You cant your head to look at him, curious what he’s about. That is when you realize... you smell desire. You hear the spike of his heartbeat, see the dilation of his pupils almost lost in the black of his irises. 

His only outward tell is the corner of his mouth curled up, but blood never lies.

You yourself would be a liar if you said you hadn't thought about the way he'd tasted that first night with a sharp longing. 

The sound of his pulse hammering in your ears makes you bold enough to ask, "Why, are you offering, John?"

He lifts one eyebrow nonchalantly, though the sound of his racing heart is sweet sweet music to your ears. 

"Maybe."

Cautious as a cat, you dare approach, a finger sliding along the surface of the table as you regard him curiously. Cool as ever, he leans back in his chair, man-spreading as he looks up at you. You stand between his legs, looking down at him with a new confidence, armed with the knowledge of his blood rushing double-time through his veins. 

He certainly hadn’t sought you out before this. Not once in the past few months has he even tried to check on you. At least, as far as you know.

He tilts his head up, returning your gaze. It’s impressive, really, how little he manages to show on the outside, while you can sense the rising roil of something brewing within him. Lust, you tell yourself. Anything more…would be wishful thinking, on your part.

You really should know better by now, but you still can’t help but carry a torch for this man, stupid little vampire that you are.

“A little warning: I’ve heard some hot shot High Table vampire hunter is in town from New York. You should be careful where you go to hunt.”

Your own heart thumps in your chest. Just the once. You don’t have a regular heartbeat anymore, unless you’ve just fed on someone.

“You worried about me, John?”

“As far as I've heard, you're keeping your nose clean, but I thought you should know."

So he has been keeping track of you. 

"I’m not exactly feasting on the blood of newborn babes."

He winces a little at that, as though you have invoked some long-buried memory. You suppose you cannot fathom the horrors this man has seen in his time battling the Darkness.

"Who are you feasting on?"

"Mostly assholes who deserve a lot worse than what I give them."

It's his turn to tilt his head as he looks up at you, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s. "What does that mean?"

"Do you really want to know?" you ask, propping a hand on your hip. What you really want to do is insinuate yourself into this man’s lap, but some sense of self-preservation holds you back.

"It's why I asked."

"Ok.” You start to tick your recent exploits off on your fingers. “I saved a girl from getting mugged and maybe worse the other day while she was walking to her car at night. Before that, I snacked on a date raper who tried to drug my drink. Before that, I broke up a domestic dispute and made the piece of shit husband disappear. Before that—"

Both of John’s dark eyebrows shoot up.

"Ok, Miss Vigilante Vamp. I get the picture." There's a gleam in his eye, and you almost think he might be proud of you? Or at least, amused. You should not care, of course, but his approval definitely tickles some long-buried little pleasure center in your brain. You always were a teacher’s pet type, for better or for worse. "You should be careful though. You could get hurt."

"By who?” you counter, knowing you sound cocky as hell. “This vampire hunter?” 

“I think you missed the part where I said he’s  High Table?”

“What does that mean?”

He gives you a look like you should know that, but you don’t know how or why you would.

“It means you don’t want to mess with him. I heard he’s here for the Master, but you don’t want to attract his attention.”

“The Master?” You are so confused.

Seemingly exasperated, he lifts his eyebrow at you. It kind of starts to piss you off. “I don’t know any other vampires, John.” And he certainly made no efforts before now to fill you in. 

“Look, just be careful, ok? Just because you’re a vampire now doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

It’s almost touching, that he’s worried about you. It would be, at least, if it didn’t sound so fucking much like mansplaining.

“A girl’s gotta eat, John.”

“Well…you coulda asked.”

You narrow your eyes down at him, knowing they flash a molten orange with your annoyance. The thing he said when you’d first woken as a vampire echoes in your mind, the way it has every night since. I guess they thought you meant something to me.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I told you I’d help you. You kinda disappeared on me after that.”  

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Thinking some distance might be a good thing after all, you turn to go, just to have his long fingers wrap around your wrist. “Wait—” 

You try to pull away, and he doesn’t let go, so you jerk him out of the chair like he’s a ragdoll. You find yourself in a pile on the floor with John Constantine’s solid weight half on top of you—not a horrible arrangement, truth be told, but the context is less than ideal.

“Jesus. Easy there, tiger.”

The fact that this man has the gall to needle you, after everything that has happened, suddenly fills you with white-hot heat, like gasoline on a fire. You’ve been bottling it up for months, just shoving it down so you can do what you have to do, but now everything bubbles to the surface with a vengeance. Suddenly, you are sitting on him, a clawed finger pointing into his chest. “You asshole. I got turned into this thing that I am because of you, because I was stupid enough to care about you, but I was supposed to be the one knocking on your door for a handout? I bet you would have just loved it, if I came crawling back to you for another taste.”

It’s just so fucking unfair.

That you can still feel so much for this man, and maybe he desires you back, but outside of that there’s just nothing. You’re sure of it. It shouldn’t matter to you anymore but it does and it hurts. Jesus fucking Christ it hurts.

You feel too much.

You’ve always felt too much, as a human, and now as a monster, apparently, and it sucks. You feel the sting of tears filling your eyes, and you know they look like blood to him and it’s just so gross you could scream.

“Tell me how to do it,” you hiss through the aching lump in your throat. “How do I feel nothing like you, because I’m so tired of this.”

Constantine’s frown is utterly thunderous below you. You guess it’s a real buzz kill, when people—monsters—emote all over you. He says nothing, just glares back up at you, breathing heavily through his nose.

Only later will it occur to you what a miracle it was, that he didn’t go for his cross, or a holy gun, or gold knuckles, with a spitting mad vampire perched on top of him. He really does have nerves of steel.

Only when you notice a small dot of blood blooming on his white shirt beneath your razor-sharp fingernail you let up, clenching your clawed fists at your sides.  

“Sorry,” you half-snarl, closing your eyes against everything. But now the scent of blood is in the air. His blood, and it is just as intoxicating as you remember from before, and a powerful, prickling heat rises within you, spreading out to him too. Every hair on his body lifts, and you wonder if he reacts to you this way because of his psychic abilities, or if…it’s just the chemistry between you. Some of the tension in his frame softens—other parts of him decidedly do not.

“My life is dangerous, y/n. What happened to you is exactly the reason I don’t have many friends.”

Or lovers, hangs unsaid in the air.

“Yeah. Well…too late for me, I guess. What’s the worst that can happen now?”

“You never want to challenge God like that. Believe me.”

“Why do you sound so certain it’s God who makes bad things happen?”

He snorts derisively. “Because as far as I can tell, he’s an even bigger asshole than I am.”

You look away, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “I’m sorry I called you that.”

Surprisingly he turns your gaze back to him with a finger on your chin. “It’s ok. The shoe fits.”

You get the sense that this is his way of apologizing…maybe, and the last of your anger leaks from your body. You nod, and close your eyes, and one of those bloody tears escapes to make its way down the curve of your cheek. No one is more surprised than you, when he reaches up to wipe it away.

“For what it’s worth…you’re not bad, for a vampire.” Coming from him, that’s quite the declaration. Again, you’re not proud of what it does to you, to receive praise from this man who usually keeps so aloof. 

You dare to open your eyes, your vision sharpening upon him, your vampire senses keen to detect a lie. You can tell he’s a little excited beneath his cool façade, but it doesn’t feel like he’s lying to you. That has a certain smell. A pheromone maybe, or a stink of fear of getting caught.

“Yeah?”

He sits up, so that you are cradled on his lap, nearly nose to nose, and you can’t help but be painfully aware, groin to groin. He’s so tall, and broad, and you still want to climb him like a tree. Another wave of that titillating energy rises in you, a mix of hunger and desire. You know he feels it too. You can tell by the way his eyelids half-close, his grip tightening momentarily on your thighs.

It’s not a horrible development, truth be told.  

“Yeah.”

“Even though I scare you?”

“Let’s go with…yes and no, on that,” he answers with a quirk of the side of his mouth.

“Hmm. You know, it’s hard to lie to a vampire?”

“Can’t say I usually spend much time conversing.” He cups your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair—and you’re not sure you really want to converse anymore either. “I was giving you space—guess I should have kicked down your door.”

“You could have just…knocked,” you tell him with narrowed eyes, smiling in spite of yourself. You feel your teeth pressing into your lips—and you shut your mouth again.

“I know they’re there,” he teases you, surprisingly gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. “You don’t have to hide them.”

You close your eyes again, sighing. “I just…feel like such a monster.” 

Again his long fingers slide through your hair, like he’s petting you. It does things to you, to be stroked like a favored pet by this man. 

“You’re not a monster.” You clench your fists, so moved to hear him say it. And as you do, you can feel your claws biting into your palms. You lift your hands so he can see them. 

“No?”

He examines them, seemingly nonplussed. You guess he’s seen bigger and sharper. “No,” he asserts again. 

Your eyes flick down to the little bloodstain upon his nice white shirt. “I made you bleed.” 

“I probably deserved it,” he excuses with that smirk that pulls at your undead heartstrings. “Keep going like you are, you might get to Heaven before I do.”

“John…” you sigh, a wave of emotion sweeping through you that you can’t even name. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“Me? Nice?” Again, that barely discernible purse of lips, the suppression of a smile that would give him away. 

You find yourself staring at his mouth, before forcing your eyes up to meet his once again. You don’t do it on purpose, but the power of your hunger fills you like a cup, spilling over into him where your bodies touch. This time he gives in to that tingling wave of treacherous pleasure, closing his eyes and letting it wash over him without a fight. Longing throbs in your loins, and hunger in your belly. They really feel one and the same, in this man’s arms.

“You’re…getting good at that,” he tells you, his voice low and gravely with desire.

“It just…happens, with you,” you’re almost reluctant to admit.

He smirks, the way you just knew he would, the smug bastard. “Just with me, huh?”

You roll your eyes to the ceiling. This man.

His low chuckle should not inspire such a thrill inside you. His strong arm looped around your waist, pulling you harder against him, does not help either.

Your claws have retracted again, and you run your hand up the flat of his chest, fingering the starched collar of his white shirt. You are gratified to receive a shuddering sigh as your touch moves higher, caressing the jumping pulse in his neck longingly.

“Bar’s open,” he offers.

It’s your turn to sigh, and you go about undoing his tie, carefully loosening the knot, resisting the urge to tear it off of him. You’ve learned a little bit more about how to control your hunger now, but it’s all still so new. You wonder if you can use it to make this, whatever this is, last longer than the frenzied chaotic rush it was last time.

“Did you miss me, John?”

He doesn’t answer you, just makes a sound low in his throat and leans in to kiss you instead, and with his soft mouth on yours you are content to let it go for now.

Maybe if you read between the lines, it’s answer enough anyway.

It’s a little funny, that the two of you never really make it up off the floor. Wrapped up in the wonderful, heady power that is your hunger, amplified by mutual desire, you are content to shed clothing and trade appreciative caresses there on the rug. You had not forgotten how beautiful this man is, the feeling of his warm muscled flesh beneath your questing hands, and yet still it somehow surprises you.

He makes a face as he pushes your jacket from your shoulders, tossing it unnecessarily far across the room. “You don’t like it?” you tease breathily.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he admits, and goes for your dress next, pulling it up over your head. He stares down at the skin he bared, your lacy push-up bra. He’s kinder to the dress, but maybe just because he’s distracted, ducking to kiss the soft mounds of your breasts.

The glitter in his dark eyes as you extricate his belt from between your pressed bodies should be illegal, it’s so intoxicating. With a hand on his bare chest you press him down to lay back on the floor. He does not fight you, looking up at you with that signature smirk that makes your blood boil. Rolling your hips against his straining erection between you wipes some of the smug off his expression, replacing it with a raw need.

With careful fingers you unbutton his pants and extricate him into the palm of your hand, his velvety length almost searing hot against your cool grip. Your undead body hungers for the warmth of his life, absorbing it anywhere you touch. His nerve falters a little, as he watches your fanged mouth descend towards his swollen manhood, his eyes widening just a bit. It’s your turn to smirk up at him.

“I haven’t tried this yet, John. I’d be very still, if I were you.”

He doesn’t tell you to stop, and the sound he makes as you descend on his hard cock with your silken tongue isn’t pain. In fact, it’s extremely gratifying. You are careful, and as you work him up and down with your mouth he trembles with the effort not to move beneath you. When his fingers tangle in your hair you moan against him, winning a twitch of his hips that would have made you smile, had your mouth not been so very full. You withdraw with a pop that makes him growl with pleasure beneath you. “Fuck, y/n...”

He tries to sit up to reach for you, but you pin him down again with one hand, tilting your head with a playful look down on him. The heated frustration in his narrowed eyes is rather priceless. Maybe you’ll pay for this later, but the predator’s instinct in you is enjoying this immensely.

Too impatient to take them off, you pull your panties to the side to sink onto his beautiful cock, his thick head pushing past your entrance rocking your head back with ecstasy. “John…” you sigh, moving your hips up and down, until he’s seated fully inside you, bottoming out against your cervix. It doesn’t hurt, like it once did. You are learning all kinds of things about your new vampire body.

“I would have returned the favor,” he rasps, his head rocking back hard into the floor as you carefully squeeze him inside you, conscientious of your new strength. It wins you a gratifying moan, his eyes drifting closed.

“Next time,” you answer cheekily. If he can’t admit that he missed you—then you’ll be damned if you say it first, even if it is the truth.  

You look down, fascinated by the sight of his big hands on your thighs, his strong fingers pressing into your flesh. The whip-cord muscles of his forearms draws your eyes, to the curve of his bicep and the sweep of his collarbone—your attention fixes on the jumping vein in his neck like a laser. 

You lean down to lick his pulse and he tilts his head, baring his neck for you. You know that part of it is him riding the power that crackles between you, but another part–it feels like a gesture of trust, and somehow that warms your undead heart. The razor-sharp tips of your fangs brush his pulse, winning you a sigh. “Do it,” he moans, surging inside you, lifting you with his hips. It’s all too much to resist, and with trembling caution you slide your fingers into his hair, and press your teeth into his pale skin.

The resulting rush of blood filing your mouth is intoxicating–by the sounds he makes, not just for you. The rush of pleasure across your tongue and in your loins is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, an exhilarating bliss that spreads warmth through every nerve across your skin.  

You’ve always thought of lovemaking as some kind of small miracle–a gift the laughing gods bestowed upon you poor mortals to make all the drudgery of life somehow bearable. A scientist might argue it is a trick of hormones and synapses played by nature, to encourage the endless march of procreation. You wonder what Constantine thinks about it, this man who so clearly believes in The Almighty God, but also seems to find the deity an insufferable asshat. 

A less than charitable philosopher might argue this beguiling euphoria is just the lure a vampire could use to secure a good meal–but like this, with this man–you cannot help but think it’s more. Whatever ancient magic that animates you, and maybe his own powers mingled too, it grants you this boon in what could be a life of infinite nights of lonely darkness, this undeniable connection with a special human whose lifeblood nourishes you. 

You are not even sure what to call the pinnacle of this pure shining ecstasy you share–orgasm seems too paltry a word. Pleasure, pale by comparison. John insists you are no creature of God, but you cannot help but reason that what you share together is nothing less than divine rapture.

The challenge is when to stop. 

For as long as you pull draught after draught of his delectable hot blood into your mouth, this bliss goes on and on. 

He starts to fade beneath you, his heart slowing. You could drain him dry like this, and maybe not care until the moment you realized he was dead in your arms. This is the thing that throws you back from your latchpoint upon his neck, woozy from the delight of it all, yet scared that you may have hurt him. 

He too seems drunk beneath you, looking up at you through hooded dark eyes. “Why’d you stop?” he asks dreamily. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen this man. You touch his cheek; you are not sure if the coolness of his skin is due to blood loss, or the fact that you feel almost feverish at the moment, riding the high of the blood magic you invoked with him. 

If you hurt him you are walking out into the sunlight, you promise yourself with panic. 

“I’m afraid I took too much,” you admit, wide-eyed. 

Of course, he scoffs at the very idea. “I’m fine. C’mere.” He pulls you down on top of him, to snuggle, you presume. The wonders of this evening do not cease. It is lovely, to curl up in his arms, your thighs slick with the excess of his seed. But as he dozes, you are wide awake, the world come even more alive around you. A potent meal, the magician makes. You feel as though you can sense the whole city in your head. The comings and goings of all the people, and all the creatures, and the planes and trains and cars. 

What a marvel, is this modern age. 

You sift through them all as an amusement, catching snatches of thoughts and bits of conversations, eavesdropping on their lives. 

You realize that you have never been able to read John Constantine’s thoughts. You wonder if it’s because of his psychic abilities–or just a result of his abnormally hard head. 

As you make this little psychic tour around the inhabitants of L.A.--something senses you back. You feel it push against your mind, holding you at arm’s length. Something old, and seething. For a flash you see it–him. Definitely a him, tall and forbiddingly handsome, bearded and raven haired. His eyes flash molten orange–right before he strikes you. It is only a psychic blow but you feel it like a fist between the eyes. It makes your physical body jolt in John’s arms. This stirs him from his bliss-induced coma; the demon-hunting magician blinks and looks up at you, taking in your wild-eyed look, your fangs bared to some invisible threat. 

“You ok, baby vamp?” he grumbles, not too happy to be disturbed from his deep rest.

“Fine,” you answer, unsure if it’s true. “I think I need to get you something to eat.”

“Not hungry,” he grouses, closing his eyes again. “Tired.” 

“Would you like to lay down in the actual bed?” you ask, thinking he will regret this hard pallet tomorrow. 

“No.” Now you can tell he’s just being stubborn. You would like to stay and cuddle with him, but you really are afraid he needs to eat and drink. Fluids and iron rich foods, is what you googled for after-care of donating blood, a while ago.

Funny, until now, you hadn’t had occasion to use the knowledge. 

You dress and pop out to the 24 hour market, obtaining red meat and dark leafy vegetables. When you return John has reclaimed his boxers and stretched his long body out on the couch, his big feet hanging off the end. It’s ridiculously endearing, to see him so relaxed in your space like this. 

When you are nearly done preparing his stir fry dinner, he finally rises to a sitting position, scrubbing at his face with his hands. 

It’s silly, how much it pleases you, when he wraps his arms around you from behind at the stove, his chin resting on your head.  “A vampire who cooks. This is one for the record books.”

“It’s not like I’ve forgotten how,” you fire back over your shoulder, amused. “It just…doesn’t really smell like food to me anymore.” The bloody bits of raw steak had seemed more appetizing than the ingredients in their current form.  

“Hmm. Smells good to me.” You thought he’d come round to food. “This does too though,” he teases, kissing your neck with a playfulness that leaves you dumbfounded. When he nibbles you can’t help but squirm, laughing out loud. 

“John!”

He must still be power drunk from earlier. He’d barely touched his glass of Scotch.

You feel his body shake with mirth behind you, more than hear it out loud. Then he stills against you, resting his chin on you again while you stir the meat and vegetables, the rice steaming on the back burner. You know it won’t last past tonight, but the scene is so damn near domestic it makes your heart ache. 

“What did I feel, earlier?” he asks. “Like, a gust of air in here. Did I dream it?”

You honestly aren’t sure how to answer that. It’s not that he wouldn’t believe you. You just…don’t have the language–and you don’t want to worry him. 

“I don’t know, I was half asleep,” you say, so smooth in your white lie, craning your neck back for a kiss. “Sit down. It’s your turn to eat.” 

As you bring John his plate of food your attention is drawn to the window, by what you’re not really sure. Nothing is there, you see nothing, you feel nothing present–and yet…you cannot shake the sensation that you are being watched. 

Almost as though to assure yourself, you reach out to brush an unruly dark lock of John’s hair behind his ear. He looks up at you with a lazy, almost boyish smile. It squeezes your heart. “Thanks.” You’re pretty sure he means for the food, but maybe…the rest too. 

You smile, and you know it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He seems to sense something is up, but maybe he doesn’t want to wreck the moment yet either. He catches your hand, kissing the back of it, before picking up his fork and tucking in. 

Again, you look to the window, and the mean city beyond it, and wonder how many malevolent things out there could mean the two of you ill.  You don’t think you have too many enemies of your own yet–but in John’s case? 

The number could be infinite.

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I really loved the Idia fic you wrote for the yandere alphabet letter. If it’s alright, could I ask for something related to one of the other letters? The part about how Idia would hate to break his darling because part of his darling would no longer exist.

I’ll admit, I kind of want to know how he’d react to a darling that became of shell of their former self after the kidnapping. If there was any genuine love there at all, I imagine it would break his heart. Thank you!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Angst, I like it. I did some hcs this time, otherwise I would hog this ask for me and answer it much later, like I did with that other fic lol. Only thing I had to say is: poor darling. They deserved better.

He has gone too far. He has broken you beyond repair. He knows it, he can feel in his bones that something is not right when you look at him with those dead eyes. But he ignores the signals and cope by working as usual. He can pretend everything's fine and that you still love him or else he'll break down crying.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia wasn't thinking about the consequences of his actions when he kidnapped you. He was angry, he was terrified to lose you. You were flirting with someone else (you were not, he is just insecure and an overthinker). He can see your injuries half healed, he can hear your shallow breath and barely audible whispers of fear everytime he is near. You used to be so happy to spend time with him, braiding his hair, cuddling into his side while binge watching animes with him. He didn't know he would lose this.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You break very fast, almost like glass. And he can hears shards of glass exploding every time he looks at you. There's no blood on his hands but he feels like there is, he feels like he killed you and the person in front of him is different from the one he used to love, that one was full of life, happy and had a warm smile on their face. This you, unkept, emotionless, isn't the one who he fell in love.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ This you don't get the motivation to shower, don't have the motivation to eat or to talk, even if only to swear at him. This you is like a doll. A doll he washes and dress on your favorite comfy clothes, a doll he spoon feed you your favorite foods.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He feels so guilty about what he did that when you're sleeping, when your face finally relax from your usual tense and tired expression, that's when he cries a river. Tears streaming down his face as he silently begs you to come back, to fight him again, to swear at him and hit him. He just want you to come back. The you he used to know and love... The you forever lost.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Now Idia didn't like you talking with other people but he'll try to get you into therapy. He wants to try anything that possible could bring you back. He throws himself at your feets and beg you if you wanted, just so you can call him pathetic and useless and a bad lover. You could spit on him and he would thank you for it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Thing is you are too tired to respond to therapy, too tired for anything. You can only wish for things to end, to be a bad dream. But of course, Idia won't let you remain motionless on your room, crying as you listens to the silence and feels phantom pain all over your body. From your perspective, he may like this. He always liked the control he had over you, always reading your texts, always arguing with you about your friends.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But you were broken and nothing he could do, nothing he can plan could fix his mess.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Green Light

Summary: Full Story! Andy is over the moon when you finally get the green light to be intimate again after the birth of your babies. But how do you explain to him that you're not quite comfortable with your post-pregnancy body just yet? Check out the sequel: The Green Light Afterglow.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Light Smut, Daddy Kink, Insecure Reader, Discussions of Post-Pregnancy Body, Discussions of Intimacy, Slight Lactation Kink Reference, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I know this took a while. Thank you all for your patience and I sincerely hope it's okay. Prompt courtesy of an anonymous reader. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Warnings subject to change. All mistakes are my own. Please let me know your thoughts!

___

“Well, I’ve gotta tell you, my dear, by all appearances you’ve healed just fine.” You let out a sigh as Dr. Wilson, your OBGYN, removes the speculum. God, how you hated that thing. “You can go ahead and sit up.” You watch as he removes his gloves to make some notes on his mobile workstation. “Everything looks good. How have you been feeling lately? Raising four kids is no easy feat, especially when half of them are newborns.”

“Andy and I try to split the shifts as best we can. If he’s helping with the twins then I’ve got the older girls, and vice versa.”

“That’s good. One thing I’ve always liked about the two of you is that you believe in teamwork. You’d be surprised at how many couples don’t.” He makes a few more notes. “And how many hours of sleep would you say you get a night? Ballpark it for me if you can.”

“Um…” You have to think about that one. “Maybe five. Yeah, I would say about five hours a night. And I can occasionally squeeze in a quick nap during the day when the twins are sleeping. It doesn’t happen all of the time, but it’s better than nothing.”

The older man nods his head. “And how are Bianca and Katrina adjusting to the new additions? And by the way, don’t forget that you promised to show me pictures, because I certainly haven’t.” Dr. Wilson looks up from his computer and offers you a warm smile.

“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.” You tell him with a chuckle. “And they’re okay. Bianca loves to hold them all the time. And Katrina is enjoying being a big sister – she’s very helpful. She wants to play with them so bad, but she doesn’t quite get that they’re still a little too young.”

“I see. And is she still threatening to put A.J. outside?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he struggles not to laugh just like he had when you’d first relayed your three-year-old’s initial reaction to your pregnancy reveal. 

“Oh, God. She’s only made that threat twice I think since we’ve brought them home. Once when he wouldn’t stop crying. And then again when she wanted to cuddle with me while I was in the middle of a feeding. Other than that, she’s been fine. He’s growing on her.” 

“Glad to hear it.” He mutters. “That’s usually how it goes. Give it a few years, and I bet they’ll be the best of friends.”

God, you sure hoped so. Just last night you had a dream about finding your little boy out in the woods. Except he’d somehow grown a beard, making him look like a baby mountain man. And, of course, he had been clutching that damn blankie too! 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I’m officially giving you the all-clear to resume any and all physical activity. If you have any concerns after we’re done here, you know I’m only a phone call away.”

Thank goodness! You couldn’t wait to start working out again. You were tired of rocking stretchy pants and maternity clothes. 

Your phone buzzes in your purse as Dr. Wilson finishes up whatever else he’s typing. It goes on for a while before it finally stops, only to resume buzzing seconds later. 

If you were a betting woman, and you were, you’d put your money on the person behind all the constant buzzing being none other than your husband, Andrew. You knew he’d been waiting for this day. Your man had been extra giddy this morning. So much in fact that you could’ve sworn he’d clicked his heels on his way out the door.

___

Twenty Minutes Later…

You wait to check your phone until after your appointment is over and you're safely back in your car. According to your phone, you have two missed calls from Andy Bear, along with three new texts.  

Andy Bear: Hey, baby girl. How’d the appointment go? Did we get the all clear?

Andy Bear: Can you answer your phone, please? I want to hear your sweet voice when you tell me the good news.

Andy Bear: C'mon! You’ve got me dancing on pins and needles right now. Call me.

You shake your head and then dial your man. He answers on the second ring. 

“There you are, sweetness! I was starting to get worried there for a moment.” The genuine concern in his voice has you playfully rolling your eyes. 

“Relax, Andy. Sometimes these appointments can take a while. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong, Dr. Wilson is just being thorough.” You check your appearance in the rearview mirror, noting that the bags under your eyes seem to look better than they have in days. “That’s part of the reason he’s been my OBGYN for so long, because he’s good at what he does.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s great.” You know he's not being dismissive on purpose, it’s just that he’s chomping at the bit to hear one key piece of information. “How’s your little body? Did we get the green light?”

Ahh, and there it was. Sometimes Andrew Barber was like a dog with a fucking bone. And only your husband would refer to your body as being “little” when you were still walking around sporting maternity wear.  

“I’ve been cleared for all physical activity. Which means I can finally start working out again and –”

“Fuck, yeah we did!” He cheers into the receiver, loud enough to make you wince. “Alright, baby girl, that settles it. BiBi and KitCat are going to my sister’s for a sleepover and the twins will stay at grandma’s. Meanwhile, I’m gonna leave the office early to pick us up some dinner. How about we celebrate with some surf and turf?”

“Oh my god, Andrew! We are not leaving our two newborns at your mother’s house for the night. That’s too much!”

“What if she already said yes?” You have no doubt that your unrepentant husband is smiling hard enough to crack a tooth right about now. 

“You didn’t.” Your head drops to the steering wheel with a light thunk. 

“Oh, I did.” The sound of an eager chuckle spills across the other line. “Ma and Bill are happy to keep Rory and Junior. She said you left them with enough formula and diapers to get ‘em through and that she, and I quote, would be positively heartbroken if you deprived her of time with her precious new grandchildren.”  

“Andy…I don’t know…” As tempting as the thought of a night of uninterrupted slumber was, you were on the fence about being away from your precious babies for that long. 

RoRo needed to be rocked to sleep, while A.J. needed you to pat his little tush and bounce him just so. And they both needed approximately 1,375 kisses every five minutes, otherwise they got fussy. 

“You must really want a good night’s sleep, huh, Big Man?”

“Baby, when I get my hands on you, I promise that sleeping will be the last thing on both of our minds. Now, I’ve gotta run. But I’ll see you home around 4:00pm.”

“Andy…” 

How did you tell your husband that you weren’t really feeling your post-pregnancy body right now? You’d even taken to changing in the bathroom lately. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice that increasingly bad habit of yours…

At least not yet. But it was only a matter of time.

“Hush, sweetness. You just let Daddy take care of everything, okay? I’ve been dreaming of this day for almost two months now, and I plan to take my time loving all over every inch of your delectable body. And what’s more, you’re going to let me.” You can practically feel your nipples pebbling beneath the fabric of your shirt. 

God, how did he always manage to sound so sexy when he was telling you what to do? Handsome ass buttface!

“I’ve gotta head into this meeting, but in the meantime, get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” You respond with a resigned sigh. “I…I guess I’ll see you when you get home then.”

“Damn right. Can’t wait to lose myself between those luscious thighs.” Andy rasps, with a slightly roughened edge to his tone. “It’s been way too long since I’ve had a taste…” 

Oh good God…and it had been way too long since you had to deal with beard burn. At this point, you’d almost forgotten about what it felt like.

“Bye, Andy Bear.”

"Goodbye, little love.”

The call ends, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Putting the car in drive, you pull out of the parking lot and start thinking of every argument you could possibly make to talk your sweet, although slightly ogreish, husband out of sexy times and into sleepy times. But there was also something that told you that might not work.

Which meant it was time to come up with a Plan B. And while you were at it, probably a Plan C too.

___

Later That Afternoon...

“This makes me look like an apple with legs.”

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror trying your best not to give in to the overwhelming feeling of defeat. At this point, you’d tried on multiple sets of lingerie – all different styles, cuts, and colors. 

And this one had been the only thing that seemed to look halfway decent.

Well, the good news was that your ass was still there. But the bad news? So was your stomach. 

“Swear to God…I’m gonna find an ocean and throw myself in it.” You mutter as you stare at your reflection. You let out a resigned sigh as you do a little spin. “Knowing my ass can’t swim.” You gently smoosh your hand against your tummy in an attempt to flatten it. 

To be fair, you’d only given birth two months ago and the lingerie you’d purchased was kind of slimming so…

Maybe you were being too hard on yourself. Or, maybe it was still worth trying to convince your husband to settle for an evening filled with dinner and cuddles. You really weren’t in the mood to take your clothes off in front of him at the moment. 

Hell, who were you kidding? You could walk around wearing nothing but fishnets and tinfoil and the man would still find a reason to be into you. 

Sometimes your loving husband was a man of the hopeless variety. 

Plus, while Andrew Barber wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, he would definitely do everything in his power to persuade you. And he could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. 

Yeah. You were probably fucked.

You take a deep breath and run your fingers through your thick hair, loosening and fluffing your curls. Although Andy would be home any minute, there was still time to throw on sweats and a t-shirt or something. 

“Fuck!” You hiss as your eyes well and your bottom lip begins to tremble. The other problem was that, while you were convinced that you needed more time, you also wanted to make your husband happy. But how could you when you could barely stomach the idea of taking off your clothes in front of him.

Just last week, some asshole at your favorite smoothie bar had the nerve to ask how far along you were – his intrusive gaze lingering on your post-baby body. His audacity had caught you so off guard that you were pretty sure that you’d given some unintelligible answer before snatching your drink and running towards the nearest exit. 

That one little interaction had practically eviscerated what little bit of self-confidence you had left. And while you hadn’t made specific mention of it to Andy, you might end up doing so – if only to plead your case. 

Which was that you were simply too large right now to be sexy, let alone feel attractive. Your skin was too loose, your stretch marks too prominent. And not only that, you were pretty sure that the only reason Andy wanted you right now was because he hadn’t gotten any in a couple of months. 

Once his itch had been sufficiently scratched, the haze would clear and then your husband would see your body for what it was. He would understand your need to undress behind closed doors, without an audience. And then he would give you however much time you needed to get yourself back into some semblance of shape. 

A lone tear slips down your cheek, which only serves to piss you off more. And although you’re quick to dash it away, another one is soon to follow. The last thing you needed for Andrew to notice you’d been crying. There was no need for both of you to feel bad about the state of things, you know?

With one last shake of your head you decide to throw on your robe and head downstairs to greet your man. 

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

___

Ten Minutes Later…

“Baby?” Your husband calls out as he enters the house from the garage. “Baby, I’m home! Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” You go back to busying yourself folding your brand new set of dish towels you’d purchased from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. That store was one of your happy places, second only to Target and Disney World. It also helped that there was one located almost directly across the street from the mall you’d stopped at as well.

Your pulse quickens as you hear him approach, his rapidly falling footsteps coming closer by the second.

“Ah, I found you.” Andy rounds the corner, grinning from ear to ear. “Hi, my gorgeous girl.” His smile somehow grows impossibly wider. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”  

“Well, here I am.” You cast him a demure glance over your shoulder. “Although, I’m afraid I’m probably not much to look at.” Noticing his hands are surprisingly empty, you attempt to change the subject. “I thought you were gonna stop and grab dinner on the way?” 

“I was.” He cocks his hip against the kitchen counter as loosens his tie. “But since you didn’t seem all that keen on the idea of surf and turf this morning I figured I’d hold off. Maybe see how we were feeling later this evening.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh? Is that all my baby has to say about that?” Andy tosses his tie onto the counter before unfastening the top three buttons of his light blue dress shirt. “Just oh?” 

“Uh, yeah. How was your day?” You were quickly running out of towels to unfold and refold. If you kept it up you were going to start looking like a lunatic.

“Too long for a man who’s been missing his wife the way I have.” His sensual purr is enough to make you weak in the knees. “It was fucking excruciating, Baby Girl.” 

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye – fuck! Your dumbass just made fucking eye contact!

Your throat suddenly goes dry as the weight of his intense gaze threatens to overwhelm you. Andrew Barber always seemed to have this way about him. Only he had the power to unravel you in this manner. 

It was truly a skill that was his alone. But on days like today, it was also a major nuisance.   

“Come here.” The gentleness of his tone softens the command.

“Umm…” Instead of doing as you’re told you decide to shove those stupid towels you’ve been preoccupied with into a drawer. Which also happens to be the wrong drawer. Kitchen linens didn’t belong with the cutting boards. Anybody with some sense could see that!   

“Sweetheart…” Andy’s voice drops another octave. “Stop fussing with those and come here already. I’d really like to hold my wife.” His earnest plea has your eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah. Okay.” You sniffle out, before dropping the towel and making a headlong dash into his waiting embrace. He wraps his brawny arms around you then, tucking his chin into your thick mane of glossy curls.

The two of you stand there without moving. Holding each other close as your hearts beat in time with one another. Andy’s hand comes to rest on your lower back, his palm slowly rubbing in small, soothing circles. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” He hugs even tighter as you gently nuzzle your face against his chest, effectively wiping off what little bit of makeup you’d managed to apply earlier. “Tell me, please.”

Aww. Your sweet Ogre had even said “please”. 

“Nothing.” Which was also code for everything. 

Andy steps back to tenderly grip your chin, his thumb lightly smoothing across your bottom lip. “You know Daddy doesn’t like it when you lie.” And then he leans in to brush his mouth over your own. “Especially when you’re upset.”

“I know.” The words come out barely above a whisper. “And I’m fine. I just, um…” You go to pull away, surprised when he actually lets you. “I went and did a little shopping today. You know…cuz’ we got the green light. But – well, not the robe. Th–that isn’t new. But once I got it home and really looked at it, I um…” You throw up your hands as everything comes tumbling out in one jumbled mess.

“It just doesn’t fit right, okay? It probably didn’t even fit properly at the boutique when I tried it on and I just didn’t notice. Because the lighting was different and the mirrors are maybe a little more forgiving. Kind of like the ones you find in a funhouse. Except all of them were super flattering. Not like the one we’ve got in our bathroom here at home. Which…I mean that’s probably how they get ya, right?”

Your husband lifts a quizzical brow as you continue to ramble and slowly back away. You knew there was quite literally no possible chance you could manage to outrun your handsome attorney. But that didn’t mean you weren’t above giving it the old college try.   

“So, I’m just gonna go upstairs and peel this ugly thing off. That way neither one of us has to even bother looking at it.” You finish rather lamely.

“And why exactly do you think I wouldn’t want to look at you? How about you explain that one to me, please?” Andy growls, jamming his hands into the pockets of his trousers.                 

“Because I don’t like the way I look right now and I’m pretty sure that if I show you, then you won’t either.”

Andy stares you down, the muscle ticking in his jaw. But you were beyond caring at this point. Right now was about acknowledging the truth regarding your body and the level of comfort you had with it.  

“That’s bullshit, baby.” He rakes an impatient hand through his hair, moussing the auburn strands. “You know I love the way you look. I fucking adore you.”  

“And that last part may very well be true, Big Man.” You concede, toying with the material of your robe. “But I, um...” A lump forms in your throat, but you force yourself to press on. “I do believe you love the way I look when I’m pregnant, yes. So do I…mostly. And you also love the way I look when I’m not pregnant. As in, after I’ve lost a healthy chunk of the baby weight.”  

“What in the–? I mean, Jesus fucking Christ!” Your husband cuts himself off mid-sentence as he rocks back on his heels – as if stunned by your admission. 

“I’m saying this wrong.” Good lord, you needed to get a better handle on the direction of this conversation. “Fuck! I know I am. But I don’t feel very good about myself right now. I don’t want to take off my clothes. I don’t want you to see me in this lingerie. Because I am almost entirely convinced that once you do – once you see all that I’m currently working with – you will change your mind about wanting to sleep with me.”

“You don’t mean that.” Andy scoffs under his breath, which you ignore.

“And if I see that…if I see that switch flip behind your eyes when it finally clicks just how unattractive I truly am…I don’t think I could handle that.”  

As hard as this was, it was important for you to make him understand. And once you were finished, perhaps you could cook the two of you something for dinner.  After that you would simply settle in and enjoy an easy, child-free night.

“Meaning?” Andy grunts.

“Meaning, I’m not taking off this robe tonight.” You blow out a weary breath as your hands go rest on your hips. “In fact, I don’t even know why –”

“Are you finished yet, sweetheart?” Your husband finally interrupts, apparently having had enough of your tirade. “Or do you have more? Because I’ve gotta tell you, as nice as it is that you think you’ve decided all this shit for us, your Daddy has quite a bit to say. So, are you fucking finished?”

“Y–yes.” That strange lump in your throat is back. “But I –”

“Stop. If you’re going to be done, then be done.” Andy interrupts again, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “Baby Girl…I know what you’re doing. Even if you don’t, even if you can’t see it. I do. And I’m going to put a stop to it right now.”

“I’m just telling us both the truth!” You cry before you can catch yourself. 

“No. You’re feeding us both lies. And I won’t stand for that shit. Not for another goddamned moment. I–I just won’t.”

The passion in his voice is enough to temporarily silence any forthcoming protests. 

“And what’s more,” Andy forges on, “you’re not giving me even a shred of credit here. Which, and I’ve gotta be real honest with you here, kinda pisses me the fuck off.” Now it’s his turn to sigh, although this one is filled with exasperation.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking down at your toes.

“Look. At. Me.” The authority in his tone has your head snapping up immediately. 

“Have I ever, and I do mean ever, in all the years we’ve been together, given you any indication that you are anything but beautiful to me?” He takes a step towards you, even as you take one back. “I quite literally worship the ground you walk on, sweetness. Which means that I occasionally notice things, even when you think I don’t.”

Your husband takes another step towards you, and then another. He’s getting closer, purposely crowding you with his big body – essentially trapping you like the predator that he was.   

“There has never been a time, not once, when I have been less than hopelessly attracted to you. I want you all of the goddamned time. And, you know, maybe I should seek professional help for this shit, but I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Because I love my wife. I adore every single inch of you.”

You jump when your back collides with the refrigerator, the cool surface of the stainless steel appliance piercing your skin through the thin fabric of your robe.

“So what is it, Baby Girl? What is that you’ve got under there that’s got you so convinced I’m going to be disgusted by what I see.” Andy levels you with a pointed look as his hands go to gently grip your biceps, caging you in. “What is it you’re trying to hide from me?”

You close your eyes when it becomes too hard to look at the man you loved more than anything - the man who was surely about to become your undoing.     

“While I appreciate your so-called brand of honesty, sometimes it hurts me when you talk about yourself like this. When you doubt yourself in this way. When you doubt me. Doubt us.” Andy briefly rests his forehead against yours before continuing. 

“How am I supposed to help you battle these insecurities if you won’t even let me in the ring, sweetness? Sometimes you make it damn near impossible to – fuck!” He hisses, breaking the almost tender embrace before reminding himself to pause. “Okay.”

“I–I’m sorry, Andrew.” This time you don’t bother trying to fight back the tears when they come. Instead you decide to let them fall, realizing that it might finally be okay to let your husband catch you.

Before you broke completely and shattered into a hundred-million little pieces.   

“Why on earth are you apologizing to me right now?” He cups your face with his hands as he brushes your tears away. “I’m not shaming you. I’m just…” He takes another calming breath. “I’m just talking to you. I thought we were expressing how we felt about things, weren’t we?”

“Yeah.” You give him a quick nod as more tears make their way down your cheeks.  

“Okay.” He presses a sweet kiss to your nose. “Then will you trust me to show you something?” Again you nod before allowing him to lace his fingers through yours and pull you in the direction of the hall.

“Wh–where are we going?”

“Hush.” 

He leads you down the hallway in silence, not stopping until you’re both standing in front of the full-length mirror located in the foyer. And then he reaches around to undo the knot on your robe, sliding it off your shoulders and letting it pool on the floor at your feet. 

“Well, would you look at you? Is this pretty little thing what you bought for me today?”

“Mmhm.” You breathe, resting your head against his broad chest while your man looks his fill. Andy smooths his hands up and down your sides, lovingly kneading your ample curves. “It was the only thing that I felt, um…like it might be okay.”

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Baby Girl.” Andy playfully nips at your ear. “You still trust me? Okay, good. Then let’s take this off, too.” He reaches for the skirt of your lingerie.

“But why?” You whine, attempting to wiggle out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, your Big Man refuses to let you go. “Wait!”

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” Even though he’s pushing you, you can tell he’s also trying to keep a lid on his patience. “We both have. You got to make your case back there in the kitchen, young lady. Which means it’s now time for your Daddy to make his, don’t you think?”

While you weren’t quite sure where this was going, you also weren’t sure if you were ready to use your safe word yet. If that particular rule even applied right now.

“I – alright.” You concede before lifting your arms so that he can help remove the flimsy garment, leaving you naked and bare to his gaze. Goosebumps rise on your vulnerable flesh as you shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

Safe to say, catching a chill was the last thing on your mind. You just wanted to get this shit over with, whatever it was, and then move the fuck on already.

“Be a good girl and open your eyes for me, little love.” Andy purrs, lightly running his fingers through your curls. “I want to show you what I see every time I look at you.” 

It takes you a moment, but eventually you’re able to do as you’re told. But instead of focusing on your own reflection, you choose to look at your husband – taking comfort in the warmth radiating from him.

You wanted to trust him. You really did.     

“Thank you. Now, I want you to do your best to hear me.” Andy begins as his hands come up to rest themselves on your shoulders. “You are gorgeous no matter what size you are. And I am consistently awed by the fact that you, my darling wife, just gave birth to two healthy babies a little over eight weeks ago. My babies.” You receive a tender kiss to the back of your neck.

Your lower lip begins to tremble of its own accord. But this time you don’t look away, instead you follow the path of his fingers as they trail their way down your body.

“It’s because of you, and your magnificent little body, that I’m lucky enough to have four pieces of heaven running around this house, making noise and causing chaos. Giving me both a reason to live again along with a few new gray hairs at the same time.” 

You watch as he lifts your breasts, hefting the erotic weight of them in his palms. He gently massages them, completely unfazed by the light dribble of milk leaking from your left nipple. Instead you’re treated to another roguish grin as his tongue darts out to greedily lap up the stray drops from his knuckles. 

“Fucking delicious. But stop trying to distract me, baby.” He rasps, his tone just shy of teasing. “We both know you’re not quite ready for me to feast just yet.” And then he winks at you, which suddenly has your legs feeling like jelly. 

Although you flinch when his focus shifts to your belly, the pads of his fingers tracing along one of your more prominent stretch marks. He keeps his touch light - bordering on reverent - as he marvels at the angry stripes painted across your skin.

The ones formed out of a natural bond built between a mother and her children. 

“I love this part of you. This part right here where you – aw, no. Please don’t look away from me, honey.” Andy moves to kiss away a fresh wave of tears. “Let me see those eyes.”  

“I…I...” Your mouth clamps shut as you stifle a hiccup. You grant yourself a couple of seconds before opening your eyes again. This time when you do, you gently place your hands on top of his. “I’m sorry. I know, you love this part of me because of the kids. And I get it, I do. But…” You shake your head and give up.

Because something tells you that perhaps you’d be better off just listening for right now. 

“Yes, I absolutely love this part of you because of our rugrats, but that’s not the only reason. It’s because, as much as I adore your tight little pussy and that spankable ass of yours, your belly has always been it for me.”

“What?” Now that has your full attention.    

“I’m not kidding.” He asserts. “I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with you, probably because I thought I’d run the risk of sounding dumb. But your belly has always been my favorite feature because it’s…it’s my anchor.”

Your husband’s heartfelt admission actually has the nerve to throw you for a bit of a loop.   

“I’m serious.” Andy continues, leaning down to press a hard kiss to your cheek. “There’s something about whenever the world feels like it’s falling apart all around me and then I reach for you, because that’s what I do. And you’re always there for me, my love. Always.” He gives you a light squeeze. “And without fail, you just let me hold you like this, wherever we are. And I just…I feel better.”

“Swear to God, I’m a grown-ass man, but this part of you brings me so much comfort. I understand the fact that you struggle with accepting your body the way it is right now, especially after welcoming the twins. But please believe me when I tell you that where you only seem to see your flaws, I see strength. I see incomparable beauty.” 

Andy takes that moment to fully envelope you, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle and burying his face in your hair. You allow yourself to stand there for a little while, drinking in the sight of your devoted husband holding your nude body.

You’ve never felt more loved. More cherished than you did right now.  

“Andy Bear…” You whisper, your voice filled with emotion. “I…I don’t quite see what you see. Not yet. But I do think I feel it now. More than I did anyway.” 

You let out a surprised yip when he spins you around. His intoxicating blue eyes bore into your own as his hands move to tease the globes of your ass.

“You should know that I wasn’t finished yet, princess. I just spent the last several minutes composing a sonnet dedicated to that greedy pussy of yours. Then there’s those luscious thighs, and that ass. I also never really had a thing for feet until I met you, but I’m particularly fond of those too. I’m prepared to wax poetic about it all because I want you to see what I see.” 

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. And when you decide to let it loose, it’s quite literally the most wonderful feeling in the world. You feel lighter than you have in days.

It’s enough to make you start crying all over again.   

“I love you, Andrew Barber.” You murmur, rising on your tiptoes to take his lips in a brief kiss. “And I know you had what I’m sure was one hell of a speech planned, and while I really hate to cut it short, I’m thinking I might wanna take you to bed now.”

“Oh?” His tone is rife with cautious optimism. “Is that right?”

“Yeah.” Giving in to impulse, you proceed to tickle his ears. He makes a show of batting your hands away as he playfully dodges your advances – much to your delight. Although he eventually puts an end to things by picking you up and holding you close.

“But can we maybe take it slow?” You ask as you snuggle into his chest, basking in the safety and security of his familiar scent. 

“Of course.” Andy murmurs as he spins on his heel and heads towards the direction of the stairs. “We have all night, my precious girl.”  

That was the moment you knew without a doubt. The moment you finally believed that everything he’d said, every word he’d spoken to you, had been nothing but the truth.  

And later that night, when you collapsed on the bed feeling completely sated with one another, you thanked your lucky stars that fate had led you into the arms of the one and only Andrew Barber.

END

For more about Andy and Reader's first time making love after welcoming their twins, be sure to check out the sequel, The Green Light: Afterglow.

[blacklegsanjiii]

Was rewatching Drum Island, and thought of a what if Sanji was somehow raised by Dr. Kureha.

Of course, this would mean Sanji knew Chopper before their in canon meeting, so Chooper would be his little brother.

WAIT WAIT THAT IS SO CUTE???

Kureha finds this random starving eight year old and is raising him on this winter island where the king is trying to get rid of all the doctors. Sanji is terrified of her because she's not nice, not in the beginning. He's always cold and reading her few cook books over and over again. She is explaining that food is vital to medicine and healing so they start focusing on nutrition and diets on top of everything else. Sanji also has small and nimble fingers so he's a pro at suturing. They know Hilruck and his quackeries that he does, so when he gets a student that's a reindeer of all things they shrug it off. Sounds like him.

Kureha also has to know. She reads the news and sees what's going on. She brings it up to Sanji and says she knows what he is at some point but then shrugs and says his father's an idiot. He's smart, he quick, if Judge thinks him a failure for not being a weapon he missed on all the practical things Sanji can do. He's a great nurse and knows everything there is to know, on Drum Island at least, there is to know about nutrition and feeding people. She only talks to him about it once and they don't speak of it again. He trains against the soldiers who try to come after him and Doctorine.

Sanji is sixteen when the deer comes to live with him. He's taking care of his wounds as after Hilruk left him in their care to teach him medicine. They work well as a team and it's great, he's got a little brother who is a fuzzy little reindeer who is so warm. They curl up together more often than not because Kureha isn't exactly touchy feely. After what happened with the mushroom and Hilruk, Chopper's not exactly keen on being alone, not after his herd too. So Sanji holds him.

He's down in the village getting some supplies when he meets the Strawhat crew looking for a doctor and Dalton asks Sanji to take them to Kureha which he agrees to, he still kicks Nami and Luffy out of the way of an avalanche and is carried up by Luffy. They take care of Nami and Luffy before him and he gets a stern lecture from both of them as he gets. He shrugs as he gets up to start cooking and Chopper starts berating him that they did put a metal plate in his back and he needs to take it easy despite his super healing and Sanji laughs as he heads to the kitchen and starts cooking until he hears that rubber lunatic start chasing Chopper and yelling about meat. Chopper runs into the kitchen with tears streaming down his face and hides behind Sanji as Luffy chases in after him and Sanji kicks him away. Sanji manages to get Luffy to calm down a little bit as to not torment his little brother and so Sanji can keep cooking. Chopper tells Sanji to take it easy again or he'll get Doctorine to tie him down. Sanji joking threatens to let the idiot eat him.

Suddenly he has Chopper wailing and crying and begging him not let the idiot eat him, he's just worried, Sanji, he doesn't wanna die~. Sanji laughs and promises he will not let the idiot eat him but he does have to cook so he puts Chopper on his shoulders to be out of his way and safe from Luffy. They eat and then take food to Nami and Doctorine and they're all relieved to see her awake and the antibiotic worked. Sanji makes sure the food is appropriate for a pirate, especially one that's been sick recently. Then Wapol shows up and tries to take the flag that means so much to Chopper.

So they fight and win and yeah, Hilruk wasn't exactly lying. It was a good mirage as they're running to the ship. Sanji had always dreamed of finding the All Blue and he wasn't going to leave his little brother alone with a guy who tried to eat him earlier and his crew and they most likely need someone who will know how to take care of their diets for their travels. He meets the rest of the crew with his little brother and a literal princess. Pirates man.

Also he and Chopper make an excellent team in caring for their new crew. Chopper likes the green haired guy who seems to have a bone to pick with him. He doesn't get it but if Chopper's happy he won't exactly interfere. Zoro seems to lord it over him but Sanji shrugs it off because Chopper having someone who likes him is more important than whatever rivalry they have going on. If Chopper is trying to set him and the swordsman up Sanji is going to toss the little deer to Luffy for a day. Watch him.

[zenkindoflove]

Whats your ship? gwynriel/elucien 🥰

When was the moment you shipped them?

What are your top 3 reasons why you ship them?

What is one thing you'd love to see in their book?

What's your ship? gwynriel/elucien 🥰

Elucien is my ACOTAR OTP. It's the whole reason I'm here. I'm not a Gwynriel shipper. I feel confident they'll be end game, and I'm open to seeing what their relationship is like. But I'll be honest, you'll be hard pressed to get me to really ship Azriel with anyone.

When was the moment you shipped them?

As soon as he showed protectiveness of her going into the Cauldron. Look, I was desperate for Lucien to have a love interest when I was reading. I was obsessed with him from the start and he was my favorite. So as soon as I saw the signs develop in the Hybern scene, I could feel my body activating how it always does when a ship is taking over me. And I was like OF COURSE it would be Elain. She is a character archetype I gravitate towards. So the fact that SJM put my favorite character with this female character who I was already prone to like and then slapped on one of my favorite tropes (arranged marriage/strangers to lovers) I was destined to be obsessed.

What are your top 3 reasons you ship them?

1. I love a good lady/reformed rake pairing. It's my favorite in historical romances. I know everyone really loves sassy Lucien and I do absolutely as well. But there is something so delicious about the sassy, flirt being so dumbstruck and nervous around the FMC. Like he's like that with no one else but he desperately doesn't want to fuck this up. Like literally feed that shit into my veins. And it makes the uncovering of his scoundrel side that much more satisfying. The presentation of the gentleman and then the unraveling of both her and him through the sexual tension. COME ON. What isn't to love about that?

2. Second chance at love. I really like that Elain and Lucien LOVED before each other. I think it's so compelling that rather than being each other's first and only, they instead have loved and lost. It's going to make their healing journey with each other so much richer. They have experience on their side to really know what it is that they want.

3. I really love that they know about the bond. It makes the tension HOT from the start. Its really at the core of fated mates tropes. Why is this person MY person? And the reluctancy and curiosity that come with that. Also I think the way they've been denying being around each other is going to make their sexual chemistry even better.

What is one thing you'd love to see in their book?

Oh god I have so many head canons and hopes and dreams for what to see. But ultimately I would love to see them be in a situation where they can learn about each other away from the IC and their prying. I think that puts a lot of stress on them breaking the ice. I also really want to see them both grow and explore their magic and figure out their identities together. I see Elain and Lucien as both lost people trying to find their place in the world. And I want them to find that with each other.

[mushroomnoodles]

the lovers/vampire au hcdump part 2, with a focus on petrigrof (characters drawn in my style)

once again putting under a read more; these are notes ive put down while riding home from work on the bus. here's pt 1 btw.

On the subject of THE HANGED MAN

something simon thinks about often is the sheer stagnance of vampirekind. vampires are a species that stay the same forever- they don't evolve or change; hell, the vampire kingdom is old school, even to simon.

simon is physically weaker than an average vampire- he suspects this is due to the radiation poisoning he suffered from before being turned. it takes him longer to heal and he doesn't have possess vampire strength the others of his kind have.

simon doesnt really mind this- he merely observes this fact. his body stayed the same way it was the morning betty bit him; the same way it was after her bite mutated and changed his body for the last time. plus, simon is a man of habit.

a thousand years of life with betty has made simon more open with her; they talk, like, about how they feel, how their relationship feels.

simon has grown quite philosophical and his field of study has expanded. being undead gives him this subconscious duty to put his eternal life to good use: the library. an ode to scholars and thinkers, adventurers and collectors. an ode to the humanity he left behind.

he always says sorry to the few humans he's ever directly fed from.

simon has only fallen to blood frenzy once.

simon's library is quite frankly, huge. you can't reach the books on half the shelves without flight or telekinesis.

current research focus is on procuring the ice crown. (he would be immune to its effects as a vampire)

simon refuses assistants and servants because they make him feel weird, despite the fact THE LOVERS could absolutely have them in their chambers.

simon loves his side job as a professor btw. he always gets so cheery and dorky when it's that time of the year for him to get his students.. and he loves history!! he definitely goes on old man rants about "his day" every now and then

being pregnant with morrigan made him wonder if perhaps there WAS a cure for vampirism after all. he'd entertained the thought every now and then despite the fact that everything he looked into claimed it couldn't happen. but if his body could still remember how to function like a human's, then it didn't seem so impossible to him.

On the subject of THE WORLD

a great strategist- but she misses traveling the world, researching and hunting for ancient artifacts with simon. this is not her dream.

cooking food was a love language and hobby for her. sux when you and your hubby can't eat food.

loves making morrigan snacks (they're a living vampire and can eat food!)

betty's whole thing is.. improvise. adapt. overcome. she keeps working hard so she can keep winning hard.

her fangs are VERY long. they always jut out of her mouth despite her best efforts, and she has to hide her mouth when incognito.

that makes it kinda hard to kiss simon but she's had a thousand years of practice!

due to the length of her fangs, her feeding bites are always fatal.

she is considered very beautiful. simon agrees

spends a lot of time out and about. she is also the vampire king's current advisor, so she spends a lot of time by his side. it's probably a good thing, and a better thing he trusts her. but she worries. she isn't as ruthless with the subject of conquest as others would like. sure, vampires are powerful, but taking over everything.. would upset the balance of life. they'd exhaust their resources.

she can be pretty scary. betty has learned to project an intimidating persona to keep up her role as battle strategist and advisor. it helps keep others off her back, too.

betty is in part so successful because she is constantly improving upon herself and adapting, she challenges vampirekind to change. it's just so hard for them to do.

betty adapts well to new settings. she finds it.. reasonably easy to settle into new situations, especially when human spying is involved. she just needs a feel for her surroundings.

betty can be ruthless, sure, especially when simon is involved in the danger. but she remembers her roots. she would never cause harm to a human that was not a threat.

she partially trained marceline to fight before the vampire king took over her training.

she's stressed. simon is her escape. she always gets to their chambers, throws her expensive and intricate robes off.. and embraces simon.

dramatically lounges and climbs all over simon in her sleep. subconsciously heat seeking.

worries that if things come to it and they leave the kingdom, simon will be unhappy. he seems to really like it here.

sleeps naked 80% of the time

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

here to ask about your voice classpecting!!

sorry i asked for this and then immediately took twelve years to answer it anyway

The Broken as Maid of Doom - because of his role serving The Princess, especially the iterations of her more connected with her apocalyptic powers (The Tower, the Moment of Clarity.) using the interpretation of "Maid" class being in the service of their aspect, or serving another more powerful player (Porrim babysitting Kankri/The Dolorosa raising The Signless, Aradia tidying up timelines and eventually coming into the service of godtier!Calliope, Jane being conscripted into the service of The Condesce (notably another Life-aligned individual)).

The Cheated as Mage of Light - The Cheated's obsession with the "unfairness" of their situation reads to me as a good thematic link with the concept of Light as it's defined in Homestuck as a representation of luck, especially with his occasional gambling references ("we're the house now, we make the rules" from the ending for example.) As for Mage, I'm going with the speculation that Mages are those deprived of their aspect but who are able to bring it to others (Meulin being a talented shipper but not having much luck in love herself, Sollux correctly foreseeing the deaths of his friends and his virus causing their session to be cursed, but cheating death again and again.) The Cheated, while generally at the butt of the most unfair situations, brings about luck to others; He can be a part of The Thorn route, where despite being betrayed he breaks the cycle of violence with The Princess, and his role as a ringleader in The Razor's route is what inevitably gives The Quiet the lucky break of empyting his mind in order to fight The Razor.

The Cold as Sylph of Void - The Cold just HAD to be a Void player there was no other way. being empty is His Whole Thing. I decided on Sylph as the class bc of the healer/protector connotations - "healing through nothingness" is hard to conceive but is arguably what The Cold was doing in the Moment of Clarity and Razor routes by trying to convince the other Voices to adopt his emptiness in order to shield themselves from pain.

The Contrarian as Witch of Rage - Rage, the aspect of chaos! While the Contrarian does seem keen on bringing chaos, at first they seem a poor fit for Rage as they don't seem to bear any negative emotions, never getting angry that I can recall. However, this ties into the Witch class as "one who defies the rules of their aspect" - The Contrarian is addicted to the chaos that Rage brings, but facilitates it without the anger or physical strength that are usually also tied to it. He's also able to defy the rules of the narrative in general, being the only Voice whose presence allows throwing the knife out the window.

The Hero as Rogue of Hope - The Hero is hard to place, being less of a larger-than-life character than the other voices, but I think of them as someone willing to facilitate any plan that they think is for the greater good. He gives up much less easily than some of the other Voices, so Hope is a natural choice, and as for Rogue - I think no matter what route you go down, the Hero ends up going along with it in a way that ruins one character's dreams in order to benefit another character, but not himself. He goes along with killing the Princess, robbing her of hope, in order to feed the Narrator's hopes of a world without death. He helps free The Damsel, crushing the Narrator's hopes but feeding hers and the Smitten's. Even in the ending, his arrival gives the Quiet hope, where it previously had none, while also at the same time ruining the Shifting Mound's hopes of ending the clash quickly.

The Hunted as Page of Life - The Hunted's number one concern is keeping themself and the other voices alive, with everything else coming second - he is content to dodge forever, as it keeps him alive, which ties into the motives of a Life player. Pages, of course, are known for the inauspicious starts leading up to massive potential. The Hunted starts off as meek and frightened, but when his instincts kick in, he is one of the most capable Voices in a fight, able to keep the system alive against The Razor longer than the other Voices as well as having the instincts necessary to dodge The Beast and defeat The Eye of the Needle out in the open.

text block break because apparently Tumblr parses lists as one text block and this hit the character limit

The Opportunist as Thief of Heart - The Opportunist is self-interested, and willing to screw others over to get his own way - the essence of a Thief's role! He also has a tendency to put on different "masks" depending on who he's dealing with, which is apparently a quintessential Heart player thing according to the Extended Zodiac (and true given what we see in the comic - Dirk is constantly being duplicitous and Meulin subconsciously hides the fact that she's working with Kurloz. Nepeta's roleplaying could tie into this as well.) "Thief of Heart" would be "one who robs the soul or identity of others in order to benefit themself," and the Opportunist's handing of the knife to The Witch, leading to The Thorn route, robs the princess of her agency, a central part of The Witch's identity (as she is one of the Princesses who quickly escapes her own chains.) It's also worth mentioning that four of the six routes which lead to The Wild - the route where the player is robbed of their individual identity - involve The Opportunist's influence.

The Paranoid as Heir of Mind - I'm going with the "Heir as protector/protected" interpretation here (John saved by the Breeze before he learned to use his powers consciously, Equius blocking out Scratch's omnipotence/his blood blocking out information/him using his fists to defend himself AKA using nothing, Mituna burning out his psychic powers saving the dancestors from an enigmatic disaster). The Paranoid uses a mind-over-matter approach to protect himself and the other Voices from The Nightmare's effects, and his anxieties about what could happen after any given choice also seem very Mind-coded.

The Quiet/The Player as Knight of Breath - The Quiet's defining role in the story AND within the system itself is as "the one who makes the choices." this makes him logically a very active class, and Breath a suitable aspect, as it deals with having freedom and choice more than is afforded to other players (John being unstuck from the narrative, The Summoner's revolution being an attempt at bringing freedom to the lower castes.) Knight as the class choice is mostly just because of the hero associations, but also because The Quiet, when freed from the other voices, is a competent fighter as seen in Mutually Assured Destruction. Knight of Breath would be "one who uses freedom/self-expression/choice/self-direction as a weapon," which is somewhat true of the player; if the player attacks the vessel while in The Long Quiet before his awakening, it says that you lash out with your "will."

The Skeptic as Seer of Space - The Skeptic, regardless of route, is intent on testing the boundaries of the world to discover its secrets. He wants to know the rules of the world they live in - as such it makes sense for him to be one uniquely equipped to find those answers. Admittedly I think this one is kind of weak.

The Smitten as Bard of Blood - THIS ONE IS PERFECT AND I WILL HEAR NOTHING AGAINST IT. Bard of Blood would be "one who invites destruction/allows destruction through their relationships with others." The Smitten's ENTIRE THING is that their passion for the Princess in all forms leads to her always advocating letting her out, thereby destroying the world. Bards are also known as wildcards that either save or doom their teams, and The Smitten is one of the few Voices that seizes control and does so for varying motives, including ending his own life after the player slays the Damsel. 10/10 no notes lines up perfectly.

The Stubborn as Prince of Time - Time is one of the most combative aspects, according to the Extended Zodiac, and the Prince one of the most combative aspects. What's more, Princes are usually devoid of their aspect, having destroyed it in themselves, and The Stubborn is characterized as deeply impatient (lacking in time). The Stubborn is certainly a destroyer, as they are the only Voice who suggests smashing the mirror. What's more, their obsession with fighting to the death with the Princess could be seen as wanting to "destroy the time" that both of them have left.

I'll also throw out lunar sways based solely on vibes:

Prospit: The Contrarian, The Hero, The Hunted, The Opportunist, The Quiet/The Player, The Smitten

Derse: The Broken, The Cheated, The Cold, The Paranoid, The Skeptic, The Stubborn

[searchingforserendipity25]

Hi! I loved your Nolofinwean headcanons. 💛 for Arafinwean familial relationships? — @emyn-arnens

Thank you for the ask @emyn-arnens, I'm glad you enjoyed the Nolofinwëan ones! Here are some Unusual Arafinwëan familial headcanons:

orodreth is his mother's favorite, bar none. this is not a secret.

finarfin does not have favorites. this is a lie.

angrod leaves little of himself in history, but he is the happiest of them all, for as long as he does live.

he is the one who dies first, and the one who had been most certain he would die first. his last years are full of smoke creeping in the corners of his eyes, a paralyzing urgency. if only fingolfin had heeded him - if only their cousins could be bothered to stir from complacency -

he dies very bitter, bitterly satisfied. one things all chronicles agree on: he did tell them so.

finrod and finduilas share a love for sculpture. many of the carved colonnades of nargothrond were made by her hand; the style shows up, with some variations, in the avenues and streets of lindon.

aegnor and angrod go on a five-year adventure trip on the Ice with fingon. it takes eldritch beasts, five toes lost to frost burn, a long quest for rare healing ingredients for idril's recovery based on old, old songs from the Crossing for their friendship to be renewed, after alqualondë. they remain each other's dearest friends and among their most important people until the end.

galadriel thinks very little of nolofinwë's wishy-washy political approach to achieving power. if she had been second-in-line to finwë's throne, with the backing of the vanyar and well-established in the city, none of her brother's would have been able to keep her from orchestrating her rise to power.

finrod might have. but in the end finrod won and lost a realm well before she had one of her own, and there was little satisfaction in being the last, the wisest, the most enduring.

gil-galad and finarfin meet three times. this is long enough for them to discover they share the same eyes, the same sense of humor, the same principles of leadership. this does not improve anything, and in fact makes it considerably worse.

gil-galad and celebrimbor do not talk about nargothrond. the whole of their relationship consists of very pointedly not talking about nargothrond, while basing their political and personal stances on everything that once happened in a kingdom now long under the sea, where the only lady of the king's line spoke long into the night of philosophy and craft and unmarring the marred with the most promising young goldsmith of the noldor.

celebrían smells it, something. the ash, the smouldering stone dust. her nightmares are all of the bragollach; but she does not often remember them.

galadriel, whose mind perceives all, even the seeping dream-stuff of her daughter's sleep, lies awake in her talan many nights through, remembering what she does not.

celebrían does not see them, in captivity: finrod is made anew, aegnor chose enclosure in the dark of mandos till the end of the world. but she hears him, at times. her first-dead uncle, angrod the iron-handed, whispering to her through the fever of her torment - here the links of the chain are weakest, there the steel of her captor's mail might be rent by a sharp stone, clawing fingers, teeth.

a spark of her nails on the walls of the cave, and if she is clever, she can use a cut of her hair as fuel to feed a spark. orcs fear flames more than anything, more even than she does.

the queen receives many guests, but there are no spare rooms in eäwen's private quarters.

[gabessquishytum]

I have SO MANY Immortal Throuple thoughts and I need to share them. so here's one of them (either Dom/Sub AU or just... regular dom/sub stuff) :

Hob saves Calliope and they become good friends. It takes a while, but that morphs into being friends with benefits- specifically of the dom/sub sort. Calliope needs to feel like she has control again, and Hob needs the submission.

And so they go on like this for months.

-

And then Dream comes back and Hob tells him he's welcome always, no matter the time or location.

-

And that's how the three of them find themselves: in Hob's room, Hob himself collared and arms bound in leather behind his back, bent over and held up only by Calliope's hand in his hair and her toy cock inside him.

Calliope, naked behind him, one hand fisted in his hair and the other on his hip.

Dream, in front of the bed, standing, staring.

All of them frozen.

And as Hob says, "Dream", Calliope thrusts back in and he moans it instead and she asks, "Won't you stay?" and says things like, "Look at him, crying for you, drooling for you, made for you. Won't you take him?"

Hob whines because it's true but he's unable to say it, what with Calliope fucking into him from behind and his friend standing in front of him. All he can do right now is moan and stare into Dream's eyes and hope he gets the message.

It seems he does, as Dream finally touches him, placing fingers in Hob's mouth before finally taking his cock out and feeding it to him. He's not gentle about it, almost immediately fucking into Hob's throat.

Calliope lets Dream take control of his head and moves both hands to his hips, thrusting harder.

Hob... Hob is in bliss.

Omg one of my favourite immortal throuple thing is when Calliope is the one who orders and directs Dream to fuck Hob. He just needs that helping hand, you know? And he simply can't refuse an order from his beloved former wife.

Dream is, of course, full of thoughts about how Hob doesn't need him, Hob is much better off with Calliope, Dream should probably just get out of his life forever... and he gets this stern look from Calliope that just says "You DARE sand yourself out of this room right now and I WILL beat your skinny little arse into the next dimension". And well. Dream isn't out here looking for a spanking, so he stays.

Hob’s eyes light up and he squirms backwards more onto Calliope's strap. He's obviously such a needy boy, so maybe Dream should stay and help to handle him? Calliope looks like she's got it all in hand to be fair, but maybe it would be ok for Dream to join in?

Meanwhile Hob’s subby brain is going BRRRR at the thought of his two favourite people domming him. His mouth opens so sweetly for Dream’s cock, and he gags so perfectly until hot tears run down his cheeks. He's looking up at Dream and leaning back into the press of Calliope's hands, and he has genuinely never felt so fulfilled. This is what he was really made for.

Calliope smiles kindly at Dream, and their fingers tangle together over Hob’s back. To be able to work together to make Hob feel good and give him the submission that he truly needs, heals some of the wounds between them. There's obviously so much room for both of them in Hob’s life, and he obviously wants them both.

Afterwards, Hob ends up squished in between Dream and Calliope, sweaty and warm and human, full of softness and sleep. Dream thinks he's beautiful, and that Calliope is incredible. He thinks that he might be the luckiest man shaped creature in the world.

Calliope winks at him, and he pretends that he's not crying. And Hob snores happily. And the next day they do it all again <3

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: January 2

I've been doing my best to get caught up on a verrrrrrry long reading list. I know I sound like a broken record, but I'm a super slow reader (both in having the time to read and actual reading speed), and many of my favorite writers are bananas prolific, so it's easy for me to fall behind. My lists for the immediate future will probably be in character groupings, since that helps me organize and sift.

Today you're getting these lovelies in some fic I've been loving!

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EZRA

Cross My Heart by @brandyllyn This wins for my favorite of the week. How can it not, when it is from my Secret Santa???? Brandy softens our scoundrel but keeps his dangerous edge which I really love and appreciate. This could have been your regular Gift of the Magi fic, but it goes above and beyond. Not only do these lovers do what they can to give each other the world, they get to keep their spoils too. My heart would follow his anywhere. <3

untitled by @brandyllyn So after reading Cross My Heart, I decided to catch up on the remaining Ezra fic of Brandy's I haven't read yet and I was not disappointed, not at all. If Ezra came to me for advice on how to touch a lady, I don't think I'd be able to hold myself together this well...

When They Disentwine by @brandyllyn Holy BALLS this is hot like fire. A little misunderstanding leads to some really delicious punishment--read the warnings. Do I like a little danger in my Ez? Fk yeah I do. Soft and dangerous. This serves.

Hold Fast to Dreams by @brandyllyn Here it is, friends. One of the most beautifully written, soft, wonderful Ezra stories full of books and hope and healing and it's rendered me nearly speechless. I don't know what else to say except DANG.

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MAX PHILLIPS

Bangathon: Position: Reverse Cowgirl by @prolix-yuy Oh. My gods. I did not expect the soft. And yet. Here it is. And I am clawing for it. The moment he realizes he's actually into her kind of destroyed me. And I love that they're both in the same place...fkn hells. I swoon. This's the good stuff.

Negotiations by @prolix-yuy Another treat from LJ with a softer, yearning Max. Yes, he's got more ego than he should have, but it gets a swift, satisfying kick in the ass when he comes up against you. And do you ever give him a run for his money. A lovely little twist and sweet surprise.

A Rough (Pumpkin) Patch by @blueeyesatnight Can we all acknowledge how satisfying it is to witness Max get pouty when he doesn't get his way? And then twist things around to make his own fun? He may hate hay rides and pumpkin picking, but if you're the only two in the field, there may be more fun to be had....

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by @chronically-ghosted I too would be tempted to tell Max to feed from me while we did the do. But you know what I am? A soft girl with a weakness for a build up. So imagine my joy when I found out this was a series in progress...one bite/drink/base at a time! And there are feelings? What! This is all my monsterfkr dreams with Max come true.

Polynesian Kiss by @morallyinept Listen. He's Max. He's your boss, and he's a vampire, and you're his PA. And blood donor. And bang buddy. And you just can't make it into work because your cramps are murder. Lucky you, you've just become a dispenser for Max's favorite treat, and he is here to FEAST. I love a man who loves his meal, and goodness does he ever enjoy you. TASTY.

Blood & Tinsel by @morallyinept Read the warnings on this one, because Max has his influence on and you're not submitting to his office booty call of your own free will. But you would if he'd let you. He doesn't know that. Yet. I love how Jett writes his reaction to that little tidbit....she's got this power-hungry jackass down.

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EDDIE THE VAMPIRE

An Act of Kindness pt. 2 by @missredherring Oh my gosh, Eddie's become a rescue pup! He has nowhere to go and nobody to look after him and he was so young when he turned...he's so confused. I just wanna comfort the boy. It's a good thing Bella's here to look after the little darling. (Guest appearance by one Jack Daniels with mentions of Max Phillips and a Liam easter egg.)

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WING PIT GUY

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #3: Daniel (Wing Pit) - Distracting Kiss by @something-tofightfor Rachael's Wing Pit Guy is named Daniel and there's just something about him that's comfortable and goofy and total boyfriend material. (And he can clean a chicken wing bone in one smooth go.) You know that kissing him is gonna taste like sauce, and since he really loves his wings, you know that sauce is gonna be good. And real. And sweet. Just like this fic.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #11: Daniel Harper (Wing Pit) - A Kiss After Pain by @something-tofightfor It's finally time for a real first date, but before that, time to meet Daniel's dog. Raider is just a dog, doing dog things and doesn't mean to slip up. But istg if anyone here hurts Raider I will burn this site to the ground. There's a really sweet kiss in here and I am all for it. But I am having trouble deciding if I love Raider or Daniel more right now...

Smutsgiving 2023: Sweet Potato Casserole / Daniel Harper (Wing Pit Pedro) by @something-tofightfor First of all, marshmallow fluff is genius. Second of all, I don't care how sticky it is. I hate sticky and I would still allow supreme level boyfriend coded Daniel to cover me in it.

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TIM ROCKFORD

Rockford & Roan Pt. 5 by @littlemisspascal There's a number of reasons why I'm freaking out about this chapter. It's dark. There's a body. Tim is mystereously cold and Roan is being warned not to be taken advantage by his less than perfect tendancies. Doubt is strewn. Our Very Good Boy Banjo is a little doggie king. And then there's the special guest star, complete with cliffhanger...and I'm in LOVE.

Morning, His Place by @words-are-fireproof A slice of life, an early morning in the kitchen with Tim before he has to leave for work. And yet, in just a short piece, there's so much detail and background given between the characters, just in the little things they say and do, the pictures on the wall, the things Tim forgets. Simple and lovely.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #5: Tim Rockford - Jealous Kiss by @something-tofightfor Black Days Tim has a hold on me, and Rachael's given him a lot of groundedness and depth. He's not surprised by much, except when he surprises himself.

Smutsgiving 2023: Apple Pie / Tim Rockford by @something-tofightfor Another Black Days Tim, and this one has him apologizing to his lady for not being home for Thanksgiving by utilizing his desk when she comes to visit him. Yes plz.

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DIETER BRAVO

Star Boy by @ezrasbirdie I'm in love with the Star Boy and his Cool Girl so so much and this installment in the Starstruck Series was no exception. They have so much to navigate together and it can't be the easiest thing to date a movie star. But I'm willing to take the chance if he love love loved me this very much.

Misfire by @qveerthe0ry If it's something I'm fascinated and enamored of, it's a boy that comes untouched. Dunno why that's a kink of mine, maybe I just find it endearing when someone loses control. This one has no romantic or sexual connection to it though, and it's Dieter actually being embarrassed. I am not above smiling while watching that man be flustered and suffer a little.

Bravo, Dieter. by @juletheghoul If you haven't had a taste of Jules' writing (first of all, where have you been), then this is as good a place as any to start. Pretty writing, smooth Dieter, make up sex ahoy, and all the neck nibbles you can't keep your cool over....

Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls by @missredherring While there's some verbal teasing, this is a working relationship, but a good one. I mean, I don't know if I'm in the right crotchspace to let Dieter paint my naked body and be cool about it, but if I was, I would hope it would be as endearing as this.

Dress Me Up and Call Me Pretty by @morallyinept This is one of the hottest things I have ever read. Dieter is an absolute mess, his own worst enemy, and reader is an angel who gives him everything he needs--and discovers she likes it too. The LOVE. The kink. The marathon. The care. Just go. Go now and get your strap on.

Run Over By A Reindeer... by @blueeyesatnight Blue has such a good grip on Dieter and I love his perfect balance of shithead horny actor and genuinely nice horny guy. I laughed out loud at this multiple times too, because Blue's also good at Dieter's dipshit humor. This is definitely one of my favorites this season.

Smutsgiving 2023: Stuffing / Dieter Bravo by @something-tofightfor This is Dieter from Rachael's Locked Down series and I have a real soft spot for these two...and for this particular take on Dieter. He's someone who surprises you constantly, showing a disaster to the world while being actually put together underneath. Stuffing shows up in more ways than one here. As does mention of a raccoon....

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #10: Dieter Bravo - A Kiss While Baking by @something-tofightfor This one is sweet in every sense of the word. Brownies, kisses, heartfelt feelings, a peek at a possible future... I love Locked Down Dieter so much and it's nice to see him domestic and happy.

Touch Me Touch Me Touch Me by @missredherring It's subby D time! This time with a free use kink and some audio erotica built in! At first I was a little sorry for our needy boy, but man, does he get it in the end....and how.

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[varpusvaras]

"What's wrong with you?" Twenny hears Seventeen ask Fiftys. "That's a longer face than the Long-necks necks if I've ever seen one."

"Twenny keeps carrying Tennie everywhere", Fiftys mutters.

"Jealous? And here I thought he got Tennie because you absolutely refused to be babied."

"Ew, no", Fiftys says. "But at this rate Tennie will forget how to walk, and then they will take him away, and then Twenny will cry."

Twenny grips Tennie tighter.

"He will not", he says. "And even if he does, I will keep carrying him. He's small."

"He won't be small forever", Seventeen points out. Twenny grips Tennie even tighter.

"He's my little brother", he says, or more states. "I will always carry him."

Seventeen decides to leave it at that, and that's just how Twenny likes it.

---

"You're gonna have to start carrying him on your back soon", Sixies says. "He's getting long. He looks like one of those bugs, with his legs sticking out like that."

Twenny knows that Tennie is sticking his tongue out at Sixies from where he is resting his head against Twenny's shoulder, his arms around Twenny's neck.

"He's too cute to look like a bug", Twenny says. "And I will carry him how I like."

---

He does have to start carry him on his back eventually. At that point Twenny is Cody and Tennie is Fox, and everyone has been telling him that he's just being stubborn and that it was already time for him to stop carrying Fox around like a tubie.

It's way too early for Cody, still.

---

"I didn't know you were such a light-weight", Wolffe teases Fox, as Cody drags him out of 79's.

"Don't bully him", Cody tells Wolffe. "I've seen you under the table too many times for you to be able to say anything."

Wolffe just rolls his eyes as Cody pulls Fox onto his back.

"I'm taking you to our barracks for tonight", Cody says. "You can go back to the Guard's base in the morning."

Fox hums something against the back of Cody's neck. He really is light, Cody thinks then, and he cranes his head back to look at Fox. The only thing he can see is his little brothe's bangs.

"They feeding you enough here?" He asks, and Fox hums something again, too far gone to actually answer, and Cody hoists him higher and tells himself to ask again in the morning.

---

"Don't you think I'm a bit too big for this now?" Fox asks him, his voice coming muffled from where he is speaking against Cody's pauldron.

"Never", Cody answers instantly. "You're my little brother. You cannot be too big for this."

"Okay", Fox answers, and then he is quiet, as Cody carries him up to the higher levels, where the Guard's medics are already coming towards them.

Cody feels weird when he puts Fox down on the gurney. Tight. Too light, like there is a chunk of his flesh suddenly missing.

He ignores it. Fox just has a light concussion and a sprained ankle. He could've gotten himself out of there by himself, by all accords, not that it had mattered to Cody in the slightest. Fox is his little brother. Of course Cody can come and carry him back home.

Fox is fine, and Cody is right there, his hands ready to reach.

---

His dreams have shifted, lately. Almost every night, Cody is standing there, alone, his hands reaching for something, but his arms stay empty, too empty, too light. There is a piece of Cody missing, a piece that is almost the size of himself, if not at the same time impossibly bigger, a gaping wound in his flesh that will not heal.

It will not heal even when he is awake, now, spilling his blood freely wherever he goes, leaving a trail behind him that only he can see.

Cody knows grief. He knows it like it's the second nature of him by now, but something is wrong with it this time. It's like he is already grieving, even though nothing has yet happened.

His General looks at him, sometimes, and from the look in his eyes Cody wonders if he can see the blood as well, if he somehow knows that this is Cody's destiny, and that there is nothing he or anyone else can do about it.

Cody carries it, like the soldier he is.

---

CC-2224 carries it, like the brother he is, and he tries to understand how something can be too light and too heavy at the same time.

Perhaps it is just like how he can be a big brother without a little brother, his arms heavy with the emptiness they now carry.