#followed by renewed anger

[winepresswrath]

a thing I like about feanor is that he's so explicitly the best boytm of the story and yet he a) fucks up so frequently and spectacularly (normal, very Greek of him) and b) taps out early and contributes relatively little to the plot except by way of the damage he's already visited on his family and society. Enjoy that for him immensely. sorry baby your legacy is that all of your sons and brothers and nephews and nieces & let us be real almost certainly your sisters have had their personalities and worldviews shaped at least a little bit by your mommy issues.

[conceptionsofconciousness]

The Nakshatra Colors

In Astrology, every Nakshatra has a color which it is associated with. The color of the Nakshatra works in two primary ways. Internally and externally. This article piece focused on the Internal.

On an internal level, the color of the Nakshatra has a psychological effect. According to color theory every hue, shade, and tone affects the spirit and consciousness. Every Nakshatra color internally takes on the psychological traits of color, integrating into the consciousness and personality.

The colors of Nakshatras internally are best applied to the Nakshatra placement of the Sun, Moon, Rahu, and Ketu. This is because all 4 of these planets relate directly to the internal consciousness.

The Traits of a Nakshatra Color brings the following traits into the inner self or personality:

Ashwini - Blood Red

Active Excitement Energy Invigoration High Metabolism Fearlessness Intensity Power Passion Fire Love Lust Arousal Affection Aggression Anger Violence Warfare Terror Survival

Bharani - Blood Red

Active Excitement Energy Invigoration High Metabolism Fearlessness Intensity Power Passion Fire Love Lust Arousal Affection Aggression Anger Violence Warfare Terror Survival

Krittika - White

Independence Youth Innocense Completeness Openness Blank Slates Possibilities Creativity Purity Virtue Cleanliness Simplicity Peace Tranquility Cleansing Efficiency Order Soothing Isolating Empty Boredom, Criticism

Rohini - White

Independence Youth Innocense Completeness Openness Blank Slates Possibilities Creativity Purity Virtue Cleanliness Simplicity Peace Tranquility Cleansing Efficiency Order Soothing Isolating Empty Boredom, Criticism

Mrigashira - Silver Grey

Fluid Sensitive Soothing Calming Restorative Reflection Intuition Clairvoyance Wealth Prestige Quiet Reserved Compromising Blending In Unemotional Indifferent Loner Isolated Depressing

Ardra - Green

Going Motion Equilibrium Balance Harmony Health Wellness Nutrition Vitamins Fitness Growth Fertility Prosperity Progress Wealth Freshness Renewal Stress Relief Relaxation, Nature Inexperienced Envy Greed Jealously

Punarvasu - Lead Grey

Intelligence Wisdom Dignity Experience Neutrality Balance Impartiality Clear Thoughts Compromising Faith Truthful Formal Modern Future Advancing Technology Protective Private Reserved Blending in Loner Isolated Background Existence

Pushya - Black Red

Black

Power Control Protection Elegance Formality Professionalism Standing Out Mystery Dramatic Enigmatic Aggression Anger Fear Anxiety Grief Despair Anxiety Sadness Evil Death Mourning Loneliness Lethargy

Red

Active Excitement Energy Invigoration High Metabolism Fearlessness Intensity Power Passion Fire Love Lust Arousal Affection Aggression Anger Violence Warfare Terror Survival

Ashlesha - Black Red

Black

Power Control Protection Elegance Formality Professionalism Standing Out Mystery Dramatic Enigmatic Aggression Anger Fear Anxiety Grief Despair Anxiety Sadness Evil Death Mourning Loneliness Lethargy

Red

Active Excitement Energy Invigoration High Metabolism Fearlessness Intensity Power Passion Fire Love Lust Arousal Affection Aggression Anger Violence Warfare Terror

Survival

Magha - Cream

Openness Seriousness Intense Respected Esteemed Admired Durability Sophistication Refinement Humility Athletic Ambitious Competitive Cautious Held Back Adversarial Sore Loser Antagonistic

Purva Phalguni - Light Brown/Tan

Natural Organic Warmth Comforting Cozy Calm Relaxed Logical Analytical Creative Artistic Security Luxury Elegance Conservative Dull

Uttara Phalguni - Bright Blue

Optimism Enthusiasm Bright Alert Peace Clam Tranquility Relaxed Meditative Zen Recharging Intelligence Concentration Focus Connection Strong Values Integrity Honesty Attractive Connection Helper Assister Rational Capable Composed Competent Precise Responsible Reliable Trustworthy Loyalty Social Cold Sad Down

Hasta - Dark Green

Bold Controlled Steadfast Conservative Edgy Fertility Drive Desire Money Materialism Hunger Indulgence Moody Oversaturated Overwhelming Flooded Overloaded Gluttony Excess Resentment Spite

Chitra - Black

Power Control Protection Elegance Formality Professionalism Standing Out Mystery Dramatic Enigmatic Aggression Anger Fear Anxiety Grief Despair Anxiety Sadness Evil Death Mourning Loneliness Letheragy

Swati - Black

Power Control Protection Elegance Formality Professionalism Standing Out Mystery Dramatic Enigmatic Aggression Anger Fear Anxiety Grief Despair Anxiety Sadness Evil Death Mourning Loneliness Letheragy

Vishakha - Gold

Optimism Positivity Charisma Passion Wisdom Understanding Enlightenment Success Knowledge Wisdom Great Understanding Triumph Achievement Reputation Wealth Quality Giving Compassionate Loving Selfishness Over-complexity

Anuradha - Reddish Brown/Maroon

Warmth Beauty Primal Emotional Passion Power Strength Determination Confidence Courage Spirited Depth Ambition Force Risk Creative Wise Spiritual Impulsive Anger

Jyestha - Cream

Openness Seriousness Intense Respected Esteemed Admired Durability Sophistication Refinement Humility Athletic Ambitious Competitive Cautious Held Back Adversarial Sore Loser Antagonistic

Mula - Bright Yellow

Happiness Positivity Cheerfulness Inspiring Illuminating Optimism Hope Promising Striking Insightful Wise Humerus Vibrant Stimulated Engaged Overpowering Intense Excessive Warning Caution Deceit Restless

Purva Ashadha - Black

Power Control Protection Elegance Formality Professionalism Standing Out Mystery Dramatic Enigmatic Aggression Anger Fear Anxiety Grief Despair Anxiety Sadness Evil Death Mourning Loneliness Lethargy

Uttara Ashadha - Copper

Down to Earth Warm Homely Wealth Comforting Impassioned Lively Energetic Strong Determined Supportive Genuine Classy Successful Accomplished Egotistical Cheeky Envy Hypocrisy Cynicism

Shravana - Light Blue

Feminine Welcoming Soft Comfortable Safe Calm Gentle Ethereal Peaceful Tranquil Soothing Refined Cultivated Stylish Approachable Concentration Focus Connection Strong Values Integrity Composed Competent Precise Responsible Reliable Trustworthy Superficial Delicate Frail Cold Sad Down

Dhanishta - Silver Grey

Fluid Sensitive Soothing Calming Restorative Reflection Intuition Clairvoyance Wealth Prestige Quiet Reserved Compromising Blending In Unemotional Indifferent Loner Isolated Depressing

Shatabhisha - Cyan/Aqua

Rational Liveliness Nature Healing Therapy Restoring Correcting Mending Remediation Stability Tranquility Clarity of Mind Emotional Balance Serenity Creativity Spirituality Dreams Fantasy Trances

Purva Bhadrapada - Silver Grey

Fluid Sensitive Soothing Calming Restorative Reflection Intuition Clairvoyance Wealth Prestige Quiet Reserved Compromising Blending In Unemotional Indifferent Loner Isolated Depressing

Uttara Bhadrapada - Purple

Power Wisdom Inspiration Creativity Imagination Fantasy Spiritual Devout Philosophical Future Minded Resourceful Selfless Humility Wealthy Luxury Nobility Extravagance Impractical Immature Arrogance Cynicism Melancholy

Revati - Brown

Sensual Sensitive Warm Comfortable Stability Reliable Secure Steadfast Natural Wholesome Dependable Structured Homely Sincere Reassuring Genuine Practical Supportive Dull Mundane Boring Predictable Inexpensive

[luna-azzurra]

Reactions to grief

Denial and Disbelief: Initially, a character may struggle to accept the reality of their loss. They might refuse to believe that their loved one is gone, clinging to hope or desperately searching for any signs of their presence.

Emotional Turmoil: Grief often brings intense emotional upheaval. Characters may experience profound sadness, despair, anger, guilt, or a mix of conflicting emotions. Their moods may fluctuate drastically, leading to outbursts of tears, frustration, or numbness.

Withdrawal and Isolation: Some characters might withdraw from social interactions, seeking solitude to process their grief. They may isolate themselves from others, finding solace in their own thoughts and memories.

- Physical Symptoms: Grief can manifest in physical symptoms such as loss of appetite, insomnia, fatigue, headaches, or other psychosomatic manifestations. These physical reactions can reflect the toll that grief takes on the character's overall well-being.

Immersion in Memories: Characters may immerse themselves in memories of the person they've lost. They might seek comfort in looking at old photographs, listening to recordings, or visiting significant places that remind them of their loved one.

Guilt and Regret: Characters may grapple with guilt and regret over things left unsaid or unresolved issues with the deceased. They may blame themselves for not being able to prevent the loss or feel remorse for any negative actions or words in the past.

Seeking Closure: Characters might actively seek closure by investigating the circumstances surrounding the loss or searching for answers. This could involve conducting their own inquiries, talking to people connected to the situation, or even pursuing spiritual or metaphysical avenues.

Attempting to Fill the Void: Some characters may try to fill the void left by their loss by immersing themselves in work, hobbies, or other distractions. This can be a way to cope with the pain or to create a sense of purpose in the absence of their loved one.

Rediscovering Meaning: Over time, characters may go through a process of reevaluating their own life's purpose and finding new meaning or direction. This can involve pursuing new interests, engaging in charitable acts, or dedicating themselves to causes that honor the memory of the person they've lost.

Healing and Acceptance: Eventually, characters may find a sense of healing and acceptance. While the pain of the loss never fully disappears, they learn to live with their grief and carry the memory of their loved one with them. This can lead to a renewed sense of purpose or a deepened appreciation for life.

Follow me on my IG for more Content. https://instagram.com/saraswritingtipps?igshid=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

[inkspiredwriting]

Misunderstandings and Misgivings

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The mansion was buzzing with the usual chaos, but today’s commotion centered around the upstairs bathroom. Muffled sounds of a scuffle echoed through the halls, drawing the attention of Diego and Y/N. The two of them exchanged confused and concerned glances as they stood outside the door.

“What the hell is going on in there?” Diego muttered, his fists clenching instinctively.

Y/N, Five’s girlfriend, paced nervously. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a fight.”

Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, and Five stumbled out, followed closely by Lila. Both were disheveled, hair askew, and clearly out of breath. They stopped short, surprised to see Diego and Y/N waiting for them.

Diego’s eyes narrowed. “What were you two doing in there?”

Lila smirked, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip. “Just a little friendly sparring match. Nothing to get your panties in a twist over.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of hurt and anger flashing across her face. “Five, what’s going on? Why were you in there with her?”

Five looked from Y/N to Diego, frustration boiling just below the surface. “It’s not what it looks like. We were just fighting. You know, training?”

“Training?” Diego echoed skeptically, crossing his arms. “In the bathroom?”

“Yes, Diego, in the bathroom. It was a spontaneous decision.” Five snapped, exasperated.

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, but doubt still lingered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Five sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, do you really think I’d do something like that? With Lila of all people? She’s with Diego, for God’s sake. And besides…” He stepped closer, his voice gentler now. “You’re the only one I’d ever want to be with.”

Y/N’s anger melted away as she searched his eyes. “I know, but… I just got scared.”

Five took her hands in his, his expression earnest. “You have nothing to be scared of. I love you, Y/N. Only you.”

Diego, still wary but slightly mollified, turned to Lila. “And you? What were you thinking?”

Lila shrugged nonchalantly. “Just blowing off some steam. Didn’t mean to cause a scene.” She winked at Diego. “Jealous, are we?”

Diego huffed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe a little.”

Five and Y/N shared a small, relieved laugh. Five wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I promise, next time I’ll let you know before I get into any impromptu fights.”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the tension finally ebb away. “Please do. I don’t need any more surprises like this.”

As the group dispersed, heading back downstairs to the relative calm of the living room, Five glanced back at Y/N, a smile playing on his lips. “You know, I’m kind of flattered that you got jealous.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile back. “Don’t push your luck, Hargreeves.”

Five chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And as they rejoined the rest of the family, the misunderstanding behind them, Five couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of gratitude for the love and trust he shared with Y/N.

[dee-writes-smut]

ROSES (Chapter Nine)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Eris is settling into both life as a High Lord and a new parent while also juggling the repairs needed for your relationship. Good thing he's tenacious.

CONTENT WARNINGS tooth-rotting fluff, that's all I have to say.

AUTHORS NOTE It breaks my heart to say this, but this is the last chapter in the official Flowers series. Don't fret; there will probably be spin off chapters and headcannons, but this is it as far as the main story goes. I can't simply find the words to express how grateful I am for all of you who followed me through this journey. Thank you to each and every one of you, new and old, for your support and love. I hope to see all of you in my future endeavors.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Three months had passed since the harrowing night of Eilidh’s birth, a night that had forged an unbreakable bond between you, Eris, and your daughter. The autumn leaves had begun to fall, painting the forest with vibrant hues of red and gold. The palace had a renewed energy, one that came from Eris assuming the mantle of High Lord of the Autumn Court. It was a role he embraced with a sense of duty and responsibility, balancing it with the demands of fatherhood.

Eilidh, now three months old, was a bundle of joy and curiosity. Her bright eyes, the color of rich amber, were always exploring, taking in the world around her. Her soft coos and infectious giggles filled the air, bringing warmth and light to every corner of the palace. Her presence had a calming effect on everyone, even during the most turbulent times.

Eris had become a devoted father, his transformation evident to all who knew him. He juggled his new responsibilities as High Lord with the demands of caring for Eilidh, often seen carrying her in his arms during council meetings or while handling court affairs. His love for her was palpable, his every action reflecting a deep commitment to his family.

But the road to this point had not been easy. After the night he had left you, the guilt and regret had weighed heavily on him. He had groveled, begged for your forgiveness, and worked tirelessly to prove his devotion. Every action, every word, had been an effort to make amends for the hurt he had caused.

Eris's groveling had begun the moment he had returned to your side. As soon as he saw you again, his eyes filled with tears of remorse and self-reproach. He had knelt before you, his voice trembling as he apologized, his words spilling out in a rush of desperation.

"I’m so sorry," he had whispered, his eyes pleading for your forgiveness. "I was a fool. I let my anger and jealousy cloud my judgment. I should have trusted you, should have listened. Please, forgive me."

You had looked down at him, your heart torn between the pain he had caused and the love you still felt for him. It had taken time, but you had seen the sincerity in his eyes, felt the depth of his regret.

In the days that followed, Eris had gone to great lengths to make amends. He had taken on the majority of the nighttime feedings and diaper changes, insisting that you get the rest you needed. He had brought you breakfast in bed every morning, each meal accompanied by a heartfelt note expressing his love and gratitude.

He had arranged for the palace gardens to be filled with your favorite flowers, their blooms a constant reminder of his devotion. He had planned quiet, intimate dinners, where the two of you could reconnect and share your thoughts and feelings. He had even sought counsel from the palace healers and wise elders, determined to be the best partner and father he could be.

One evening, as you rocked Eilidh to sleep, Eris had approached you, his eyes filled with determination. "I know I can't erase the past," he had said softly, "but I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You and Eilidh are my everything. I will never take you for granted again."

You had seen the truth in his words, felt the sincerity in his actions. Slowly, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by a renewed sense of trust and love.

Now, three months later, Eris stood by your side as you gazed down at Eilidh, who was nestled in her crib, her tiny hand clutching one of Eris's fingers. The palace had become a haven of love and laughter, a stark contrast to the tumultuous times you had endured.

"Eilidh’s growing so fast," you murmured, your voice filled with wonder.

Eris smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at his daughter. "She is," he agreed. "And she’s more beautiful every day, just like her mother."

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?" you said softly.

"We have," Eris replied, his voice filled with pride and love. "And we’ll continue to move forward, together. As a family."

Eris's coronation ball had finally arrived, an event that had been the talk of Prythian for weeks. The Autumn Court’s palace was aglow with lanterns and magic, casting a warm, golden light that reflected off the autumn leaves that carpeted the ground. The ballroom itself was a masterpiece of design and enchantment.

The grand hall was adorned with rich tapestries depicting the history of the Autumn Court, their vibrant hues illuminated by the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from the high, arched ceiling. The floor was a polished marble, intricately patterned to resemble the fallen leaves of the season. Tables were set with fine china and crystal, each centerpiece a bouquet of autumnal flowers that filled the air with a delicate fragrance.

The atmosphere was one of celebration and anticipation. Musicians played a lively tune in one corner of the room, their music mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and laughter. Nobles and dignitaries from all courts mingled, their elegant attire a dazzling array of colors and styles.

You stood near the entrance, holding Eilidh in your arms, her tiny hand clutching a strand of your hair. Her wide eyes took in the splendor of the room, the lights reflecting in her amber irises. You wore a dress of deep crimson, its fabric flowing around you like a cascade of autumn leaves, perfectly complementing Eris's formal attire of dark, intricately embroidered robes that signified his new status as High Lord.

The Inner Circle of the Night Court arrived in a flurry of elegance and power. Rhysand, with Feyre by his side, led the group, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Cassian and Azriel flanked them, their imposing figures exuding strength and confidence. Mor and Amren brought up the rear, their grace and poise adding to the group's undeniable allure.

“Congratulations,” Feyre said warmly as she approached, her eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. “Eilidh is beautiful.”

You smiled, the pride in your heart evident on your face. “Thank you, Feyre. She’s our little miracle.”

Rhysand stepped forward, his gaze softening as he looked at Eilidh. “May I?” he asked, extending his arms.

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing your daughter to him.

Rhysand cradled Eilidh with a surprising tenderness, his expression one of awe and reverence. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “You must be very proud.”

“We are,” you said, glancing over at Eris, who was deep in conversation with several High Lords. “She’s brought so much joy into our lives.”

Cassian and Azriel were next, each taking a turn to hold Eilidh and marvel at her tiny features. Mor cooed at her, making silly faces that had Eilidh giggling with delight. Amren, ever the enigma, simply nodded in approval, her sharp eyes betraying a rare softness.

As you watched the Inner Circle doting on your daughter, a sense of peace settled over you. These were your friends, your family, and they were here to celebrate this new chapter in your life.

“Here,” you said, gently taking Eilidh back from Amren and turning to Lucien, who had been standing quietly by your side. “Why don’t you spend some time with your niece?”

Lucien's eyes lit up as he took Eilidh in his arms. “Hey there, little one,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection. “Uncle Lucien’s got you.”

You watched as Lucien walked off with Eilidh, their heads close together as he spoke to her in hushed tones. The bond between them was growing stronger each day, and it filled your heart with joy to see Lucien so involved in her life.

Turning back to the ballroom, you took a moment to appreciate the grandeur of the occasion. The walls were lined with flickering candles, their flames casting a warm, inviting glow. The ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky, a tapestry of stars twinkling above. The music had shifted to a more formal tune, signaling the beginning of the night's official proceedings.

Eris stood at the head of the room, his presence commanding and regal. He caught your eye and smiled, a look of love and gratitude passing between you. Tonight was a night of celebration, but it was also a night of reaffirmation – of the love and commitment you shared, and of the bright future that lay ahead for you, Eris, and Eilidh.

The High Lords and their entourages took their places, the atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming one of anticipation and reverence. This was a momentous occasion, the dawn of a new era for the Autumn Court under Eris’s leadership.

As the evening wore on, the grand ballroom of the Autumn Court was filled with an air of contentment and celebration. The official proceedings had concluded, and the mood had shifted to one of relaxed enjoyment. Guests mingled, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of the orchestra that now played a gentle waltz.

Eris, who had been engaged in conversations with various dignitaries, finally found a moment to break away. His eyes scanned the room, searching for you amidst the sea of elegantly dressed guests. When he found you, standing near the edge of the dance floor and watching Lucien proudly show Eilidh to Elain, a tender smile spread across his face.

He crossed the room with purpose, his movements graceful and assured. As he reached you, he extended his hand, a silent invitation that spoke volumes. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

You took his hand, your heart fluttering at the touch. "I would love to," you replied softly.

Eris led you onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way for the two of you. The orchestra began to play a new melody, one that seemed to capture the essence of the moment – a blend of joy, love, and a touch of nostalgia.

As you stepped into Eris's embrace, the world around you seemed to fade away. His hand rested lightly on your waist, guiding you effortlessly through the steps of the dance. Your free hand found its place on his shoulder, and you moved together as if you were two halves of a whole, perfectly in sync.

The dance floor felt like a canvas, and you and Eris were the artists, painting a picture of grace and elegance with each step. The marble beneath your feet seemed to shimmer with every movement, reflecting the golden glow of the chandeliers above. The flickering candlelight cast a warm, inviting glow on your faces, highlighting the emotions that played across your features.

Eris's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. There was love there, yes, but also admiration, gratitude, and a sense of profound connection. It was as if the entire journey you had shared – the hardships, the joys, the moments of doubt and the moments of certainty – were encapsulated in this one, perfect dance.

The music swelled, and Eris spun you gently, your dress flaring out like a burst of autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze. As you came back to him, he pulled you closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly as if to reassure himself that you were truly there with him.

"I never imagined this," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music. "That we would be here, together, like this."

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion. "Neither did I," you replied. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

As the dance continued, you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment, in the feel of Eris's strong arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours, the way he moved with a confidence and grace that was uniquely his. The world outside the dance floor ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, and the beautiful, intricate dance you shared.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the ballroom, Lucien stood with Elain, who was holding Eilidh. He watched you and Eris with a fond smile, feeling a sense of peace and contentment as he saw how happy you were. Elain cooed at Eilidh, who giggled in response, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp at the sparkling lights.

"She looks so much like you," Elain said softly, her eyes warm as she looked at Lucien.

Lucien chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at his daughter. "She has her mother's spirit," he replied. "And a bit of her uncle's mischief, I think."

Elain laughed, a musical sound that blended perfectly with the joyous atmosphere of the evening. "She's lucky to have so many people who love her."

Lucien nodded, his heart full. "Yes, she is."

As the dance drew to a close, Eris pulled you even closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I love you," he whispered, the words a promise and a vow.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions.

The music faded, and the room erupted in applause, the guests acknowledging the beauty of the moment you and Eris had shared. But for you, the applause was just background noise. What mattered was the man in front of you, the love you saw in his eyes, and the future you knew you would face together, hand in hand.

Just as another song began, Lucien appeared at your side with your daughter in his arms. “She’s been quite the hit tonight,” Lucien said with a grin, carefully handing your daughter to Eris.

Eris took Eilidh with a tenderness that melted your heart, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of the two of them together. “Thank you, Lucien,” Eris said sincerely, his eyes meeting his brother’s with a newfound understanding.

Lucien nodded, stepping back to give you both space. Eris cradled Eilidh between you, her tiny form a perfect blend of the two of you. As you continued to dance, your daughter nestled close, the moment felt like a dream.

The music slowed, and you felt the world shift around you, as if everything had aligned in that single, perfect moment. The love you felt for Eris and Eilidh was overwhelming, a powerful force that filled your heart to bursting.

And then, it happened. A sudden, undeniable snap that resonated deep within your soul. The mating bond. It surged between you and Eris, a connection that was as ancient as it was unbreakable. You gasped, feeling the intensity of it wash over you, binding you to him in a way that was profound and eternal.

Eris’s eyes widened, and he pulled you closer, his grip tightening around you and Eilidh. “Did you feel that?” he whispered, awe and wonder in his voice.

You nodded, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with emotion. “I felt it.”

The bond was a revelation, a confirmation of what you had always known in your heart. You were meant to be together, to share your lives and your love, to build a future that was as bright and beautiful as the stars above.

As the last notes of the music played, you and Eris stood together, your daughter cradled between you, the bond of love and family wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. It was a moment of pure magic, a testament to the journey you had taken and the love that had blossomed along the way.

And as you looked into Eris’s eyes, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by love, fate, and the unbreakable bond that had finally snapped into place.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesvanslutta @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006 @rosewood-cafe @saltedcoffeescotch @dumblani @paleidiot @rcarbo1 @yourmomsushi

[hoe4sports]

“All this time I’ve wasted”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: This is the third part of the series based off of Myles Smith’s song “Stargazing”. Triggers involves swearing and depressive thoughts. And some head smacking. P1 can be found here

«And with that, it sums up the terms and conditions of this contract. Any questions, concerns or requests?” That were the final words of Brann’s sports manager. You smiled politely as your manager was asking questions regarding loans, termination and renewal of contracts. It was tiring, the situation with Alexia made every cell in your body tense up. It filled your heart with rage and hatred. Yet, you couldn’t help but love her. After your argument, you hadn’t spoken to her again. Always finding another partner during practice, always sitting with someone else at lunch and pretending to fall asleep on flights and on buses. All to avoid your bestfriend, Alexia. You see, she meant the world to you and she had done that for over 20 years. Somehow the bricks of your house had gotten torn apart violently similar to how a tornado tears apart states. That was why you had talked to your manager about being interested in a transfer, and on the world of football; money talks. A transfer meant more money for him. The process of discussing the contract was excruciating. It made your feel at conflict, like you had a big gaping hole in your heart that you couldn’t close up even though your blood was pouring out on the floor. The team didn’t know that the contract was in discussion, they didn’t know how you had practically begged the Barcelona sports manager to terminate your contract or to sell you. The feeling of betrayal was eating you alive, and it was about to get a whole lot worse.

The following Monday, you woke up to a million notifications on your phone. It felt like it was about to blow up next to your bed causing you to violently be ripped out of the comfort of your dreams. The contract discussed had leaked. You threw yourself backwards and covered your face with a pillow. This was not how you wanted things to play out. Your first feeling was anger, followed by anxiety and then relief. Anger because someone had leaked your secrets. Anxiety because the team were going to be furious with you. And relieved because you didn’t have to tell the team yourself, you didn’t even have to bring up the subject because if you really knew your team, you knew that someone would take it upon themselves to bring it up.

You sat outside the grand arena debating whether to walk in or not. Barcelona was your legacy and it wrecked every part of you to leave it all behind. It wasn’t like you were going on a loan or to a club in Spain; you were going to Norway. More specifically, to Brann. The club that you played a few months prior in championship league. You had originally had offers from Germany, but Germany felt overwhelming. That’s why when your manager told you about a possible deal with Brann, you wanted to feel ecstatic. It would be close to multiple of your friends; Aurora Mikalsen whom you knew from before, Frido that grew up in Sweden, Ingrid and Caro that grew up in Norway. You didn’t really have anything against Norway, and perhaps Norway was what you needed. However, the feeling of ecstasy never came around, and it made you feel like you were walking around in an empty shell. The shell of what once were your passionate, joyful, sunshine self had now been replaced with guilt, sadness and despair.

08:45, 15 minutes was all you had to mentally pull yourself together enough to not fall apart inside practice. You traced the roughness of the leather on your steering wheel with your fingertips. Another thing that needed to be added onto your to do list before a potential move to Norway. The heart in your chest felt like it was about to burst out of you. It still felt like your heart was about to drown, like it needed cpr for you to make it through the day. It felt like Alexia had lured you into a dark alley and pushed you into a deep hole in the concrete making you fall into the never ending darkness.

08:48.Your brain was so caught up within its own whirlwind of chaotic thoughts that you didn’t notice Ingrid standing outside of your car, patiently waiting for you in the pouring rain. Ingrid tapped the window and you opened the door. “Hey, are you coming in?” the Norwegian said with her usual cheery voice and her perfect smile. Her smile was so perfect it hurt, she was so perfect. God, if you were like Ingrid then maybe Alexia would like you. Ingrid was so kind, so bright and so compassionate. She was one of your closest friends, yet you couldn’t bare to load all your heavy rocks into her backpack. “Just go ahead, I’m coming soon” you mumbled hoping to get Ingrid to move along with any fuss. Ingrid took notice of your frown and raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” Your tears immediately came pressing into the premises of your eyes making your eyes burn as if they had been infested with chili. The pressing caused you to rub your eyes intensely, not noticing that Ingrid had walked around and hopped into the passenger seat of your car until her hand touched your thigh. You looked at her while tears were streaming down your face. “Are you really leaving?” You nodded. “Brann». Ingrid’s eyes widened. “Norway? But, why Norway?” She asked with furrowed brows. Norway wasn’t really a country where female football was at its most popular. You didn’t really know why, it was the only team that had decided to take the offer for you. None of the bigger leagues had teams that wanted you. Perhaps that was all you were. Unwanted. Your mother had disowned you after your father had passed away in a horrible accident as she took to the bottle to avoid her emotions. Alexia and her family had been your family. That was also about to be ripped away from you. You had no siblings, your parents didn’t have siblings and all your grandparents had passed. You felt like you were all alone in this big world where you had no purpose but to chase after a ball. Your eyes met Ingrid’s blue eyes. Her eyes were so intense, so bright. She was skilful, a natural, a force of nature. But you were just there. Always on the bench until some new exciting player came along and then you’d be benched from the bench for months on end. Never making any rosters. Never given the chance. Never noticed. The chain of thoughts were broken by Ingrid leaning forward to shake you gently. “Yes, Norway. I guess I’ve always wanted to see the mountains.” That was a lie. “Norway is so pretty, and I would love to learn another language.” Another like. “I really think this could be a good opportunity for me”. Third and last lie.

08.50: Ingrid reluctantly seemed to accept the lies as she nodded and summed up something about meeting you inside afterwards. You had just given her a hum in respons concealing your spinning thoughts. Your thoughts were spinning in a way that they hadn’t before and the voice in your head wouldn’t shut up. It felt like the world was wrapping you in a weighted blanket only to try to strangle you. It felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Like someone had put your car into a never ending rollercoaster. A tiny drop of sweat onto the tip of your nose snapped you out of it. You rubbed your eyes hard. Just hard enough to have fuzzy vision and to see starts. You wiped your hands onto your shorts. The teardrops on the windows were rolling down and the thunder was not many seconds behind. The atmosphere was dark as the clouds covered the usually blue sky. The weather felt like a metaphor for your fucked up emotions. The things you would do to

08:58. Two minutes was all that was left before practice. Before another day of facing the love of your life that didn’t feel the same towards you. The love of your life huh. Football or the woman you now could stare into the eyes of without feeling the crumbs of what once was the silver lining of your soul? You closed your eyes for the last time as you took yet a deep breath in desperation of its effect. Your hand grabbed the hinge of the door and you hopped out as you slowly walked towards the arena and your warderobe.

09.03: You ran out to the field with the fabric of your cleats clinging to your grilling socks. The other girls stood outside listening to the coach all dressed in their raincoats. You didn’t bother with the jacket, and ran out in just shorts and your half zip sweater instantly feeling the familiarity of coldness as the rain poured down around you. The other girls stared at you as you slumped next to the group, and at the corner of your eye; if you just looked far enough, there was Alexia. Focused as always, always sharp, always prepared, always perfect.

14.47: The day had just ended, and you had spent hours in overdrive trying to keep Alexia at distance while still pretending to be nice. It was all becoming too much. The gush of the reality showered over you like a semi truck while you plopped down on the bench after the other girls had finished showering and left for the day. You were shivering from the rain and the cold. It was the kind of cold that you felt deep inside your bones. The kind of cold that leaves you shaking uncontrollably for hours upon hours on end. The back of your head was leaning on the locker as you shut your eyes. The thoughts were so loud. They were occupying every inch of your brain. The infectious sadness and conflict rained upon you like there was no tomorrow. God, you hated this. The position you had gotten yourself in. The position that you had forced yourself in based off of an imaginary thought that you could have what you had wanted all your life. What had always been within reach, but yet so far away that you were longing for it. You smacked the back of your head in your locker as your phone started buzzing. Upon closer inspection, it was your agent. He expected a decision from you. A all clear. A positive feedback. It was exhausting trying to make a decision. Your phone felt like it weighed 3000 pounds. Your hand grabbed your phone as your agent’s name lit up your screen. You took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello”

“Hello Miss Y/L/N. How are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?”

“I’m well! Now, I would’ve been even better if I heard your decision. Have you made up your mind?”

“…”

“Y/N?”

“Oh, yea yea. Bad service. I.. I uhh..”

“Well?”

Your heart rate skyrocketed. You could heart your heartbeats in your ears. Like all the blood was rushing straight through your ear canals. You swallowed nervously. This could change everything. It could give you a new start. A new shot a professional life. But it could ruin everything you ever had. Or didn’t have.

“..Yes. I’ll sign”

“That’s amazing! I’ll let Brann know. Expect a call from me later so we can talk arrangements. Congratulations Y/N, take care!”

*Call ended*

You looked down at your phone. Your head was spinning. You felt dizzy.

“So, it’s true Y/N/N, you are really leaving?”

You looked up with glossy eyes. It was Alexia. Alexia with a sad grin. Tired eyes. Eyes with tears in them. God, you thought to yourself. What have you done.

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Object of Desire.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

______________________________________

A/N: I really couldn't stop thinking about this scenario, and I had to write it down.

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, dirty talk, swearing, angst, angry!Jake.

Summary: Jake is having a hard time making certain things work.

________________________________

A crash followed by a loud curse echoed from the inside of the studio.

It was very late and the few people still lingering around took that as a sign that it was way better to leave before hell broke loose.

The door of the first recording room opened and Daniel was the first one to exit, swiftly followed by Sam. The two of them basically ran out of the door looking worried and exhausted while more shouting came from the inside. Two voices were overlapping and growing in volume every second more.

The door was almost closing when it bursted open violently, hitting the wall like someone had kicked it hard.

“Well, I might be an obnoxious diva but you really need to learn how to play that fucking guitar again Jakey, you are slowing us down. So you better pull it together and control it because you are sounding like shit.” Josh came out of the room with his hands flailing, still facing inside and shouting to his brother on top of his lungs.

Then he grasped the door and slammed it shut before the half empty bottle of wine that Jake threw towards him could hit him straight in the face.

A loud “fuck off” echoed from the room at the same time that the bottle shattered with a booming crash against the wood of the door, sending shards and drops of wine everywhere.

Then, after that, the building fell completely silent.

Inside the recording room Jake was fuming with anger.

His ears were ringing and his chest was heaving. He was very hot and his already unbuttoned shirt was sticking to his skin uncomfortably, making him feel trapped and intensifying his anger.

He immediately took it off and threw it across the floor, exhausted.

It landed in a corner right next to the guitar, his beloved, that he had thrown to the floor a few minutes before everyone ran away and Josh accused him of not knowing how to play it anymore.

A renewed fit of anger filled his heart and he quickly crossed the room.

He harshly grabbed his beloved guitar from the floor and slammed it down on the table with so much force that the sound it made had a shiver run down his spine.

That bitch had been giving him troubles all day. It just wouldn't let him play it properly and he didn't know what the hell was wrong with it. The only thing he knew was that he needed to find that out as soon as possible.

He grabbed it by the fretboard and slung the strap over his shoulder. Then he plugged it into his amp and started playing a song he had played an indecent amount of times and that he knew like the back of his hands.

A few seconds later he was huffing out a curse under his breath. Something was wrong.

The notes sounded weird, in an almost sinister way and he didnt know why.

Frustration was slowly getting the better of him, so he sat down on the sofa with the guitar still on his lap and opened the bottle of Pinot Grigio that someone had placed right next to the sofa at the beginning of their useless recording session.

He uncorked the bottle and took a few long gulps right from it, without even bothering to go grab a glass.

Then he closed his eyes and rested his pounding head against the back of the couch for a few minutes, hoping that the wine would clear his mind and ease his nerves a bit.

With a renewed glimmer of hope, he tuned the instrument again, even though he knew that that wasn't the problem and this time he tried to improvise something.

An hour later, the bottle of wine was empty but Jake was still drowning in despair and anger. He kept trying to come up with a decent new riff but he produced nothing that sounded even remotedly like it used to when his fingers stroked the frets of his beloved.

It had been love at first sight between that little horned cherry-red devil and his twelve-year-old self. Inside that shop so many years ago with the first note he played he knew that she was the one.

But right now he was not so sure anymore.

The umpteenth wrong note echoed into the room, despite the guitar was perfectly tuned and that sent Jake spiraling.

A violent fit of anger coursed through his body.

He stood, ripped the guitar from his sweaty body and slammed it on the same table as before. Another hideous sound left the instrument from the violent impact and Jake lost it completely.

With a scream, he ripped all the strings from the guitar so hard that he even sliced his middle finger open with one of them.

Blood slowly started to drip out of the cut and onto the wood, creating a grim contrast with the red of the instrument but Jake didn't even notice at first. He was blinded by anger in a way that he didn't remember to have ever experienced before.

Without thinking he grabbed the neck of his guitar, bent over it and started whispering.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, hm? Why are you being such a bitch tonight? Are you fucking jealous because I played other guitars all day long?” He hissed like he was referring to an actual person, his lips grazing the wood and metal of the fretboard in a snare.

He knew he sounded completely out of his mind and that the entire scene might have granted him a one way ticket to a psychiatric ward but he had reached the point of no return.

At that moment a single crackle sound came from his amp and Jake froze in place.

A strange feeling crept up his spine making him shiver.

And then the thought that invaded his brain made him feel utterly helpless and crazy.

‘That sounded like an answer’ he thought but then shook his head because he refused to believe that.

It was true. That morning one of his closest friends brought to the studio many guitars, one more rare and prestigious than the other and he had a lot of fun playing a lot of them for a few takes. He did that because he wanted to spice things up a little bit and render his playing a bit more dynamic with the new album.

That evening however, since he was tired from playing that many different guitars, he needed to fall back on the one which he knew even better than his very soul.

But somehow he couldn't make it work this time.

He felt so stupid for even thinking that his beloved guitar, an inanimate object, could be sentient and could give him a hard time because of that.

He straightened his back and mustered up the courage to ask the same question again, but this time nothing happened. His voice just echoed into the empty room in a peculiar way.

“I’m wasted” he scoffed at himself and laughed out loud. He started pitying himself, and moved away from the table to go get some fresh air outside, hoping that it could help him clear his mind.

He reached for the door but, as soon as he placed his sweaty hot hand against the cool metal of the knob, another noise echoed from the single cabinet on the other side of the room.

At first he thought it was the usual creaking of old wooden furniture but then he heard it again and this time it sounded more like something metallic hitting wood.

He slowly turned around but everything was in perfect order.

He was just thinking about the fact that the wine had fucked him up pretty good when he heard it again, louder this time.

It was coming from the bottom drawer of the cabinet where he usually kept his new guitar strings just in case one broke during the recording.

His heart was hammering in his chest and his head was spinning a little, but he decided to investigate further anyway.

He slowly approached the cabinet and crouched down. He reached for the knob and mentally counted to three before firmly yanking the drawer open.

Immediately he jumped away scared by what he saw, falling on his ass on the floor and then he burst out laughing like a maniac.

Inside, the guitar strings that he had placed there that morning wrapped in a neat circle had unrolled and, as soon as he opened the drawer, they had burst out, scaring him to death.

He laughed again, shaking his head and watching how they bobbed everywhere.

Then he decided that that was a sign. The sign he should restring his guitar and play whatever it came to his mind.

He stood, grabbed the strings and the tools he needed and moved back to the table.

He also noticed the blood on his hand and grabbed a paper towel to clean himself and stop the blood from flowing further.

Before getting to work he even grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and chugged half of it. The coolness of the liquid helped him clear his mind a bit. At least his head wasn't spinning anymore.

He carefully started placing the new strings where they belonged with one hand while keeping the body of the guitar still with the other.

He tightened the first one and was about to place another when the hand that was holding the guitar still slipped slightly, making the lower part of the instrument bump against his crotch.

He tried again and again his hand slipped, making the guitar press against his hips like it happened seconds before.

He was slowly getting fed up by everything again.

He let go of the guitar, wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans and began again.

This time he held the guitar a bit more harshly, making his knuckles turn white.

He correctly placed another four strings and he was about to reach for the last one when his hold slipped and the instrument ended up pressing against his crotch again.

He groaned and involuntarily pressed his hips back against it, feeling himself twitch in his boxers.

Then, as if recovering from a momentaneous blackout, he shook his head, reprimanded himself and tried again to place the final string.

An imperceptible blush covered his cheeks, and he told himself it was because of the anger but in reality he was starting to feel aroused, something that happened to him often when he irresponsibly paired wine with anger.

He successfully placed the last string and a sigh of relief left his lips. Then he started turning the tuning peg to tighten it but the guitar slipped from his grasp again, this time pressing into his tense balls and causing a little twinge of pain.

But instead of recoiling from it, he felt his hips move forward almost without his control. He pressed his now growing erection against the wood and he had to bite his lips to stiffen a groan of pleasure.

He stopped himself hastily and bent over his guitar, pressing his sweaty forehead against the cool surface of the table and questioning what the hell he was doing.

After a few seconds he straightened his back, exhaling a curse through gritted teeth and tightened his hands against the body of his guitar.

“Fuck it” he said and started pressing his hips against the lower curve of the instrument.

Instantly, pleasure started coursing through his body and the rhythm of his hips intensified to chase his release.

During every push of his hips Jake felt like his guitar was slowly countering his thrusts fucking itself against him. He tried to change his rhythm and the instrument matched it effortlessly and impeccably.

He stopped overthinking what he was doing and quickly fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans letting go of the guitar.

When finally he managed to pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles, setting himself free and placed his trembling hands back against the body of the guitar, it almost felt like it was vibrating imperceptibly as if in anticipation of his next movements.

When the delicate flushed skin of his engorged cock made contact with the smooth cool wood of the guitar a whimpery moan left his spit-slicked lips and he had to bite them to stop himself from screaming.

He moved his hands to grip the wood better and, as his fingers involuntarily grazed the strings, a low note echoed into the room, vibrating through his body and making him shiver.

“Please, do it again” he heard his own voice beg but didn't notice his lips moving with the words.

He grazed his fingers gently against the strings one more time while thrusting his hips and he almost doubled over in pleasure as the guitar slipped again from his grasps and pressed against his balls.

Jake knew he was slowly losing his mind but the fact that it really looked and felt like his guitar was making him fuck her was terrorising and arousing him at the same time.

He quickened his rhythm, fingering the strings unashamedly now as if his guitar was a flesh-and-blood woman under his grasp begging him for more and more.

The vibrations of the music were bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

After a few seconds he noticed that his hands were replicating the same pattern without knowing and his heart skipped a beat.

That was it.

The new riff he was looking for.

Right there.

Where it had always been.

He just needed a little bit of help to bring that sound out of his jumbled mind.

The vibrations coming from the guitar had his back arching with a loud unbridled moan as his nails dug into the wood of the instrument.

He knew he was getting closer and closer.

Embracing his moment of insanity he bent again over his guitar while thrusting his flushed cock rapidly against the wood that was already sleek with sweat and precome.

“Am I fucking you good, baby? Is this what you wanted all along, hm? You wanted me to treat you like my one and only bitch, didn't you? Now take it, slut.” He whispered dirtily towards his guitar as his thrusts quickened even more.

Another crackle sounded from the amp behind him and a note sounding like a moan resounded from the guitar, making him bare his teeth towards the instrument.

“C'mon Beloved, sing for me a little more. But make it dirty.” he addressed the guitar once again and, as if on command, the moment his fingers grazed the frets another riff sounded into the room making Jake’s toes curl.

“Fuck, yes, just like that” he heard himself moan, as his body twitched and spasmed against his guitar. His hair was damp with sweat by then, as was his entire body, and kept swaying back and forth in time with his lewd movements.

One last drawn out low note that was dripping sex and darkness echoed into the room and right through his body making him reach his high.

He watched mesmerized as his cock hardened even more and tensed, exposing his many veins and then, with a long prolonged moan, he admired as ropes of pearlescent come covered and ruined the polished wood of the instrument.

When finally he had regained a bit of his composure he straightened his back and huffed out a little breathy laugh.

Then he bent over his guitar one last time and licked it clean from his release almost hungrily.

With the pointed tip of his tongue he collected the last white drop from a string and the single note that reverberated into the room gave him yet another new idea.

Immediately he straightened his back, tied his hair in a low bun and pulled his boxers and pants back up.

Then he grabbed his beloved, slung the strap over his shoulder and went to press the recording button only to discover that it was already on.

And he really didn't remember turning it on.

___________________________

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagik @edgingthedarkness @gold-mines-melting

@mindastreamofcolours @blacksoul-27 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mapelsyrup07 @klarxtr @takenbythemadness @peaceloveunitygvf @lyndz2names @jazzyfigz @its-interesting-van-kleep @katuschka @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hollyco @i-love-gvf

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday Coda

Here is my 7x01 coda that I'm also counting for Fuck-It Friday! So thank you for the tags @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @jesuisici33 and @diazsdimples! Posted to ao3 here.

“How the talk with Chris go? He still seeing being a two timer?” Marisol asks with a sly smile.

Eddie blows out a harsh breath, “There wasn’t much of a talk on my end.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Oh? You just letting him work it on his own?”

He shakes his head, “Oh god no. That would have just made an even bigger mess.” Eddie has to look away from his girlfriend as he admits, “Actually I asked Buck to talk to him. He has some um... experience with the whole ‘player’ thing.”

Marisol’s wine glass smacks loudly on the coffee table in the silence that follows, and Eddie barely holds back a wince. Still, he doesn’t look at her. He never does when speaking about Buck.

“You had your newly single best male friend, with a history of getting around, talk to your son about not doing the exact same thing?” Marisol sound appalled and it has Eddie whipping around to see her actual reaction. His girlfriend looked upset and disgusted? What is that about?

“Um, yea. Buck has the insight into all of that and he’s reformed and all that.” Eddie tries defending.

She scoffs, “Reformed? Didn’t he just break up with his last girlfriend because he got bored.”

Well, that was a very poor recount of events that had already been poorly told by Buck and Eddie felt the low simmer of burgeoning anger, “Buck did not get bored. He was trying to live, move on from his death, and all that woman was doing, was being a constant reminder of it.”

The anger rises at Marisol rolling her eyes, “Like I said, bored. But that’s not really the point here.”

He grinds his back molars, “What is the point then, in your opinion?”

She narrows her eyes at his tone, “The point is Christopher isn’t going to learn to respect women, be a courteous young man by talking to a man whose disastrous dating history is printed in a best-selling book by someone from said history. He’s Christopher’s fun friend, the guy he goes to when he doesn’t want to get in trouble and you’re feeding into it.”

Eddie slams his beer to the coffee table, making Marisol’s almost empty wine glass wobble from the force, and rises his feet, “After me, Buck is one of the most important people in Christopher’s life. You have not a single understanding of what they are to each other, what they have been through. What Buck has personally been through. He is not some womanizing asshole corrupting my son. He is Christopher’s best friend; my best friend, and the person I know I can turn to when I need help with Christopher. With anything.”

Marisol rises to her feet, “And you’re allowing him to continue take up the space I am trying to get into. I thought we we’re getting somewhere when you invited me to chaperon Chris’s date with you, when you opened up about your worries about him. But instead of letting me try to help you ran to a person you can’t bring up without looking away.”

He immediately proves her point and puts his gaze on the fireplace mantle, eyes roaming over every photo. There several of just him and his son, pre-LA to just last year before Christopher’s school dance. There are pictures of their family back in Texas and the entirety of the 118. Then there are photos with Buck. Christopher and Buck at the zoo. The trio of them at the mall fountain. Eddie’s graduation. Christopher’s 10th birthday. And second to last, Eddie and Buck, arms around each other’s shoulders at Hen and Karen’s vow renewal. At the end of all those photos sits the last family picture of Eddie, Christopher, and Shannon took at the beach.

Eddie thinks back on the picture Christopher turned down on his desk and the letter he almost didn’t read. He thinks about how his first instinct was to turn to Buck and not the girlfriend who witnessed Christopher’s player antics, someone who could give insight on how those girls felt. And then he realizes, Christopher wouldn’t have opened up about his mother to anyone, but Buck.

That space Marisol is trying to fit herself into, is too large, too broad, and perfectly Buck shaped.  She would never fit.

With a sense of déjà vu, Eddie drops his gaze to floor and softly states, “I think you should go.”

💜🩷💜🩷

Wine glass rinsed out, beer bottle in the recycling, and a reusable tote bag just barely filled with Marisol’s few items left at his house sat near the door, Eddie relaxes back into his couch.

Marisol put up a lack-luster fight to leaving, but eventually she drowned the last of her wine and called an uber. “He’s not going stick around forever. He’s going to break both yours and Christopher’s hearts.” She warned, “And you’ll be just as alone as you were in the hardware store.”

Eddie held back a harsh retort and simply told her, “I haven’t been alone since I met him and I never will be if either one of us has a say about it.”

He opened the door, Marisol got into a little gray sedan, and she went back to the home Eddie helped destroy.

Picking up his phone from the coffee table, Eddie pulls up his contact favorites, smirking humorously at Marisol’s missing name, and presses the person at the very top. It rings twice, before, “Hey man, thought it was date night?”

“Asked her to go home.” Eddie replies.

Silence on the other end for a just a moment then, “Man, you really need to find a better way to break up with women.” Buck teases.

Eddie chuckles, “Well at least there was no mess to clean up this time.”

Buck hums in agreement before softly asking, “You doing okay?”

Not a single lie passed his lips when he answered, “More than. But you know what would help?”

“What?”

“Go-karts in the dessert.”

A laugh that makes Eddie feel warm all over, “It’s a date.”

Hope you all enjoyed! Tagging (no pressure): @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @perfectlysunny02 @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie

[diejager]

Hello, i was wondering if you could do the reader retaliating against Stepdad!konig and Dbf!horangi and going out to the bar by herself and she ends up meeting Ghost and Soap and hooks up with them on the down low?

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, drinking, alcohol, hooking up, tell me if I missed any.

You were frustrated, feelings boiling under your skin and threatening to explode if it peaked higher. You couldn’t take it anymore, how restrictive and controlling your stepdad and his friend was, going as far s to manhandling your body and tire you out with the ruthless thrusts of their girth and famished kisses from scarred and dried lips. So you did what you knew best, called your friends and sought out their help to relax and forget the week-long stress and anger. They were eager for it, happy even to have you back in their warm embrace after your stepdad kept you locked in on most nights, and they went big, boisterously gushing about the hot men and beautiful women they saw at this bar. 

Impulsively, you acted out by dressing more… freely, promiscuous with how much skin you were showing up in a black skirt that flowed elegantly around your upper thighs and a bottomed blouse with a notched collar that rode up your stomach whenever you stretched your arms. Your friends had encouraged you for acting out, dressed up so prettily that they swooned and enthusiastically pulling you towards their favourite corner of the bar. A little booth where they had eyes on everyone, ogling and smiling at people who stared back at them. 

You restrained yourself from downing drink after drink, sitting with your friend who was the designated driver of the group, unlike the others who drank freely, giggling and cheeks flushed pink from the rush of alcohol. You enjoyed your current cocktail, stirring the straw and wrapping your glossy lips around the tip, relishing the sweetness and the afterburnof vodka in it. 

“Hey,” Cassie nudged you, her shoulders touching yours as her eyes fleeted between you and somewhere farther up, “Someone- well, some people,” she shrugged, pointing at something with her chin, “Are staring at you.”

Your eyes followed her stare, moving over a crowd of filled tables and met pairs of dark and blue eyes at the counter of the bar, gazing at you with heavy eyes. You trailed down their bodies - side profile since they turned to hold contact with you - broad shoulders and well-sculpted arms and chest. One bigger than the other, but as tempting as the other, they worked off each other well, a giant and intimidating man and a smaller and more electrifying one. You shuddered, cheeks flushing red when you realised that they were handsome despite one having his face covered by some sort of mask with a skull print. 

“Them?”

“Yeah! They’ve been staring at you for a good while, ” Cassie chuckled, wrapping her arm around you, leaning forward to whisper encouragements and temptations, “Why don’t you go talk to ‘em? Might be worth shit, y’ know? You wouldn’t be stuck being lonely with me at least.”

You glanced back at her gleaming eyes, mischief swirling in her beautiful blue eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Go, I don’t mind. Someone’s gotta watch over these bitches!”

Standing from the table, you made your way towards them with renewed determination after your friends all cheered for you to “get those piece of meat”. And seeing your approach, the mohawked man slapped the masked one in the arm and nodded your way, fully turning their bodies to greet you, one with hooded eyes and another with a toothy smile, wild and thrilling. 

“Hi,” you smiled shyly, fingers curling behind your back in a nervous manner.

“Hello, Hen,” he had a Scottish - or so you thought - accent in his words, heavy and beautiful as it rolled off his tongue.

You told him your name with a flustered smile and he told you his with a peck on your hand, a downright sexy grin lifting the corners of his lips. His electric blue eyes and the small wrinkles around his eyes only made him look even more irresistible, it would probably fix your problems, finding someone sweet but feral to love and fuck you.

“Meet my friend, ” he gestured to the man who’d been staring at you so intensely, dark and dreamy with those pale lashes, “We call ‘im Ghost.”

You blinked, confused by the name until you realised it was probably an alias to keep his real name hidden, much like König did. Ghost was broader than him, but shorter than the 6’10 giant that lived in your house. 

“Simon for you, luv,” Ghost - Simon as he told you - graced you with his sinfully deep and raspy voice, finally turning his chest towards you and peering down at you like you were a prey that he’d devour in a bite, “Buy you another drink?”

You’ve never felt more sure about your decision when you nodded, clenching your thighs at Simon’s wandering hands and Johnny’s gentle grip on your back. 

[sturnlovaa]

°•. IMAGINE — Christopher Sturniolo betraying your trust in the worst possible way — part three !

cw.. unprotected p n v, cock warming, humiliation, love triangle (fuck triangle), jealousy + possessive issues, a fight, profanity, y/n.

read part one & part two before getting into this one !

based off this ask , final part !

revenge sex. often refers to sexual activity engaged in as an act of retaliation or vengeance, often following an argument, betrayal, or perceived wrong by a partner. it can involve using one's physical attractiveness as a weapon to manipulate, degrade or humiliate the other person.

your nails dug into the back of Matts’ neck as you grinded down on his rigid cock, your breathy moans filling the car. the revenge was sweet, and you savored every moment of it. not for Matt, really, but for what Chris had done to you.

his hands roamed your curves, his fingers tangling in your hair as you continued to ride him with wild abandon, your body a conduit for your fury. the anger and hurt you felt towards Chris was channeled into every thrust, every nip of your teeth against the skin of Matts’ neck.

his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of understanding and desire burning in their depths. he knew why you were doing this, why you needed this. and he was willing to be your outlet, your vengeance, and your satisfaction.

his hands grasped your hips, but only to guide you, to let you take what you needed. he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, "take it out on me, baby. make me pay for what he did," his words fueled your anger, your sadness, and your desire for revenge.

you increased your pace, your body slamming down onto his, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing through the car. his head tipped back, his eyes closed in rapture as he let out a low groan.

his fingers dug deeper into your hips, but not to control you, to urge you on, to let you know he was there for you, that he'd take it, that he'd absorb your pain and your fury.

just as the wave of pleasure was building within you, his phone started to ring, breaking the spell. Chris' name flashed across the screen, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. he cursed under his breath, “answer him,” he demanded.

his eyes snapped open, his gaze intense as he held your attention. "continue to fuck me and answer the phone," he growled, his voice laced with a mix of urgency and annoyance.

you paused, pulling back slightly, your voice tinged with frustration, "do i have to?"

his irritation boiled over as he abruptly thrust up into you, catching you off guard. before you could protest further, he snatched his phone from the center console and answered with a curt "yeah?" as he brought the device up to capture your face.

your hand shot out, knocking his phone from his grip as he got a few fleeting seconds of your face, twisted in pleasure. the phone clattered to the floor, but he didn't hesitate, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor as he continued to drive into you.

the sudden loss of the visual reminder of the betrayal seemed to amplify your emotions, and you found yourself clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pistoned into you. the car rocked with the force of his thrusts, the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing filling the air.

and then, faintly, you heard Chris' voice through the phone, "i'm on my fucking way," he growled, anger and possessiveness seeping into every word. there was a click, and the call ended.

the two of you exchanged a glance, but overall brushed off the encounter as if it were just a minor inconvenience. he leaned in to kiss you once more, his movements becoming frantic as he buried himself inside you again and again. the simple fact that his brother had his location, slipping his mind as he was too caught up.

it seemed as if the phone call had only fueled his desire, pushing him to new heights as your bodies moved together in sync, perfectly attuned to one another. the car continued to rock with each of his thrusts, a testament to the passion that consumed you both.

the tension in the car seemed to coil, winding higher and higher as his rhythm grew faster, driving into you like a man possessed. you felt your own release building, the pleasure nearly blinding as it threatened to consume you whole, never ending whimpers, moans, and groans escaping your lips.

suddenly, Matt's movements stuttered, and he slammed into you one final time, his body shuddering as he came — holding you in place, filling you with his warmth. to which you joined him, tightening around his length.

as the waves of pleasure began to recede, you slowly raised yourself up off his lap, preparing to disentangle from him. but he made no move to let you go, his hand suddenly gripping your hip with a firmness that bordered on possessive, "not yet," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with unspent desire.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next, but the look in his eyes left you in no doubt that he wanted you to stay.

you took a deep breath and then sank back down onto his lap, your body molding perfectly around him as you let out a shaky breath. his cock throbbed inside you, still hard and warm, and you involuntarily gripped around him at the sensation.

the feeling of you clenching around him elicited a low groan from him, and he tightened his grip on your hip. you didn't move – instead, you let yourself relax into him, the exhaustion of the moment finally catching up to you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

his arms encircled you, holding you close as he dropped kisses onto your temple and hair. his chest rose and fell beneath you in a steady rhythm, and the feel of him still hard inside you was soothing in its own way – a reminder of the passion that had just passed between you.

as you lay there in his embrace, your thoughts drifted to the differences between him and his brother. having slept with them both now, the similarities between them were striking, but also the differences had been just as apparent.

Chris' lovemaking had been more aggressive, more primal – a raw, animalistic need that left you breathless and shaken. Matt, on the other hand, had been slower, more deliberate in his pursuit of pleasure.

and even when Matt had gotten rough with you, it was only in an attempt to help you reach your own climax faster, not out of a desire to dominate. he seemed content to let you take control just as much as he did, willing to do whatever it took to make sure you were satisfied.

the sudden sound of a car screeching to a halt outside broke the spell, and you lifted your head from the boys shoulder to gaze out the window. the bright headlights illuminated the dark night, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene.

the rain-speckled windshield reflected the headlights' glare, casting a misty veil over the night. your heart skipped a beat as a figure emerged from the darkness, striding purposefully towards the car.

you didn't waste any time as you scrambled into the passenger seat, hastily pulling your clothes back on. he followed suit, quickly donning his own garments beside you. the engine purred softly as the figure finally reached the car, their face obscured by the darkness and rain.

the door swung open, and before either of you could react, the figure reached in and grasped Matts’ arm, pulling him out of the car. you watched in a mix of alarm and confusion as Matt stumbled out into the wet night, his clothes still disheveled from your interrupted tryst.

as the headlights illuminated Chris' face, his features twisted into a scowl. "what the hell do you think you’re doing, Matthew?" he growled, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something darker.

you quickly smoothed out your rumpled clothes, trying to look as composed as possible before stepping out into the rain-soaked night. the air was thick with tension as you approached the brothers, watching Chris' fingers dig into Matts’ arm as they exchanged heated words.

unable to bear the tension any longer, you finally stepped forward. "Chris," you called out firmly, trying to ease the situation. the rain formed little droplets in your hair as Chris slowly tore his gaze away from Matt, turning his stormy eyes in your direction.

as you met Chris' intense gaze, you didn't flinch or back down. instead, you held his gaze steadily, hoping to convey the sincerity of your words. "let it be,"

after a long, tense moment, Chris' expression suddenly shifted, and a smirk began to spread across his face. the anger in his eyes didn't dissipate, but it was now tempered by a hint of triumph. "i told you you'd regret it,"

Matts’ reaction was abrupt and violent. he yanked his arm out of Chris' grasp, his face twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. with a sharp shove, he pushed Chris back, causing him to stumble a step backward.

the tension snapped like a live wire, and before you could say anything more, the two brothers were in each other's faces, fists clenched and ready to strike. Chris lunged forward, but Matt was quicker, dodging aside and landing a solid punch to Chris' jaw with a sickening crunch.

Chris staggered back from the punch, his head snapping to the side, but he quickly regained his footing. with a vicious snarl, he launched himself at Matt, tackling him to the wet ground with a thud. the two men rolled and struggled, punches flying in a blur of motion as they exchanged blows.

standing in the middle of the deserted road, you screamed until your throat was raw, trying to make yourselves heard over the sounds of the frenzied fight. "stop it! both of you, stop it!" you begged, heart pounding with fear at the sight of their brutal battle.

amidst the chaos of the fight, Chris managed to pin Matt down, panting and glaring in his face. "you think you can just take her from me? dick her down better?" he snarled, each word punctuated by a hard breath.

"she's mine, Matt. mine. i don't share what's mine. uou know that," Chris continued, his eyes blazing with a possessive intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Matt struggled to break free, but Chris held him fast, his grip like a vice.

you gasped for breath, your heart racing as you desperately tried to keep your voice steady. "Chris, no!" you cried out, tears welling up in your eyes. "that's not true! i-i kissed Matt first! it was my fault, all of it," you pleaded, shaking your head, trying to make Chris see reason. "i initiated it and i'm not yours to own or possess. i'm a human being, not a thing to be fought over," you exclaimed, your words tumbling out in a frantic bid to stop the violence.

"fuck you, y/n!" Chris yelled, his words ringing out in the empty street. Matt had quickly taken advantage of the momentary loosening of his grip to push him off. "Matthew! you little shit!"

the sound of fists colliding echoed through the empty night as the two men stood face-to-face, each determined to come out on top. Matt threw a wild right hook, but Chris was ready for it, dodging the blow and countering with a swift jab to the stomach.

Matt doubled over, gasping for breath as his brothers jab had him seeing stars. he clutched at his stomach, the sudden impact leaving him momentarily dazed and off balance. "fuck..."

you stood off to the side, your hands clenched into fists as you watched the two men fight. the anger inside of you was reaching a boiling point, and before you knew it, you were shouting at them. "enough!" you screamed, your voice cutting through the chaos of the fight. "this is bullshit! i can't believe i ever thought either of you was worth my time!" you shook your head, feeling a rush of disgust and anger at the sight of the two of them brawling over you.

"i don't want to see either of you again!" you spat, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "i'm done with this petty crap. i deserve better than this, and I'm not going to stick around and be treated like some kind of prize to be won!"

you turned to leave, your strides quick and determined as you fought back the urge to cry. the last thing you heard was the sound of fists colliding once more, but you didn't care. in the end, no one was getting what they wanted.

©sturnlovaa

[alittlebitofsainz]

- why am I still writing pages? -

prompt: “but if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?”

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: you and your teammate are cursed by a case of right person, wrong time. but a crash makes you both reconsider everything.

warnings: implications of sex and mentions of a crash, but nothing explicit.

a/n: lyrics of course from track #16 death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

you knew it had been a bad idea.

right from the start, the voice in the back of your head was screaming at you not to do this. this was the only way it ever could’ve ended, and yet at the same time… you knew it would never end. not properly.

you could tell you and charles would get along from the moment you met; faces cracking into grins when you caught his eye across the debrief room, turning into whispers in ears about gossip from the rest of the grid, turning into subtle touches on the shoulder, on the knee, on the curve of your back as he passed by. you could feel yourself falling, even though you were trying so hard not to. and how could you not? he was charming, funny, handsome, and something about his unwavering determination, his dedication and commitment and loyalty to his team, to his dream, captured you in ways you never imagined anything could.

the first kiss was inevitable, a moment in his drivers room full of so much tension that you left to head to the first free practice session suspiciously breathless. the two of you danced around labelling whatever it was going on between you, until eventually there was no point pretending anymore; neither of you were interested in pursuing anybody else but each other.

but you were drivers. and drivers were competitive, and ambitious, and separating your off-track relationship from your on-track relationship…? let’s just say that difficult was an understatement.

“they told me what you said on the radio.”

charles had looked up, the irritation that had been on his face giving way to surprise as you appeared in the entrance of his drivers room. usually when you came to visit his drivers room the door was locked behind you, and when it reopened half an hour later you had to check the corridor to make sure no one saw you emerge with your hair a mess, cheeks flushed and your shirt still half unbuttoned. but this wasn’t one of those times. the tension in the air was not the welcome kind.

“what?” charles had the audacity to pretend to not to know what you were talking about.

“‘y/n’ is such a fucking idiot. what is she doing?’ don’t pretend you didn’t say it.” you replied. even having to repeat the words felt like a knife in your chest. you’d been fighting for a podium, and your defending had been a little… aggressive, more so than it probably should’ve been considering charles was your teammate. and your partner. charles sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry. you know what it’s like out there. we all say things in the moment that we don’t really mean.” he apologised gently, weary eyes searching yours for any sign you forgiveness. you hummed in response, the anger that had built in you as you’d marched down the corridor from the garage to his drivers room dissipating the longer you had to process it. charles held his arms out to you, and you let out a sigh as you knew that you would forgive him, crawling into his lap as he murmured apologies into your ear.

it hadn’t been that incident that had caused your relationship to break down. it had been an accumulation of all the times that followed, all the little comments and digs over the radio about each other when you were fighting on track. it was the way the media continually pitted you against each other, the two of you constantly leap-frogging each other in the drivers standings, rumours of renewing of contracts and in-team fighting that eventually became all consuming and impossible to ignore. when charles had looked at you with a face like thunder that masked the true pain he felt, telling you he didn’t think he could do this anymore, you couldn’t find any reason to argue. to fight what was happening. maybe this was just right person, wrong time, you’d agreed. maybe in another life.

it had hurt, but at least you’d remained friends, even if it was only due to the forced proximity that came from driving for the same team every weekend. and without the added pressure of a relationship, things between you and charles actually improved, after a while. first the smiles across the room came back. and then the two of you started gossiping again, giggling at secrets that only the two of you knew, footage of you, charles and pierre laughing together during the drivers parade appearing all over social media. and then the touches, the brushing of skin, the blush creeping up into your cheeks as his fingers caught on yours as you walked side by side through the paddock. the way his knee pressed against yours during a press conference when a question came up about your crash the weekend before, the one that had had charles racing to the medical centre as soon as the race was over, almost in tears just at the sight of you.

“I came as soon as I- merde, y/n, are you okay?”

charles’ voice was shaky, his heavy breathing revealing just how quickly he’d rushed over from the garage. the race wouldn’t be restarted for at least another half an hour, the barriers requiring extensive repair work after the damage you’d caused, giving charles just enough time to come and see you.

“I’m fine, charles.” you waved him off as you pushed yourself up with a groan, “it wasn’t even that bad, I-“

“wasn’t that bad?” he cut you off, eyebrows creasing into a frown as he perched himself on the bed beside you hesitantly, cautiously, as if scared to move for fear of hurting you. “y/n, it looked… awful. for a moment I wondered-“

“I got lucky.” it was your turn to do the interrupting, not wanting charles to go down that train of thought any further. “I’m fine, I promise. a bad concussion and… everything hurts, but nothing serious.”

you’d never seen charles cry before - even when things had ended between the two of you, he’d made sure to do that in private. it broke your heart, to know he thought, if only for a moment, that he’d come so close to losing you, and you leaned forward to pull him into your arms, ignoring the ache in your limbs.

since that weekend, you and charles had fallen back into an old routine. it was dangerous, but just like that very first kiss, it had been inevitable. neither of you wanted to cross that invisible line again, both too scared of repeating past mistakes. you couldn’t afford that type of heartbreak again. but you knew your story wasn’t over. not yet.

a/n: this was becoming longer than I intended, so I might do a second part to wrap it up properly :)

[scarapanna]

The main premise and events in the Intertwined Opposites AU

It's finally here!!!

I've managed to finally make a proper info post for my personal take on this silly possession AU craze as I've planned to do for a while since I'm totally normal about this concept (lie) /silly

Before proceeding, keep in mind that this post is gonna be pretty long as I'll be diving into important story events troughout the first half of it, so it gets the read more treatment as usual!!

There will be no crk spoilers here (except for the beast-yeast episodes), just a ""prologue" to current narrative events in the AU

[[Little edit but there now are some ref sheets for both Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla!!! They can be found here]]

•The beginning•

Everything starts in beast-yeast, once peace has been returned to the fairie kingdom

Now that the area is mostly free from danger with the silver tree's seal being properly mended, the crowd decides to start repairs and preparations to further celebrate everyone's victory for the remainder of the day.

However, as everyone starts to leave the area, something starts creeping out from the shadows created by the tree's roots

Turns out that Shadow Milk, now severely weakened from the blow taken in battle, has managed to flee from being forced back into his prison once more.

During Lily's blast of magic, he essentially "split" and discarded part of his own power as a last resort, separating what was already being sucked into the renewed seal from himself to avoid getting dragged into containment once more.

Unfortunately for the beast, both his panicked and sloppy procedure combined with the added strenght of the new guardian's spell left him with a very poor amount of strenght, with it not being enough for anything useful.

Needless to say, his mind is filled with hatred and anger as soon as he emerges

he can't really do much with this state, and thus lingers on formulating a plan to get what he wanted from the start, but how?

How would he get back on track, rid himself of the guardian, and break the seal once more like this?

The answer eventually comes to him, just right on top of a bridge alongside the one who restored his prison.

His souljam, the one he was once the owner of

Now "purified" and held by Pure Vanilla, it binds the two together with the virtue of knowledge, split in the lights of truth and deceit during the purification process.

These lights are owned by the beast, and the figure by the bridge in front of him, yet come from the same thing.

Shadow Milk has finally decided on a proper plan.

◆ What comes after and what it leads to ◆

Days pass, turning into a few weeks and ending with a trip back home to take a break and write down what happened during the beast-yeast expedition.

Everything seems to have gone well in the end, yet something still feels..wrong?

It's not the best term for it, but does the job well enough.

The vanilla kingdom is peaceful, and Pure Vanilla's return safe and sound brings back some joy to the citizens.

Yet it just doesn't feel right, he doesn't know what precisely, but the ancient is riddled with an odd feeling almost like being watched.

He might not realise it for now, but he had been right. Someone has been following him inside the castle for the entire duration of the trip.

Pure Vanilla slowly grows more wary as days pass, and his doubts are confirmed as Shadow Milk's idea is proven successful.

In the void Pure Vanilla is confronted by Shadow Milk cookie, he spills everything he's done without esitating twice, as there's no reason to hide it anymore.

Shadow Milk had always been there ever since the re-sealing of the tree, following Pure Vanilla and draining magic at a slow enough rate to not be noticed, until it was enough to take over his body without trouble.

Now that he had a "vessel" to work with, he could keep recharging power and be finally able to do his bidding.

He's questioned multiple times by Pure Vanilla, but he wouldn't budge, and the ancient manages to gather only their location and a few loose details.

This was not a void, this was a ""mind space"" where he was bound to stay while shadow milk used his body as a disguise, and he could not use magic to fight back against the beast.

Being out of options, Pure Vanilla quickly tries to think over what to do, and lingers over the situation to come up with something.

Shadow Milk proposes an idea to Pure Vanilla, sharing the vessel that both are confined in, to be sure he doesn't get caught.

This is only to one condition: the ancient must work in favour of the beast under it's watchful sight at all times

The Ancient complies, and a deal is sealed.

It's not a loss nor a victory, only a beginning

◆The current situation◆

Now that the main prologue is set, what happens precisely to both?

So, Shadow Milk cookie is essentially ""possessing"" Pure Vanilla, but not completely.

The two switch up control of the ancient's body in certain times of the day and night, sometimes Pure Vanilla is granted the lead and when he's not needed Shadow Milk takes it. He's pretty much using the ancient as a puppet, a disguise and a tool for his own gain, assigning him certain tasks so that his plan will work as intended.

Whenever one of them is not in control of their shared ""vessel"", they're send in the mindspace until the shift of control takes place and so on. Shadow milk never gives Pure Vanilla full "freedom" or personal space, having control of the shifts in lead and constantly keeping the ancient under watch trough mirrors and reflective surfaces (The only moments in which he's given alone time is when the beast is asleep in the mind space to retain magic).

The ancient, on the other hand, accepted Shadow Milk's offer right away without esitation, but for a much different reason.

Pure vanilla is trying to get the best out of his situation, and thus feels forced to go against his own morality to keep cookies safe and attempt to alarm them trough hints and hidden messages scattered in the kingdom.

Even if he doesn't like the means, what else could he do to keep everyone safe?

The difficulty of his situation causes him great stress and paranoia, which worsens as time goes on and Shadow Milk regains his powers bit by bit, making his actions more difficult to get away with unnoticed.

Here's some more info regarding the effects of sharing a vessel in two:

• Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk's connection by souljam makes sharing a body possible, otherwise it would be fatal to most cookies (As they're not made to be vessels).

• The slit in the souljam is a shared element which hints at Shadow milk's presence in both, during control shifts it flickers in different shades of gray.

• Remaining on the topic, control shifts are not plesant in the slightest to both parties involved, being defined by acute physical pain on the area covered by the souljam. This is inflicted on the current cookie in charge of the vessel during the shift, fading away only when back in the mindspace.

•The two can see eachother and comunicate trough reflective surfaces, with them displaying the current entity in the mindspace instead of the one leading the vessel.

• Pure Vanilla's voice sounds somewhat overlapped or distorted when shadow milk is in charge of his body, he can't change this aspect unfortunately for him.

• Certain factors like hunger and thirst are shared between the two due to their predicament, they can sometimes be heard debate over what to eat and when during the day.

• Sleep in the traditional sense is the only factor distinct to the two instead of being shared, as it's strictly based on "individual energy" rather than "shared energy"

[pieground]

Obey Me! NIGHTBRINGER Opening Video Analysis <informal>

Lucifer and his Brothers

Lucifer had his hands against the window, looking at the sky with his face painted with what I can only guess as nostalgia. It may seem as if he's longing for something but it is more of what happened after the Great Celestial War; that he and his brothers can no longer reach for their father, that the realm was no longer home, and that they lost Lilith along with their other brothers.

The scene tells us what it was like after their fall. Cast away from the place they once called their home, and now, it is a place they can only look upon from a distance. Locked out of Heaven (literally).

The Angels

Luke holds onto Simeon who acts as his guardian, both looking up to the sky through the window.

Now, I think this relates more to the brother's fall from the Celestial Realm and how it was never been the same ever since. They found fault in a place where it was supposed to be "perfect". It has affected everybody and it left a scar that cannot be hidden. I believe there are anger and frustrations in the angels, but that came from love— for Lucifer and his brothers. I believe there are parts in the Obey Me dating game that divulges angels, specifically Michael and Simeon, still feeling mournful about what happened. Luke has said he felt anger towards the brothers because he thinks they do not care about Michael after falling, but he acknowledged that he loves them still. Him holding onto Simeon is just as we all know, him seeking guidance, like asking if what he was feeling was alright, to the seraph who serves as his guardian.

I think Raphael walking here like it's just like the other days tells about him just continuing what he does even after the loss. He's got responsibilities that probably doubled after Lucifer was banished.

Solomon

Here we have Solomon standing in the middle of the rain, palms catching raindrops that only slipped through his fingers.

Now, Lucifer and his brothers (demons) are inside the House of Lamentation, and Simeon, Luke, and Raphael (angels) are in a place that I think was RAD(?). They are sheltered. Limited to where they stand but are sheltered.

Then there is Solomon, a human, who stands with no restrictions around him but has nothing to hold onto. Water just slips right through his hands, it seems to be related to his immortality. He's doomed to lose many things and along with those are people he loved; the curse of eternal life is loneliness.

This scene possibly shows us where humans stand, between heaven and hell.

A dove inside the cage

I thought it was a crow at first but it is actually a dove.

A dove is a symbol of spirituality, hope, and renewal. The scene showed us that the cage was opened and the dove—let us say the divinity, flew away. It tells that Lucifer and his brothers are no longer divine beings and are now not only tainted by their sins but became the very embodiment of them

The scene that followed strengthens the story for we can see Lucifer as a seraph, his hands out to catch the feather (supposedly from the dove), in what seems like an attempt to save the grace that is falling but it was too late for it's already broken. This shows how fragile divinity is especially for an angel.

Barbatos and his ability.

Barbatos most likely knew what was about to happen before the Great Celestial War, he and Diavolo anticipated the fall. If you think about it, it's beneficial for them to have the brothers working along with them as during that time, Devildom was rebuilding itself under Diavolo’s rule. Being an idealist, Diavolo wants to make the three realms acknowledge coexistence in peace. It's been said many times that to achieve his goals, he's willing to sacrifice anything.

PT.2 Here

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad! William Afton x (f)  Reader: New Year ( Warnings: Smut)

AN: Happy New Year to all my followers and all you WilliamAfton / SteveRaglan / MatthewLillard Fanbunnies. Here’s a little drabble that fits inside the stepdad AU universe.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Talk about adultery/secrecy/taboo relationship, mouth on v, p in v, unprotected s*x, threats of stepdaddy wanting to keep you with him.

The soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the room as you sat at your desk, pen in hand, diligently writing in your diary. The New Year had just begun, and with it came a sense of renewal, of change. You couldn't help but wonder what this new period in your life would bring—new experiences, new people, or perhaps a different side to those already in your life.

The door creaked open, and without looking up, you knew it was him—your stepdad, William. He entered quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. You didn't move, not even when he approached and placed a warm, strong hand on your shoulder.

"Enjoying the peace and quiet after all that partying?" he asked, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey.

"Definitely," you replied, setting your pen down. "Vanessa and Mike really went overboard with the drinking, huh?"

William chuckled, his fingers starting to trace slow circles on your shoulders, drifting lower with each pass. "Yeah, they were both pretty hungover the next day. Serves them right for turning our living room into a war zone."

You shivered at the sensation of his touch, but continued the conversation. "I guess it was a memorable way to start the year." Your thoughts betrayed you, wondering if William's presence in your room held some hidden meaning, some unspoken desire.

"Memorable indeed," he murmured, his hands now dangerously close to the curve of your breasts.

The heavy thud of your diary closing echoed through the dimly lit room. William's blue eyes locked onto yours, a shadowy look lurking in their depths. He leaned in, his breath hot and hushed against your ear.

"Your mother is doubting our wedding," he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. "She's talking about divorce. She suspects I've been fucking her darling daughter."

Your heart clenched at the words, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. You scowled at him, the unfairness of it all surging within you. It was he who had started this twisted game, manipulating you into secrecy. You would never want to hurt your mother this way. You’d never have allowed a married man to touch you if he hadn’t been living in the same house, under the same roof, manipulating you into this with every breath you took.

"And did you tell her the truth?” you hissed, accusingly. “Did you tell her how often you fuck her little girl?” You used those words on purpose, as William loved to remind you of how much younger and weaker you were compared to him. Nothing more but a little girl that needed to be put in her place. Whether you’d been bratty or not.

A low growl escaped his lips as he grabbed your wrist, flipping you over the desk without a moment's hesitation. Your body tensed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. He pushed your pants aside with rough fingers, and then… he surprised you.

His beard tickling your skin as he lowered his mouth to you.

"Dad!" you gasped, but it was too late. His tongue traced patterns on your most sensitive flesh, teasing you mercilessly. A shudder ran down your spine, the pleasure building up inside, threatening to explode.

The tip of the tongue dipped in. He slurped and sucked and suckled on your nub until you writhed in pleasure. But a strong hand kept you pushed down, your chest against the desk, your diary trapped underneath your tummy.

"Remember who's in charge here," he murmured against you, his voice dark with desire. The air from his lips tickled your wet folds. You felt a shiver run down your spine, felt your walls pulse helplessly with pleasure.

He always managed to do this to you. The strong hand kept pushing you down, giving you no room to move away from the onslaught of his mouth. His lips, his tongue, his beard – he was driving you insane. This must be the reason your mom invited him into her life, you thought through the haze. He was so good in giving you pleasure, that you’d forget whether you had said yes or no or had allowed him in. The sensation of his beard brushing against you only heightened the intensity, pushing you closer to the edge. You were seeing stars.

And then his lips were gone.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice wavering. "Daddy, please." The word felt strange on your tongue, but there was no denying the thrill it sent through you. William's eyes darkened with lust as he flipped you over, onto your back, and positioned himself between your legs.

"Remember, you are my little girl too now," he growled before thrusting inside without warning. The intensity of it left you gasping for breath, fingers digging into the edge of the desk. His movements were rough and hungry, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of both fear and pleasure.

His cock was stretching you impossibly wide, your vaginal walls pulsed around him in an effort to fit him in. Slick lubed him all the way, dripping down and even coating his balls that were heavy and tightened with each thrust, ready to burst.

"Harder," you managed to choke out, driven by a need you couldn't quite comprehend. He obliged, his grip on your hips bruising and unyielding. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, torn between desire for William and guilt over betraying your mother.

"Mine," he snarled, his eyes locked onto yours as he drove into you with brutal force. The desk squeaked and thudded against the wall, the papers that had been laying upon it fell to the floor, your phone tumbled over the edge. The word echoed in your mind, pulsing with each pounding heartbeat. You belonged to him, body and soul, and there was something undeniably intoxicating about that fact.

As the coil within you tightened, desperation clawed at your chest. "Oh, Dad, I'm—"

"Say it," he demanded, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

"Daddy," you whispered, barely audible. “I’m gonna come on your cock.” And with that final submission, you shattered beneath him, your climax crashing over you in waves. It took him a few more firm thrusts but he followed soon after, his release hot and possessive inside you.

You bit your lip after catching your breath, listening to the low pants of your stepdad as he too got down from his high. You watched as he ran a hand through his wispy hair, grey locks betraying how much older he was compared to you. Not that you minded. You thought the age had added a spark to him – like fine wine.

Withdrawing from your trembling body and leaving a trail of lukewarm cum on the inside of your thigh, William reached down, sliding your diary from underneath you. He flipped it open, his eyes scanning the pages. The thin-lipped serious expression he wore slowly was replaced by a predatory smirk. As he read, his smile only grew wider, more satisfied.

"Look at this," he murmured, his fingers tracing over your words. "You write you can’t wait for us to fuck. So eager during the day, waiting for your mom to go away so Daddy can have his fucking fun on the playground.”

A low groan, an indication of what your words did to him. You knew exactly which parts he was reading. The entries where you described how your body had started to adjust to him. How it felt when he had you warm his cock. How happy you were when he made you cum afterward. How your feelings for him had started to change. Whatever they had been in the beginning, they had been fully replaced with an unadulterated love for him.

His blue eyes met yours, the smirk never leaving his face. “You like it when I fuck you, sweetheart. How sweet. It even says you claim to have fallen in love with me."

He closed the diary, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on the top of your head. The contrast between his earlier violence and this tender gesture left you reeling. He helped you up into a sitting position before he turned away from you, adjusting his pants and making sure he looked presentable again.

"I'll find a way to keep you with me," he promised, his voice low and dangerous.

You knew you should have been terrified, but all you could feel was that strange, dark thrill deep within your core. William Afton had claimed you, and there was no going back.

~

If you like this kind of filth, I have a lot more of Stepdad!Afton x Reader and more coming up. I also write for other interesting bad men such as slasher characters. If you are feeling generous - as it is the season of giving - you can always leave me a little thank you on my Ko-Fi (:

I’ll post some quick links below to other works. My prompt box is still open, but I will be heading into the hospital at the end of December and depending on my treatment, I might have to close it in the near future. But I’ll keep you up to date :)

Quick links:

~~ Masterlist - Request Box -  Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

[hypewinter]

Danny sat in the large crater, breathing heavily. His ears were ringing and fat tears flowed freely from his eyes. When he felt a presence approach him from behind, he wiped at his eyes vigorously and hissed, "What did you do?"

Vlad staggered a little, observing the wasteland around them. "I- I didn't mean to-" his words were cut off when Danny pounced on him. "WHAT DID YOU DO!?" he screamed.

The young halfa knocked the man to the ground and started punching him over and over again. He didn't care about the blood that coated his fists or splattered on his torn suit, he just kept punching and punching. All of a sudden, strong arm wrapped around his torso and pulled him away. Danny struggled against the stranger for a time but he was already so tired. He stopped fighting and went limp. "You can stop now son, he's already defeated," they said.

Danny twisted around in the hold on him to come face to face with none other than Superman. Superman? Why here? Why now? When it was too late. "Why only now?" he voiced.

The anger boiled in him, renewing his vigor and Danny swung his fist, connecting with Superman's nose. The boy in blue went down and Danny followed after him. He got on top of him, grabbing handfuls of fabric. "This whole time you never came. I tried to contact you. All of you. So many times and you never came. Now you come? When it's too late!? You- you could have stopped this!"

The burst of energy left him just as quickly as it came and grief took back over. Danny let go and turned to stare out at the empty crater that once was Amity Park. "You could have saved them," he whispered, more tears falling down his cheeks.

[queenshelby]

MINI SERIES: THE SLAVE

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL LOSS OF VIRGINITY, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

Just as he had promised, later that night and when you were already fast asleep following some serious exhaustion after what had transpired, Tommy entered your room at around one o'clock.

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated his figure as he approached the bed where you laid sprawled out.

Without bothering to wake you, he took off his briefs and gave his cock a few strokes, causing it to stand tall and erect, before he gently climbed on to the bed.

He nestled his knees on either side of your waist, positioning himself directly above you. With one arm supporting his weight, he reached down to push your panties to the side, exposing your rather sore and swollen mound. 

The sensation startled you and you woke up with a jolt, gasping at the unexpected sensation of Tommy aligning his member with your torn hole.

"I am tired," you whined, squirming underneath him but your efforts proved futile as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them beside your head.

"Sshh," he hushed you, his warm breath caressing your ear. "You know that you are mine now, Love. And I'm going to use you however I please," Tommy said smugly, his cock throbbing against your sensitive entrance before, with one forceful thrust, he plunged himself into you.

You gasped, your body arching involuntarily in response to the renewed intrusion.

"Just relax," he growled, grinding himself against you, his erection burrowing deeper and deeper into your aching hole. "It's just going to be a quick fuck and then you can go back to sleep, eh?" Tommy whispered into your ear, his voice laced with lust.

"You know that my needs come first, don't you?" He said, his tone matter-of-factly, as he adjusted his position above you. The heat of his body radiated onto you, and you could smell the musky scent of his arousal.

"Don't worry, I am almost done," he murmured, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to thrust into you again. 

He thrust harder, his cock driving deeper into you with each movement.

"You feel so good," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "My beautiful little whore." Tommy's voice was husky, full of lust as he admired the way your body trembled beneath him. 

"You know that I can't resist your sweet little pussy, Love," he rasped, pulling out and thrusting back into you roughly. "All I can think about is getting my cock deeper inside you." he hummed, relishing the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of your body until, finally, with a loud groan, he exploded inside you, filling you up with his seed.

You gasped, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him. This was your life now, serving a man who saw you as nothing more than a sex object.

As he climbed off of you, you could feel his cum trickling down your leg and onto the bedsheets. The smell of sex lingered in the air, and all you wanted to do was clean up and fall back asleep.

Despite exhaustion, you listened to his heavy footsteps recede down the hallway, the sound of them fading away until they vanished completely before you made your way to the bathroom. 

Washing yourself off in the shower, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions: shame, disgust, anger, fear, and resignation. Yet, you also discovered a newfound longing for release from this torment, a desperate wish for freedom from him.

"Maybe if I try to escape," you thought to yourself, "maybe if I run far enough away, he won't find me." But deep down, you knew the truth: he had power, influence, and connections. Escaping would be impossible. At least for now.