#hope y'all enjoy

[answer2jeff]

break-up, make-up.

song : post break-up sex

warnings : fem!reader, porn with some plot, smut, unprotected piv, make-up sex, lip being needy, mentions of alcohol and smoking (tobacco), reader has scumbag friends, sad pathetic banging, intentional lowercase. (lip and reader are 18.)

word count: 3,707

authors note: this is only like my 2nd time writing smut.......

your abdomen felt cold pressed against the marble of your bathroom counter. pulling at the skin of your face, running your fingers through your messy hair, and picking yourself apart in the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet. you didn't feel like yourself. you swung the cabinet open, reaching for a hard candy eyeshadow pallet, a black eye pencil so old the label had rubbed off, and a mauve-brownish lip liner.

your phone buzzed against your pocket. you groaned, dropping your products into the sink before snatching it from the depths of your jeans.

773-642-3719: party @ ashleys 2night. u coming? 2:36pm.

it must've been karina. ever since you gave her your number on your break during your waitressing shift at patsy's, she'd been trying to drag you out of the house. you couldn't blame her. mopey from your breakup, picking up as many hours as possible, spending your free time collecting coupons for shopping sprees you'd never go on to spend money you didn't have, she was sick of you ruining the atmosphere everywhere you went.

or, wherever you didn't go, more accurately.

"he's just a guy. just—go fuck someone else! who cares if he's a dick just like him. focus on the task at hand: getting laid," she told you, licking strawberry jam from the tip of her middle finger.

"i'm just gonna miss him more," you sighed, watching the clock tick as your 15 minutes of what was supposed to be relaxing free time, was going to waste.

"*** ******** is not some kind of sex god, okay? the sex was good. you can find good sex anywhere."

"whatever."

he was more than that. he was more than the sex. he was the kisses in the early mornings where you'd wake up with him in your sheets. he was the whispers of 'you're so beautiful,' and 'i love you,' whenever you doubted yourself. he was the shitty jokes and late night walks, splitting cigarettes and dabbling in gossip. he was your best friend.

but he was also the hands that slammed your bedroom door. he was also the alcohol on his breath. he was also the words that told you to 'get your shit together.' he was also the broken promises he could never keep.

but he was more than anything karina saw him as.

i'll be there :) 2:38pm.

773-642-3719: bring some1 cute with u! 2:40pm.

you stared blankly at her text.

👍 2:42pm.

bring someone with me? who the hell would i bring? daniel's working tonight. and he's not cute. well—he's not ugly, but...no. stop. just drop it. you don't need to bring a guy with you. jesus. you don't need anyone. relax.

i'm here. 12:37am.

you knocked about 3 times before a lanky, raven haired boy with puke all over his title fight t-shirt swung the door open. you looked past his shoulder to see a group of familiar faces behind him.

"please tell me that's not h—" a short blonde girl groaned before a redhead, eliza, butted in.

"there she is!" she yelled, calling karina over.

the warm glow of the living room complimented the post-punk rock that rang through the poster filled walls of ashley's house. you were met with waves from your friends. karina beamed and quickly made her way over to the front door to greet you. her chunky sandals boomed against the hardwood floor, her red solo cup nearly falling out of her hand.

"you made it!" she smiled, taking your hand and dragging you into the makeshift frat house, slamming the front door behind you. the atmosphere was uncomfortably warm. probably due to everyone sweating their asses off from drunkenly dancing and grinding on each other.

"uh, yeah—i'm kinda late. sorry."

"fashionably late," she corrected you as you followed her through dozens of other girls and into the kitchen.

you analyzed the space. you knew a couple people here, either from work or highschool, since it was the summer after senior graduation, but there were plenty of girls and guys you'd never seen in your life. for the first time in months, meeting new people was sickening. immediately reaching for the bottle of tito's to help ease your mind, eliza stopped you. she furrowed her strawberry blonde eyebrows at you, shaking her head.

"uh-uh. you're the designated driver, sweetie. we can't have you drunk, too!"

your mouth gaped open in disbelief. were you seriously dragged here just to play babysitter?

"but there's plenty else to do," karina peaked her head out of the kitchen and eyeing a couple of her friends that resided on the couch, beer bottles in hand. you couldn't help but turn your head to look, too.

"mikey's got weed," she pointed to a shirtless brunette, "and i think destiny brought some—fuckin, i don't know, xanax to cool your nerves."

you nodded, lips pulled tight in a painfully neutral expression that read 'okay' and 'fuck you i hope you break every bone in your body and live your life as a spiritless vegetable,' at the same time. your arms were crossed against your chest, your body pretty much caving in at the amount of sheer embarrassment that coursed through you.

"since you're, y'know, kinda losing it," eliza wiped the corner of her mouth where whiskey-soda had been dripping from it, pointing her finger at you. her messy red nail polish on healthy long nails taunted you.

you felt like a wad of pink chewing gum: slammed between teeth and tongue just to be spit out and drenched in spit. but you weren't useless enough to be thrown away. just stuck under a table for some gross, unsanitary bitch to pick it up again and stick it right back in her gossipy mouth. cursing yourself for being here, you stormed out of the kitchen and made your way toward the back porch.

if you left, you'd be a prude. but if you stayed and drank, kissing strangers and making up stories filled with little white lies, you'd be deemed a slut for the rest of the summer. your last choice was to stick around, being that annoying girl who smoked cigarettes outside of the party to freak people out.

and so, you did. you hung around outside, watching people come in and out. occasionally, someone would stop to ask if you were alright, if you wanted a drink, or just someone to talk to. you politely declined every time. almost like you were waiting for some other opportunity to spring up in front of you.

"hey," a voice behind you rasped.

it startled you. it was painfully familiar. so much it made your heart drop to your empty stomach. you turned yourself around, eyes met with blue orbs that stared directly into you.

there he was. lip. your lip.

except he wasn't yours. not here. not now. possibly not ever.

"oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me, gallagher."

your hands grabbed onto the wooden railing of the porch steps. hoisting yourself up, you brushed off any dirt that smeared onto your dark blue jeans. your eyes were glued to the ground as you tried to swiftly move past him the moment you could stand up.

"no, c'mon—" he pleaded, rolling his eyes and following you back into the house. he hadn't had a sip of booze. for once, his mind was completely in the clear.

eliza and karina sat on the kitchen counter, their shoulders pressed together while shared a beer bottle, possibly their 6th or 7th of the night. you seriously wondered what they even talked about. they didn't have much in common other than the fact that they both liked reeking havoc on innocent people. and you.

"did one of you fucking invite him?" you spat, stepping just a foot away from the two of them snatching the beer bottle from karina's hand, you held it tightly in your fist, your fingertips turning pink at the brute force.

"lip? yeah, i did! wait, did you guys break up, or something?" eliza laughed, twirling a red curl around her finger while she gave an obnoxious wave to lip as he stood behind you. he bit the inside of his cheek, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into enraged fists.

your jaw had been nailed to the floor at this point. karina looked down at the ground in shame. she didn't care about your 'healing' or 'getting laid.' all she cared about was stirring shit. it was such a middle school stunt for a 19 year old girl to pull. finally snapping, you slammed the beer bottle onto the ground, watching it shatter into a million pieces. clenching your teeth, you looked back up to see the disturbed expressions on your 'friends' faces. they weren't allowed to make this decision for you. you would decide if and when you were ready to act like a normal fucking person around lip.

a boyfriend wasn't the only thing you lost. you lost a friend, a piece of yourself.

hot tears pricked at your waterline. you spun back around and darted towards the front door. shoving through people, your hands grabbing onto their arms and not-so-gently moving them out of your path. you could feel lip's footsteps behind you, his pathetic whines calling out for your name; calling out for his friend ex-girlfriend.

"hey, would you just fucking talk to me? please?"

you finally stopped, taking a deep breath and letting the salty tears that streamed down your face smudge your mascara before turning to face him. the angry knit of his brows from earlier was gone. his face relaxed, a breath of relief escaping his mouth when he could finally just look at you. he took in the sight of your tears, your swollen lips, your shoulders that tensed under your jacket, the way your jaw trembled when you cried.

"i don't wanna talk," you muttered as you shook your head, "i just—i don't wanna talk here. can we go upstairs, or something?"

you stared back, half of your bottom lip barred behind your teeth, analyzing every inch of him. the way his hair that ended at the middle of his ear had grown a bit too thick, the line that formed between his chin and his lower lip when he frowned, his short eyebrows, how prominent his philtrum was, and his blue eyes that caught your attention the day you met in 10th grade chemistry. you missed the way the top row of his small teeth would beam whenever he laughed.

"yeah," lip nodded, "we don't have to be down here, alright? c'mon," he reached for your hand, tilting his head as he tried to stare into you.

you worried about forgetting the feeling of his hands gently caressing your face, rubbing your back when he held you close, twirling your hair around his fingers, when his palms would indent the plush of your thighs, or when he'd grab onto your waist when you kissed him.

there was no way you'd ever forget now.

"jesus, lip—" you huffed through open-mouthed kisses, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his shoulders. the cold wall against your warm back made you shiver once he tore your shirt off from over your head, along with the jacket he zipped down and gently slipped it off from your arms as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your collarbones.

in the most needy, starved way possible, you tugged at his cotton t-shirt. almost as if he'd read your mind, despite him being on a completely different planet, he pulled away from your mouth and peeled his grey t-shirt off with the same hands that rubbed those fucking circles against your hips the way he always did when he kissed you again.

some things just never changed.

your fingertips pressed against his bare abdomen until they made their way up to his chest. you missed seeing that little triangle tattoo that tyler gave him in the school bathroom. kissing it, tracing your fingernails around the perimeter, occasionally biting and soothing the mark with your lips.

"fuck this stupid party," he scoffed, his hand getting a hold of your chin and tilting your head back up to face him. you looked into him through your lashes, lids low with desire. the look in your eyes ruined him.

"yeah. fuck it."

you glanced at his lips and back into his eyes, just for him to smash his mouth into yours again. it was a mess of teeth and tongue while you entangled your hands in his hair.

"shit—" lip detached himself from your mouth to fill his lungs with hair that smelled like your perfume and sex.

his hands cradled your face so gently it was like you'd break if he ever dared to let go. your hands moved over the groves of his arms and up to his shoulders over and over again, the feeling of soft, supple skin never getting old.

"c'mere, pretty girl," lip breathed against your ear, his hand wrapping your neck gently.

he desperately began sucking and biting the tender skin, coming back to comfort it with pecks and blows of fast, cool air. tuffs of curly blonde hair tickled your jawline every time. his veiny hands roamed down the sides of your torso, never traveling up, until you tried removing your bra yourself. lip shook his head, removing his hands from your hips and reaching behind you to unclip the uncomfortable fabric while you clung to his shoulders for support.

"lip—" you protested, slowly growing impatient.

"i got it, baby," he whispered, kissing your shoulder before carefully slipping the straps over your shoulders and off of your body. that pet name hadn't bounced off of his tongue and rang through your ears in weeks.

once he tossed the bra to the floor, your body relaxed as lip backed away just an inch or two to admire you. he smiled, teeth and all. maybe he really did miss you. your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly backing him up towards the bed of the guest room.

funny. you swore what you and lip had was more than the sex. and it was. you weren't lying about that. but my god, the crave for his skin against yours was unbearable. flashes of your hookups projected over your head. the moans that erupted from you while you tugged on his blonde curls for dear life as he pounded into your weeping cunt—you missed all of it.

"i can't believe you even showed up here," you muttered, using the pads of your fingertips to shove lip onto the soft mattress, silk sheets feeling cold against his back. he glared at you through furrowed brows, propping himself up on his elbows. but his expression softened when he saw you unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the fly down and hastily kicking them off.

"me? you—" he let out a shaky breath, gnawing at the inside of his mouth and sitting up right, "you haven't been out of the house for days."

he stared down at the white lacy underwear you wore, fighting the urge to get up and tear them down your ass until they fell at your ankles.

"and how the hell would you know that?"

you raised your eyebrows, signaling to lip to fall back again so you could reveal the aching bulge in his pants. that same bright smile of excitement made your stomach stir as you were unbuttoning and unzipping the denim that imprisoned his cock.

"been spyin' on you a little bit," he joked, but he wasn't totally kidding. for the past week and a half, he'd been taking 'shortcuts' to get to any destination just so he could briefly stop in front of your place. just to see if you'd ever come out and coincidentally run into him. he even started going to your usual hangout spots to see if you'd turn up.

but you never did. him even going to this party was solely based on the off chance that you might've been here. possibly with a new guy. but you weren't. you were alone. just like he often was.

"how sweet," you teased, tracing the tattoo on his chest. caving into your urges, you tilted your head lower to pet it with a kiss, your eyes closed before trailing your lips back up to his own. he huffed through his nose, laughing at your gesture. it was cute. you were cute. lips hands moved down to your hips, his fingers slipping underneath the waist band of your panties. that little puddle of arousal shining through the white fabric of your thong only egged lip on. he looked into your eyes for permission, not wasting any time to help you remove them the moment you nodded your head.

letting him pull them down the plush of your thighs, you turned just enough where you could slip them past your calf's where they pooled at your feet before finally slipping off onto the floor. a delicate hand reached to pull down the fabric of his boxers, his leaking, pink tip practically making you drool the moment his cock sprung out. the heat and humidity of the room making the thick vein down the side of his length twitch just the slightest. you felt a yearning heat build up in your core as you wiggled your hips closer.

"now," you reached between your thighs to coil your fingers round lip's hardening cock, "i need you to fuck me like you haven't gotten laid in a thousand years."

"that's pretty much what it's felt like." lip mumbled so quietly you barely caught it. he looked up at you, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before he used his thumb to caress your cheek.

"wait, you—you haven't been with anyone else?"

lip paused, realizing he admitted to not seeing a single other person since you broke up. it almost surprised you that you weren't the only one who was sex deprived.

"fuck would that do? bring you back?" he tried to laugh, accidentally gasping at the feeling of your wet cunt brushing past his throbbing dick. you noticed this, smiling back at him and slowly trying to position yourself perfectly.

"well, you have me now."

those words were all it took. with one swift motion, lip finally caught a grip on the fat of your hips, guiding you gently down his cock, your wetness making a makeshift lubricant.

"always so fuckin' wet for me," lip praised, smiling at the sight of how easily he filled you up to the brim of your cervix. watching your face contort from slight discomfort and into full bliss was his fucking kryptonite. you gasped, the immediate stuffed feeling hitting your stomach. lip winced at the tight sensation, already cursing under his raspy breath and whispering incoherent praises. "so—so fuckin' tigh...fu–ck" you gave him some time to adjust, propping your hands behind you so you could grind against him just right.

lip began rolling your hips back and forth, wet sounds of sex filling up the room. whimpers of "fuck, yes lip," and "just like that," only made his sexual frustration worse.

"'missed you so fuckin' much, baby. shit—you make me feel amazing. so, so fuckin' good." his hands dig deeper into your hips, making their way to your ass to squeeze and occasionally slap the flesh. you flinched with a moan, his dick hitting your gummy walls at a slightly different angle each time.

"m—fuck, missed you too, lip. you have no idea," your lungs begged for air, your tits bouncing slightly at the constant movement of your hips as you chased your high. you looked down at him, tears of arousal filling up your hooded eyes. lip marveled at the sight of your pleasure, inching closer and closer to cumming inside of you right then and there—but he had to savor this. grunting

how could he have waited this long to make amends with you? his groans felt like they practically echoed and bounced off of the walls. he needed to focus on your needs tonight. he pried between your crotchets, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing sloppy, rough circles against the bundle of nerves.

"slower, hun," you cooed, moving up and down his cock to keep his tip pounding right into your g-spot every time. the idea of staying quiet had never been this hard—but the music and shouting from downstairs was bound to cover for the two of you. lip nodded his head, slowing down his pace and gently grinding his hips into yours as his thumb remained at work.

after the few moments of pure bliss, moans and cries of lip's name coming from you that he wished would last an eternity, he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. similarly, you started forcefully catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling. your head went foggy, every word that fell out of your mouth turning into messy gibberish. lip could tell you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to give up.

"i don't think i'm gonna last any longer," lip clenched his teeth, his hand aching from prioritizing your pleasure while his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. he'd been fucked out without even finishing a single time.

"me neither—"

desperately trying to get a hold of yourself, your body gave out. your thighs began to shake, your cunt contracting. trying to muffle your shrieks, you cupped a hand over your saliva-slick mouth. your hips moved as fast as you could ever dreamed was possible, forcing you to grab onto lip's shoulder blades for support. lip could literally see his dick rolling up and down your stomach as he moaned your name, his eyes screwed shut. finally, just at the very last second, he took every bit of strength left in his body to flip you over, your back pressed against the sheets while you reached your climax. he pulled out with a groan, white ropes of sticky cum coating your lower stomach and the space right under your tits.

makeup sex was not how you envisioned this night would go. but how could you complain?

[mystery-pixels]

day and night

[sansbyshipper]

My submission for @shalaaex, I did this like 4 days ago and now I'm posting it. Hope you enjoy!

[telekineticseance]

TIME STANDS STILL

pairing: matt stone x f! assistant reader

summary: it's christmas time!

genre: smut

word count: 1632

cw: legal age gap, fingering (f!receiving), p in v

author's note: SURPRISE! A Christmas kind of like bonus part to Circumstances. Merry Christmas! Sorry if this isn't the best it's been a while I fear.

The office buzzed with people as the sound of Christmas songs played softly throughout the building.

“What’s up with the costumes?” Trey asked next to you, a beer in his hand as he looked down at you. A few girls in the office thought it would be cute to wear little elf dresses with matching elf headbands to get into spirit while everyone else wore some kind of ugly Christmas sweater.

You gave him a small shrug in response, not really paying attention, as you were looking around for Matt. He didn’t really care much for the holidays for as long as you had known him and he was late to the party.

“Y/N?”

You turned your gaze to Trey, “I’m sorry what?”

He let out a small laugh as he looked at you, “He’ll be here. But until then..the costumes?”

“Oh it’s just a little thing we planned. Thought it would be cute. Kind of like Mean Girls like but elves instead of Santa.” You shrugged, taking a sip from your cup as you continued to let your eyes skim the room.

He chuckled lightly, giving you a nod in response as he took another sip from his drink before you saw Matt walk in as a grin rose to your face. You tried to hide it since it was still a secret between the three of you, but every time you saw him you still had that same look as when you had a crush on him.

Matt’s eyes met yours before he walked over to where you and Trey stood with a smile on his face. His hair had grown out more in the last couple months, so as he walked towards you, you couldn’t help but look at the gray curls poke out the hole in the backwards cap he wore.

He walked over to the two of you, pulling you in for a “friendly” side hug as he gave you a small greeting, letting his eyes linger at your chest for a moment before he gave Trey a greeting, handing him a little bag, “Merry Christmas Trey.”

Trey took the bag in his hand before him and Matt started talking to one another as you listened for a moment before one of the others from the office called you over. You excused yourself from the two, lightly putting your hand on Matt’s arm, giving it a small squeeze before walking over to the group and listening to them as they talked about what they would be doing in the new year or something similar.

After a while you walked over to the table where the food sat, putting a few pieces from the charcuterie board onto the plate before you felt the presence of a tall figure standing behind you.

“Meet me by the cubicles near my office in like 5 minutes okay?” Matt’s voice got low from behind you as you gave a small nod, watching his hand reach around you as he grabbed a piece of fruit from the plate, giving you a small grin as he ate it while he walked away.

You rolled your eyes playfully before you stood around, waiting for the 5 minutes to pass as you ate your plate before throwing the paper plate into the trash as you walked over to the cubicles.

You walked around, looking for Matt as you did. Suddenly you felt a hand grab you and pull you down to the ground in one of the cubicles.

Matt gave you a small smile as he looked at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he caressed your face. He put his lips to yours, kissing you gently as you started kissing back, feeling his thumb stroke your cheek as he did.

He pulled away, looking at you as he did before his face lit up, “I almost forgot!”

You watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box with a small ribbon on it.

“Matt..” You breathed out, looking at the box as he shrugged, “It’s not much I just wanted to get you something.”

You opened the box, revealing a silver bracelet with a small heart charm hanging next to a charm that held your birthstone. It was simple, but that’s just how you liked it.

“I wanted to get you something that wouldn’t raise suspicion as to who got it for you but enough to where you’d like it.” His voice was soft as he eyed you while you stared at the bracelet in awe.

“It’s more than enough Matt. Thank you. I love it.” You smiled, as he helped you by putting the bracelet on your wrist, followed by another small kiss. “You know..I got you something too. Well..kind of.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you in confusion, “What do you mean by kind of?”

You shrugged, “You’ll just have to see later.” You gave him a small wink before you started getting up from the spot on the floor in front of him, “We should get back before people notice.”

You turned to look back at him as he looked at you, before shrugging, “Or we could just…go to my place. Or your place.” He mumbled as he got up behind you, letting his hand hold lightly graze your arm as you bit your bottom lip.

“Do you think nobody will notice you showing up late and then leaving early?”

He shrugged, “I think they’re all too drunk to notice anyways.” His voice was low as he let his eyes wander along your clothes, the plunging neckline once again finding his gaze.

He was right, and one of the things you had learned about Matt was that it was nearly impossible to try and tease him in any way because he found a way to quickly get his way even if that meant taking you into the nearest bathroom or closed off room.

You gave him a nod in response, before the two of you snuck out deciding on meeting up at his place since the two of you found it easier to sneak around there.

The two of you arrived at a similar time before getting out of your cars and walking into the house, feeling Matt’s hands caressing your lower back before the two of you walked in the door.

It didn’t take much time before you felt Matt press you against the wall, allowing his hands to pin your arms above your head as he kissed you roughly. His hands gripped your wrists tightly, his breath hot against your lips.

“Matt..” You breathed out into the kiss as he pulled away, looking down at you. “Hm?”

“Did you want that Christmas gift?”

He gave you a nod as he pulled his hands away, watching you closely as you peeled off the dress, revealing a ribbon-esque lingerie, perfect for the season, or at least you thought. Matt’s eyes scanned, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the end of the ribbon as he looked at you with his eyes lit up.

“I love you so much,” He grinned down at you before he tugged at the ribbon, letting it fall to the ground around your ankles. The cold air touching your skin caused you to let out a small gasp as you looked at Matt, as you ran your hands along his torso before undoing his jeans.

You tugged at his jeans and boxers as Matt’s stroke your thighs gently before he rubbed his fingers along your clit, causing you to let out a small whine from his touche as he slipped his fingers in between your walls, thrusting them deep.

He put his lips to yours once more, allowing you to moan into his mouth as he curled his fingers while thrusting. You felt the tips of his fingers graze your g-spot as you let out a small gasp, tightening your grip on his curls.

Matt’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him from the wall as he pulled his fingers out, using his hand to stroke at his length before he thrusted himself in. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you felt the angle shift slightly, leaning your head against the wall behind you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he moved. His grip tightened on your waist as he pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours so his eyes could meet yours.

You closed your eyes for a moment before he spoke up, “Mm-mm. Look at me.” The tone was low as he spoke to you.

Listening to him, you opened your eyes, your heart skipping beats as he held his gaze to yours. You moved your other hand to caress his face, the stubble on his cheek almost feeling like little pricks against your fingers as the other hand continued to stay tangled in his hair.

“M’so good.” Matt groaned as his eyebrows furrowed while he thrusted, rapidly hitting your g-spot as you bit your bottom lip, small whines escaping from you.

“I’m so close,” You breathed out, as you arched your back against the wall.

“Come for me,” He spoke lowly. It didn’t take much longer before you did, feeling yourself release around his cock as he continued thrusting.

His thrusts slowed as he let out a soft groan as he came, breathing heavily against your lips before he gave you a small kiss. Pulling away as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, letting your feet touch the ground beneath you.

He continued to have his arms around you as he looked at you, “Merry Christmas..” He let out a small chuckle as he spoke between breaths.

“Merry Christmas Matt.”

[aioliravioli-69]

Detective Noir AU

Alright, this au has been sitting around, waiting for me to finish it but chances are, I never will :((

So instead, I'll just post what I have so far

This was inspired by that one comment on the au post the author made(at this point you could consider me a stalker for the amount of hours I've scrolled through her feed💀)

First things first, none other than our main character himself, Detective Hollow!

I made him the detective in this one mainly because I was basing it off of the theory that if there was no heroine the keyholder would simply become the hero instead(don't remember where I read this but I'm guessing it was the webtoon comment section).

I also my have just really wanted to draw him in an overcoat

gonna be honest, I did little to no research going into this AU, the thing I most tried to learn about was the femme fatale so I could get a good view on how to design Buddy

Speaking of the femme fatale:

Seems like someone got caught in the spotlight!

And before you ask, yes, those are pants. Weird ones, but pants nonetheless. I swear, I hate lighting when it's from the front. Frontal lighting can go fuck itself. Please ignore the little help lines I put in

Honestly, Buddy's outfit was probably the hardest part of this one. I wanted him to look slutty, but I didn't want to make it TOO slutty, but I feel like I may have added WAYY too many folds in his pantsuit and I kinda messed up on the overcoat lol. The diamond on his chest was inspired by the diamond on the villainess key more than anything and I tried to incorporate that into his gloves too.

Anyway, have some potential outfit sketches I made:

the two I thought might come off as too slutty and

the ultimate winner of the outfit ideas

As you can see the diamond chest window and fur coat were a mut in this outfit and I'm pretty happy with the end result

Y'all know how the femme fatale usually has to seduce the main character a.k.a. the detective?

Well, y'all know me so have an extra just for you <33

But I'm not done just yet!

Remember how I said that I made Chase the hero because of the lack of a heroine in the story? Well...

I did some more surface level research(and I mean very surface level) and decided to adapt the trope of the girl-next-door archetype for him!!

Don't think it suits him, since they usually just sit pretty and wait for the detective to notice them, but they do have badass roles once in a while and I live for those!!!

The one Chase has taken on doesn't though sadly :')

I decided to go with Charlie Hollow for this one because it sounded more like something the timid and 'pure'(yuck I know, but sadly film noir movies often prop up comparisons between the femme fatale and the girl-next-door, this being one of them) girl next door would have

Overall I tried to make this one as cutesy as possible because, why not lol

Lastly(I apologise, I made this in a rush because I was running out of motivation)

The distance between Buddy and the detective sure did close QUICK-

Originally I was planning on adding Deacon as a police officer and now that I think about it I could technically fit Prunella in here as well, but I just don't have any willpower left to keep this thing alive

My art blocks been acting up recently and I can't even pick up the pencil without immediately wanting to put it down :((

I wish I could have continued this and maybe I will someday, but until then this'll just stay in my drafts

[penncilkid]

Imma listen to Fool!Milo when I get home but in the meantime, lemme just— *throws a different shifter at y'all*

Me? Drawing David Shaw properly? More likely than you think. Real talk though, this sketch is gonna be part of an art collab with @mr-laveau at some point. I just couldn't help but post it too (/lh /pos).

[Quick Stats (Under The Cut)]

-6'0" (Tallest of the main pack, Darlin included)

-Latino, specifically Colombian (Him and Milo using Spanish to communicate at times is everything to me)

-His lip scar is sacred to me (And part of my "everyone in the pack has a facial scar" agenda)

-Dog tags have Gabe's name on them and were gifted by Milo after he passed

-He can grow a fuller beard but tends to keep it cut shorter (or clean shaven)

[cloudwhisper23]

“Stay with me,” the animatronic growled. “They want you for some reason. And I don’t think it’s to help fix up those wounds.”

“You’re losing.”

“It appears that way.” Springtrap grumbled. “Five on one isn’t very pleasant you know. It wasn’t fun then, it isn’t fun now.”

“You’re not fighting back.”

I might actually die here, Mike realized, stunned. If he died in this other universe, he’d never be able to stop his father and save the other kids. He failed Evan, but if he didn’t save the others…

Determination shot through Mike as he remembered the times he’d accidentally used his powers as Freddy. This definitely qualified as a desperate enough time to scream.

So he did.

Springtrap twitched a bit, his malfunction taking a bit longer than the other animatronics, and Mike was able to crawl a little ways away before Springtrap collapsed like the other animatronics. Just in time to see the ghost of his little brother appear.

[brennan-lee-mother]

The fourth chapter of my angsty Fabian character study is out now! Fabian spends a day with Ivy and her horrible friends to avoid his problems, you won't believe what happens next!!! (emotional) (Mazey said WHAT to him??)

[logicheartsoul]

First Appearance of Sam Wilson (Captain America) in Avengers: Quantum Encounter

[savventeen]

to build a home

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader rating: T (for swearing) wc: 3.7k summary: on the train ride back to meet jihoon's parents in person for the first time, you realize you don't really know what it's like to have a childhood home — at least, not in the sense that most people seem to have. but it's okay, because you've found a home in jihoon instead. warnings: talks about divorce (reader's parents) tags: fluff, this is so sappy guys, kind of emotional hurt/comfort, soonhoon best frienemies (they’re ride or die dw their friendship is just based on mutual teasing lol), vaguely implied asexual reader, a truly excessive amount of handholding, i really made jihoon into a hand-holding fiend and i'm Not Sorry a/n: this might be one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written since reader's experiences are 100% based off of my own lmao. also i can't believe i wrote almost 4k of them just talking on a train, like??? wow. also also, i listened to sleeping at last's cover of i'm gonna be (500 miles) on repeat while writing so i recommend giving it a listen for the Vibes haha

Jihoon was nervous.

Not in a bad way, of course. But he was taking you back home to stay with his parents for the next four days and they would be meeting you in person for the first time and he was nervous.

Soonyoung, the bastard, could definitely tell and had made it his mission to embarrass the hell out of him until the last possible second.

It was only supposed to be Seungcheol and Minghao dropping the two of you off at the train station, but Soonyoung had physically crammed himself into the backseat between you and Jihoon and refused to let go of either of you until you’d reached the train station. Even then, you had to physically pry him off of Jihoon and promise to tell Jihoon’s parents that Soonyoung loved them and missed them and—

“—make sure to take lots of pictures of all his cringey old anime posters!”

Soonyoung’s insistence is only diminished by the effort he’s exerting not to be forcefully dragged back into the car by a disgruntled Minghao. Jihoon knows Soonyoung’s being even more of a handful for his sake, and Jihoon is both filled with love and also the desire to strangle his best friend with his bare hands.

Minghao is able to get him mostly back in the car, Seungcheol watching on with a slightly fond but mostly concerned smile, but before they can get the door closed, Soonyoung claws his way back to the doorframe to tell you, “Also, his mom keeps all of his baby pictures in a bunch of photo books by the—”

“And that’s enough from you,” Jihoon interrupts, forcefully shoving Soonyoung back into the car by the face, Soonyoung screeching with poorly disguised glee, and slams the car door shut.

Jihoon waves at Seungcheol who he can see laughing through the glass as he pulls away from the curb, leaving the two of you standing with your suitcases.

He hears you giggling, and turns around to face you with a sigh. “Ignore him.”

You give a thoughtful hum, drawing it out as you grab the handle of your suitcase and wait for Jihoon to grab his and start walking with you through the station.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you finally decide, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Jihoon groans, tilting his head back as if to ask the universe why me?

“Why,” you continue, “embarrassed about your Nami posters?” 

Like Soonyoung, Jihoon knows you’re just teasing, and he falls into your easy banter with a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth.

He glares at you half-heartedly. “It’s poster, singular. And no, I’m not embarrassed,” he adds as you both make your way across the platform and into the closest empty train car (the only benefit of leaving at the ass-crack of dawn). “Why would I ever be embarrassed about Nami? She’s badass.” He grunts as he stands on his toes and lifts his luggage to store on the overhead rack and then reaches out to take yours as well. “Plus, you’re one to talk, with your weird shrimp god poster—“

And this argument is familiar, too. He can’t help but smirk as you roll your eyes in exasperation and slide into the seat next to the window.

“It’s shrimp heaven,” you exclaim, “we’ve been over this.”

Jihoon just shakes his head, and he knows he sounds more than a little besotted when he says, “You listen to the weirdest shit.”

You give him a Look that manages to be both deadpan and undeniably fond, and no one except a few untitled projects saved on his external hard drive knows exactly how much he adores that particular look. “I am aware, yes, thank you.”

While this is the first time the two of you are traveling back to where Jihoon grew up, it is not the first time the two of you have traveled together. There’s a well-worn ease to the way your shoulders draw together like magnets, Jihoon offering up one of his earbuds as he balances his iPad across your joined knees.

It had scared him, the first time he felt himself leaning into your presence without a second thought — as easy and unthinkingly familiar as pulling on his favorite hoodie when he’s cold or the sound of his keys clinking against the countertop every night when he gets home. He’d never been one to seek out physical affection before, not unless he was desperate. But now he can’t help but feel like a flower seeking out the sun whenever he’s with you.

He leans his head against yours as he asks, “Want to watch some Bonobono?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a happy hum.

Jihoon presses play without further ado, and the two of you settle in for the next few hours.

You get through a few episodes quickly before taking a quick snack break, and it’s only a few minutes into the next episode that Jihoon notices you aren’t really paying attention. He turns his head where it's resting on your shoulder to get a better look at your profile, but he’s not able to see much since you have your own head turned to look out the window.

He finishes the episode and gets halfway through the next one, glancing over at you every few minutes, before deciding it’s time for him to check in.

Starting conversations is still not one of his strong suits, but he’s discovered interesting ways to wiggle himself into them, mainly by tricking you into getting the ball rolling for him. It’s in these moments that he channels his inner Soonyoung (he is taking this train of thought to his grave, mind you) and asks himself “How would cat-me ask for attention in this moment?” (Again, taking this train of thought to the fucking grave.)

So Jihoon leans away from you just enough for him to be able to turn slightly in his seat and gently plonk his head against your shoulder. When he gets no reaction, he does it again. And again, before doing it one more time as your turn to look at him with an amused smile. “Hi? You having fun, there?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the “p”. “The funnest.”

You snort and shake your head at him. “Okay, babe.” You turn your attention back out the window and Jihoon frowns.

With a quiet huff, he plonks his head on your shoulder once again, pushing in with his forehead and rubbing it back and forth against your sweater.

You start giggling — and god, it’s still one of his favorite sounds, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing it — and you turn to look at him again with a single eyebrow raised. “Yes, Jihoonie?”

He moves so his temple is resting on your shoulder and he can look at you properly. “You okay?” he asks, lighthearted and warm. “You’ve been staring out the window for a while, missed the last couple of episodes.”

You blink, a little surprised, and look down at the iPad still balanced between the two of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” You give him a smile and shrug the shoulder he’s leaning on. “Just thinking.”

The automatic retort of “oh, dangerous” is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back with a small frown. He’s never liked when you apologize unnecessarily, but he knows it’s something you’ve been working on, so he decides not to bring attention to it this time.

“What about?” he asks instead.

You’ve turned your attention back to Bonobono at this point, and you respond with a distracted “Hm?”

Jihoon pokes your temple with one finger. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Oh.” You look at him, considering, and then you huff out a short laugh as you reach over to pause the video. “You actually,” you tell him, tucking the iPad into your lap as you turn in your seat to face him fully.

That was not what Jihoon was expecting. “Me?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the “p” just like he did earlier. “Your bedroom, more specifically.”

That was definitely not what Jihoon was expecting. Both of his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “My bedroom…” he trails off, voice dry and seeming to ask, are you really implying what I think you’re implying?

Your expression morphs into one of disgust so quickly Jihoon barks out a startled laugh. “Ew, no, don’t look at me like that, that’s not what I meant.”

Jihoon lets out a few of his own giggles as he asks, “What did you mean, then?”

He almost coos at the adorable way you pout as you cross your arms in faux anger. “Ugh, no I’m not telling you anymore if you’re just gonna tease me.”

“Aw come on,” he cajoles, reaching out to pry your crossed arms apart. “I only tease those who deserve it.”

You roll your eyes even as you let him pull your hands into his own. “Tell that to Soonyoung.”

“Are you kidding? He deserves it just for existing.”

You lift one of your conjoined hands to awkwardly point at him. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

Jihoon narrows his eyes. “Good. He needs the reminder.”

You fold over as you snort, falling into Jihoon’s space for a moment before you straighten back up with a beaming smile. “You’re such a terrible friend, Lee Jihoon.”

Closing his eyes, he nods solemnly. “I am aware of this, yes. It is my curse.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making him smack himself in the shoulder with your still joined hands. “You can be such a dramatic little shit sometimes.” There’s a glint in your eyes that tells Jihoon you’re about to say something purely because you know it’ll rile him up, and he’s proven right when the next words out of your mouth are, “Soonyoung must be rubbing off on you.”

Jihoon’s jaw drops in offended horror. “You’d better take that back right now, I swear to god, y/n—” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he untangles your fingers and digs them mercilessly into your sides.

You squeal at the onslaught and try your best to deflect, but Jihoon’s relentless and you’ve always been extremely ticklish, so it’s only a few moments later that you’re choking out through strained laughter, “Yield! Yield! Fuck, I yield, you absolute ass!”

Jihoon glares at you as he stops and generously lets you trap his fingers in your hold. “Take it back.”

“Yes, I take it back, geez,” you pant. He’s pretty sure he hears you follow it up with a near silent “Why are both of you so insane?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What was that?” He wiggles his fingers pointedly.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, glaring at him half-heartedly before rolling your eyes. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Good,” he smirks, wiggling his fingers again, but this time so he can lace them once again with yours. He brings each of your hands up to his face and kisses your knuckles before bringing them back down to his lap and letting himself drink you in.

You’re looking at him with something teetering the edge between incredulous and fond and over-the-moon, and Jihoon thinks he probably looks like a smitten fool just based on the way his cheeks ache and his ears feel like they’re on fire.

He’s come to love moments like these, where the both of you take a moment to just… take each other in — to simply exist in each other’s presence and soak it all in like sponges. And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put into words exactly what it feels like to look and be looked at like this. To see and be seen.

Jihoon doesn’t try to find the words this time, just lets himself bask in your glow with a soft smile.

After a few moments, he brings himself to break the ambient quiet of the train. “Hey,” he murmurs.

Your response is as soft and quiet as the smile you tuck into the corner of your mouth. “Hi.”

He stares at you for another moment before saying, “You never ended up telling me, y’know.”

“Telling you what?”

“What you were thinking about earlier.” He starts idly rubbing his thumbs across the skin of your hands, tracing gentle arcs with the pads of his thumbs.

“Oh.” You scrunch up your face a little before smoothing it out with a small shrug. “Eh, it wasn’t anything important.”

“Hmm.” Something tells him it probably is something important — to you, at least. And even if it isn’t, he still wants to know. “Tell me anyway?”

You tilt your head and look at him with a confused sort of amused smile. “Why do you wanna know so bad?”

Because I’m highkey obsessed with you and always want to learn more about you and how you think, is what he doesn’t say. At least, not out loud and not right now. He knows it’d probably fluster you and he doesn’t want to distract you from answering any more than he already has. (And maybe he’s still struggling with saying his sappy thoughts directly to your face instead of hoarding them in various notebooks, but that’s a problem for future Jihoon to work through.)

“Just curious,” he murmurs with a shrug. “And we still have a couple of hours left on the train.”

You stare at him for a moment like you don’t quite believe him and are trying to find the lie somewhere on his face. But eventually you mutter, “Okay.” You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose. “Well,” you start, after a moment of collecting your thoughts. “I said I was thinking about your bedroom, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, so.” You purse your lips as you tighten your hold on Jihoon’s fingers, just for a moment, before loosening your grip with a quiet exhale. “I was mostly just trying to imagine what that’s like.”

Jihoon blinks at you. “...What having a bedroom is like?” His tone comes across more deadpan than he means, confusion flattening his question into more of a statement.

“No, no,” you shake your head. “What having a childhood bedroom is like.”

Jihoon blinks again, furrowing his brows. “...I don’t understand.”

“God, I’m not explaining this right,” you mutter, chewing on your lip in obvious thought. “Okay, so like… You know how in movies and books and stuff, a lot of times there’s this— trope, I guess, where a character goes back home and stays in their childhood bedroom and it’s like a glimpse into their past? A lot of times for comedic reasons?”

Jihoon slowly nods his head. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well.” You give a self-conscious little half-shrug that makes Jihoon’s chest hurt for some reason. “I was wondering what that’s like. Like…” You trail off for a moment, gaze drifting off to the side and focusing on the middle-distance. Jihoon forces himself to wait patiently as you try to find the words you need to explain, his thumbs continuing their silent metronome across your skin.

“What— what’s it like to have lived your entire childhood in the same house?” you start, gaze still locked somewhere off to the side. “To have the same four walls watch you go from toddler to kid to preteen to moody teenager and then reluctant adult? And to know those same walls are still watching you grow up.” You give a wistful little sigh and focus back on Jihoon with a crooked smile. “I’m trying to imagine what that’s like. Hadn’t realized how much of a foreign concept it was to me until I really started thinking about it,” you finish with a small huff.

During your whole little spiel, you hadn’t sounded sad or bitter or anything other than genuinely curious, but it still pokes at that little ache in Jihoon’s heart. He knows your parents divorced when you were young, and there’s a part of him that wishes you could have had the perfect childhood he knows doesn’t actually exist. He also knows you’re not one to really talk about yourself or your past, so he’s grateful for the vulnerability you’re sharing with him in this moment. Softly, he encourages you to share more with him. “You went back and forth between your parents a lot, right?”

“Oh, god yeah,” you laugh. “And not only that, but my mom could never stay in one place either. Growing up, I think my dad only moved like… four times? But my mom moved… uh.” Your brows furrow deeply for a moment. “Hang on, I need to think this out.”

Jihoon almost whines when you detangle your fingers from his, but manages to turn it into a pretty convincing cough. (It’s actually not at all convincing, but luckily you’re too preoccupied to properly clown him for it.) He watches you mutter to yourself with a small pout and then he looks back down at your hands like he can make them hold his if he just stares hard enough. Your fingers extend one by one as you count, and his pout falls away as one fist and then the other blooms fully. And then one fist closes again, leaving a single finger standing.

“So… eleven? Eleven times.”

He’d known you’d moved at least a few times as a kid, but… “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

Gently, he reaches out to hold your hands again. Squeezes. “And how often did you go back and forth?”

“Oh, god. That was a mess, too.” You’re laughing, but that ache in his chest keeps spreading, digging deeper. “We had different schedules that would change like— every few months. We did three days on, three days off, alternating sundays; we did two days on, two days off, with alternating weekends; at one point we even did every other weekday with alternating weekends… it was insane. Looking back, it seems even more insane.”

“Jesus.” He can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like — almost constantly being on the move. Especially as a kid. “How old were you when they split again?”

“Five.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, long and gusty. It doesn’t sound sad, at least, just tired. Maybe a little bit like release. Then you send a small, amused smile in his direction. “So you can kinda see why the whole “childhood bedroom” thing is such a foreign concept to me, right?”

He can see why. And it aches. “Yeah,” he breathes.

Some of that ache must show on his face because you gently scold him, “Hey, don’t look like that.” You untangle your fingers once again to cup both of his cheeks, thumbs pressing into the corners of his mouth and smoothing out his unconscious frown.

You look at him, soft and warm and so full of love Jihoon’s breath catches in his chest. And then you adjust your grip so you’re pinching his cheeks, and you wiggle his face a little bit. “This wasn’t supposed to be a sad thing, Hoonie. Just a “we had vastly different experiences” kind of thing.” You stop pinching his cheeks and go back to simply holding his face between your palms. “Like, I know it helped me understand the concept of “home is where the heart is,” yanno?”

And, oh. Oh, Jihoon is so very head-over-heels in love with you. He can feel that love pooling and swelling inside him, curling up between his ribs and tickling the tips of his fingers as reaches up to cover your hands with his.

“Hmm.” His mouth moves before his brain can catch up. “And where is your heart, y/n?” he breathes.

For one infinite moment suspended in time, you and Jihoon are the only two people to exist. The world around him disappears as your eyes bore into his, and Jihoon gets to watch something in them soften, melt — pool into something that looks a lot like love as you turn your hands to let go of his cheeks and hold his fingers instead.

You bring his hands to hover in front of his face, and you roll your lips between your teeth like you’re trying to hold back a smile. What you’re trying to say finally clicks in Jihoon’s mind when you glance down at his hands and then back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

All of the blood in his body rushes directly to his face and ears so quickly that Jihoon thinks he might burst into flames.

 “Nooooooooo,” he whines, hiding his blazing blush behind your entwined hands and ignoring the way you’re outright laughing at him now. He lowers your hands just enough so that he can glare at you from over the tops of your knuckles. “How are you able to say the cheesiest things without actually saying anything? I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit,” you giggle, like the absolutely adorable little shit you are.

Jihoon growls in frustrated adoration before licking the back of your hands in retaliation.

You screech and try to yank your hands back, but he’s the stronger one between the two of you and he refuses to let go. “Lee Jihoon, you animal, what is wrong with you?!”

“Vengence,” is all he mutters.

You splutter. “Vengence for what?”

He continues to half-heartedly glare at you as he brings your hands down and presses them to the left side of his chest. Vaguely, he wonders if you can feel the way his heart is pounding against his ribs. “For stealing my heart,” he pouts.

The sound that comes out of your mouth reminds him of a dying seal, and that’s how Jihoon knows it’s over for him — because he’s never heard a more endearing sound in his entire life and he thinks that maybe he’d do anything to hear it over and over again.

You continue to tease each other back and forth, your love for each other a steady undertow, and Jihoon realizes that while they may be heading back to the house he grew up in, it’s not home in the same sense any more.

Not when he looks at you and his heart sings a steady home, home, home inside his chest.

The thought doesn’t scare him nearly as much as he thinks it should.

Home, home, home.

He likes the sound of that.

[muzzlemouths]

let your heart be light

December is a hard month and you're being worked to the bone. Good thing you have two sentient animatronics waiting at home to do the unthinkable - give you a very merry Christmas.

Sun/Moon centric // Wordcount: 4582 // AO3 Link

“Three cups of flour?”

“Check!”

“A teaspoon of baking powder?”

“Got it!”

“Salt?”

“Only a pinch!”

“A cup of sugar? One egg?” You fold the old recipe between your fingers, “What about–”

“The butter? A full cup, unsalted. The other things too!” Sun sets a flour-coated palm on your head, dusting it with white, “It’s all there, sweetheart. I haven’t missed a thing.” His fingers smooth over your scalp and bring some ease to your temples, this month already wearing you thin, he offers you a calming smile in your great time of distress, “I’ve got everything taken care of, already, so you needn’t fuss for a moment longer. Moon and I can handle things on our own.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” your breath passes between clenched teeth, a grimace falling into place, but Sun’s shoulders fall - you don’t outright say you don’t trust them, but you might as well have - and you’re quickly backpaddling to make up for it, “you know I’m just nervous,” you admit with another sigh, forcing a smile that does, eventually, turn genuine, “But I’m probably worrying over nothing. We’ve gone over this a hundred times, right?” You carefully take his hand away and instead tuck it between your own, holding it tight, “You’ve got this.”

His posture relaxes, eyes softening, “We’ve got this,” he repeats with a nod, “I promise you can count on us. Now, how about that recipe?”

“Oh, right,” you hand over the folded square with a certain wariness, “don’t forget to preheat the oven first, okay? And the air will be hot when you first open it, so make sure you aren’t standing too close–”

“Sunshine,”

“–right, okay. Sorry. You’ve got this!” You spot the time from across the room and mutter a bit, “Fuck, I should have been out of here ten minutes ago.” Spinning around like a dog after its own tail, you frantically dig into both coat pockets and come up empty.

Sun raises your keys by the ring with a silent grin, “Language,” he reminds you all too smugly, “try not to lose your head on the way, love.”

You sheepishly swipe the keys from him and jam them into your pocket - where they promptly fall straight through to the floor from a hole in the fabric with an eruption of metal tings. “Ugh, I keep forgetting about that.”

You bend at the waist and reach for them. Sun gets there first, and your hands collide, faces dangerously close.

But Sun knows you’re in a hurry. He begrudgingly keeps his hands to himself, instead retrieving the keys and handing them back over to you with a little peck on your temple and a flourish, “I’m surprised you don’t lose things more often with a coat so full of holes,” he muses, “you’re sure we can’t patch it up for you?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” the keys fall into your other pocket with a whisper, “This is the only one I’ve got, can’t afford to let you have it for that long. Maybe sometime in the spring you can take a wack at what’s left.” Eyes finding the clock again, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you steel yourself for the day, “Okay, I really have to go now.”

Sun ushers you out the door with a wave of his hands, “Off you go, then!” He blows you a big, wet kiss. You catch it at the door.

“Okay, um,” Nodding to yourself, you take in the kitchen one last time, committing it to memory in case you return to it looking like something else, “I’ll be back around eight.” Your voice lightens, “Tell Moon I said goodbye!”

He nods, big and eager, and shuts the door behind you.

Then you’re off the porch, heading for what is thankfully your last shift of the week, leaving the two behind with a working oven and absolutely no supervision.

And that’s fine. There’s nothing to stress over. You act completely normal about it the entire day, not worrying at all.

Not even when you receive a suspicious text from Sun immediately after getting to work.

“Do we have lights?”

Your face scrunches as you read the message over again, attempting to determine what he means, when a second text comes in.

“The little kind with all the colors.” Oh.

You settle into a chair behind the desk and write back, “Christmas lights? I might have some shoved in a bin somewhere in the garage.” Then, thinking better of it, you send a second message with it, “I don’t mind if we put them up but I don’t think I have time to do it tonight. Can it wait for tomorrow?”

More than anything, his lack of a response is what scares you most. Silence for ten minutes, then an hour, then four hours. It weighs on you for the entire shift and more than once you have to stop yourself from running to the bathroom so you can sneak in a phone call. That would prove you didn’t trust them - and you don’t want to imply that any more than you already had this morning.

It didn’t mean you weren’t completely riddled with anxiety by the time your shift ended and you found your way home again, half expecting to follow a plume of smoke to your address.

To your utmost relief, there’s no smoke and not even the smell of overbaked cookies to welcome you home. Surprisingly, there’s no lights, either. You had been sure that Sun would have taken matters into his own hands by now, but it appears that, for once, he decided to listen.

Your keys slide into the lock and the handle turns. You brace yourself for the worst, just in case.

“Guys, I’m home!” Pushing your way inside, you instinctively reach for the lightswitch - but stop dead. There’s no need for it.

The inside of your house looks like a Macy’s parade. Lights of every color hang over picture frames and wind around furniture, bringing a dazzling shimmer to the walls, and a shine to the floors, the rooms transformed into something magical.

“You’re home!” Sun peels around the hallway corner with a short string of lights entangled in his own rays, “Is it eight already? I only just finished setting everything up.”

You cross the room, taking in the sights with a wide open gape, “Did you do all of this?” You gasp, “I didn’t even know I owned this many.”

“Do you like it?” He sounds positively giddy and more than a little proud of himself. “I spent all day on it. Wanted to make sure you came home to something nice.”

A smile crosses your lips, “It’s beautiful,” you tell him, “though I’m a little confused - why did you string them up inside?” Your finger points to the door, “Christmas lights normally go on the outside of the house.”

“On the…outside?” Sun’s thumbs twiddle together, smile faltering, “O-Oh, well, seems my quick internet search could have been more thorough. We can take them down–”

“No!” Your hands fly to reassure him, “I like it this way. It feels…closer. More homey.” You empty your keys onto the kitchen counter while shaking the shoes from your feet into their usual corner, and then take a whiff of the air, suddenly growing suspicious, “Huh. I thought the house would smell like cookies when I got back.”

“Ah…” Sun trails off before he even begins, pointer fingers now pressing together in his thumb’s stead, “About that… I never actually got around to making them.”

“What? Why not?”

“I told you, I’ve been doing this–” he gestures all around, “–all day! B-Besides, this way we can decorate them together!””

Your coat is tossed onto the nearest chair. “What about Moon?” You ask, “Couldn’t he have baked them?”

“Moon’s been busy, too.”

“With?”

Sun’s head lolls to the right with a little sideways smile, excitement building in the jittery line down his arms until he can barely contain it, “Well, it’s a little too bright out here for his liking, you know.” He straightens, then, and gestures for you to follow him down the hall, “Come on, I’ll just show you.”

Following him further into your house, the sight that greets you is something a little less traditional than Sun’s attempt at holiday cheer, but still cozy, nonetheless. The very description of the word, in fact.

There is a pillow fort in your livingroom.

A colossal structure, it spans the entire size of the room, reaching half of Sun’s height - and most of yours - and presumably uses every feasibly available blanket and pillow in your entire house.

Curiously, there’s an extension cord leading from the bathroom and tucked between two of your kitchen chairs with a blanket overlapping them. You can’t imagine that Moon would have the same extensive number of lights inside this humble abode, but the idea of him using electricity in there for anything else is beyond you.

Sun bends to reach the ‘door’ and gives it a few hearty taps, the usual sound of a knock lost against the swaths of blanket, “Moon, dear, they’re home!” He calls out, “May we come in?”

“Not yet.” Comes the immediate answer, muffled from inside. He doesn’t bother to grace you with his presence.

Of course, Sun’s face twists at this with a roll of his eyes and a scold just on the brink of escaping, “Come, now, it’s rude to keep us waiting.” His eyes meet you, that gentle smile seeping in beneath his eyes, “He hasn’t even let me inside yet, you know, so this’ll be a surprise for both of us.” Returning his attention to the door again, he gives the blanket a more sturdy knock, and says, “I’m coming in whether you like it or not!”

A minute later, Moon appears at the mouth of the fort. His red optic peers, narrow eyed, through the crack he’s formed by pulling the door aside, “Impatient.” He scolds with a tsk, “Fine, I’m done.” The blanket returns to its place a minute later as Moon recoils into his fort and out of sight. “Don’t get your rays caught on the top.”

The two of you share a look. A laugh bubbles from your throat and catches him off guard, but then Sun is laughing, too, and retracting a couple of his rays in an honest bid to do as Moon asked. He bunches the door away and politely gestures for you to enter first, and you do, tucking yourself at the shoulders before making your way inside with Sun on your tail. The door falls back into place behind him.

Your feet meet carpet - or, rather, a solid pair of blankets acting as such - which soften the floor and keep things cozy. Pillows border the sides with a few being scattered on top of more loose blankets, and a number of your stuffed animals have even made their way inside.

Over your head, lights cling to the ceiling blanket in clean lines of sparkling blue. Paper stars and snowflakes hang in between with the evidence of their creation - a pile of scraps and a pair of scissors - still bunched in his corner of the fort. "Try not to be too impressed," Moon smirks over his shoulder. But his attention is elsewhere, hunched over something that you can't see until you're climbed over to his side. "Wait, is that my laptop?" "No," says Moon, readjusting your laptop, "just let me finish this." "Ohh, did you get it working?" Sun, bowed at the head to properly fit, claps his hands together with excitement, “I sent you the link to my favorite one.” A minute later your screen comes to life with a weak crackle - not your failing battery, for once, but the specific crack of old, burning wood - the image of a cozy fireplace coming into view a moment later.

Your shoulders bounce with a snicker, “That’s clever,” you tell him, “but–” your smile dims as you look at the two, “are you sure? It’s pretty and all, but I don’t want something like this to make you uncomfortable - what with the, um,” you gesture towards the screen, “with the fire, and all that.”

Sun gets himself settled into a cozier position and Moon follows soon after, Sun with his legs crisscrossed, hands in his lap, and Moon slumped lazily against a mound of pillows with one of your blankets tossed haphazardly around his shoulders.

They share a look, but it’s Sun who speaks up first.

“We’re sure, sunbite,” he reassures, “Moon and I talked it out beforehand. It’s not so scary like this - being just a screen - and if it becomes too much we can always turn it off.”

“Besides,” Moon cuts in with a lazy hand wave, “We’re not doing it just for you. Sun wanted to try out the traditions and this just happened to be one of them.”

“Hey! Don’t give all of my secrets away.”

You blink, all the puzzle pieces clicking into place, “Wait, is that why you were asking about the lights?”

Sun gives you a hearty nod, “Righto!”

“And the snowflakes, too? Does that mean you have–”

“Presents?” Moon finishes for you.

“That’s right!” Sun answers.

They exchange a grin with each other. “It was Sun’s idea,” Moon admits.

“But I only thought of it this morning, after you left for work–”

“We were a little pressed for time.”

“So don’t expect anything big!” Sun winks at you and shifts onto his knees, then half-walks, half-crawls past where you’re sitting, “I’ll go and get them,” he squeals, giddy like – well, like a kid on Christmas — “Moon, can you get the music?”

“I thought we agreed you would do that?” he grumbles.

“Well, now I’m getting the presents, so you’ll have to put Mr. Pout away and find Mr. Happy Holiday Cheer, instead.”

Your hands fly up, “Wait, wait,” Sun disappears out of the fort a minute later, so your attention turns to Moon, who’s already (begrudgingly) fiddling with something in his system, “It’s sweet that you two got me presents - I mean, it really wasn’t necessary, you know that, right?”

“Sun insisted.” Moon shrugs.

“I’ll thank him for it later, however” you pause, attempting to go about this question delicately, “how, exactly, did you get me a gift? I’ve been stuck at work all day.”

Moon doesn’t answer immediately. He avoids your eye and tucks the blanket closer to his shoulders as a way to fill the silence, knowing you’ll figure it out on your own if he only gives you a minute. And you do. It takes thirty-two seconds for it to dawn on you.

“You–” Gasping, your eyebrows scrunch together, “you snuck out, didn’t you? What did I tell you two about leaving the house on your own?” Your exasperation is justified, you think - it would take all of a minute for a company like Fazbears to retrieve their state of the art equipment if they were spotted out in the wild.

“Don’t lecture us,” Moon rolls his eyes, “He wore a disguise the whole time and was only gone for half an hour. Popped into a convenience store and was back here before anyone noticed a thing out of place.”

“He– ” The strain in your voice goes from annoyance to straight panic and you clutch at your head, eyes wide with disbelief, “He went alone?”

Sun’s head pokes through the entrance a second later. “I took the time to get those cookies in the oven, so they’ll be done in just a few minutes now!”

There’s presumably only one gift in his hand; a medium sized box, wrapped in blue christmas paper and folded neatly at the corners, the bow on top small but beautifully pearlescent. His smile disappears (along with his rays - sucked in the second he lays eyes on you) when he enters the fort to the sight of your eyebrow twitching. Immediately, he turns on the other, “Ah, shnookerdookies, Moon! You weren’t supposed to tell them I snuck out!”

“I didn’t,” Moon answers somewhat honestly, hands up in a show of peace, “and they would have found out eventually.”

You exhale with a pinch to the bridge of your nose, wishing and hoping - praying, at this point - that the two of them would stop giving you heart attacks on the daily. “Sun, what would make you think it was a good idea to sneak out? And beyond that - to do it alone!”

“Well… I really wanted to get you something.” Sun again sits down across from you and begins to tap - the pointer finger on both hands - against the wrapped box in his lap, a pingpong of sound from one finger to the other. You learned not too long ago that it’s calculated, this nervous habit of his, not just brainless noise. Less of a need to fill the silence and more of a way to get his feelings out without the exposure - like swearing in a language the listener couldn’t understand.

You could understand it, was the thing - had been extensively training yourself to, actually, not that you’d had a chance to tell them yet - and you count out the zeros and ones he imitates with each tap like you’re lipreading.

“And,” he continues, “I didn’t know how to ask you for a drive to the store without telling you why.” 1100111 1110101 1101001 1101100 1110100 1111001 “I didn’t go far though, pinky swear!”

Your shoulders deflate some as the letters count themselves out. Sighing, you try not to sound too angry with him. Because you’re not - angry, that is - you’re just scared.

These boys meant the world to you. It would be crushing if you lost them over something as trivial as a present. It’s obvious, however, that Sun doesn’t view it that way. The present is important to him. And he is incredibly important to you. So that meant, of course, that you would be lenient.

“Why didn’t Moon go with you?” You gesture for him. Moon is back to cutting stars out of paper, and he barely spares a glance towards the conversation.

Sun’s rays droop with a more dramatic flavor this time, and when he speaks it’s with a whine, “He already had a gift ready for you,” - this, of course, has Moon freezing in place - “but I wanted to get you something, too!” 1101110 1100101 1110010 1110110 1101111 1110101 1110011 ”I think you’ll really like it. I - I hope you do, at least. But it’s okay if you don’t!“

His behavior - that is, the heat on his cheeks and subtle spin of his rays - leads you to believe it’s not something easy or practical.

You could take a deep dive on what all that suggested, but right now your focus is glued to Moon, who is practically hidden behind his knees with how far he’s slumped into the pillows. A wolfish smile crosses your face. “Moon, you had a present for me this whole time?” You coo, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shoots Sun a glower - it’s received with a knowing smirk, taps falling silent - and he tosses a paper star into your lap, “Don’t get a big head about it,” Moon huffs, “I made it in my spare time. It just so happens that I finished it this month.”

“Wait,” your expression turns from smug to soft in an instant, “you made it?”

His eyes grow like saucers and he freezes, attempting to backpaddle, “It’s not important,” he’s quick to say, looking back to Sun, “Why don’t we talk about Sun’s present instead?”

Snorting, his counterpart shakes his head with an all too warm smile, “Ohhh, no, buddy, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about my present afterwards. Why don’t we have them open yours first?”

A noise crackles from Moon’s chestplate - static, then a melody, the lyrics to ‘You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch’ tuning in soon after - all three heads turn to look in its direction. Evidently, his music has decided to interject at the funniest possible time.

You roar with laughter - Sun loses himself in a fit of giggles, too, and it isn’t long before Moon is joining in with an undeniable snicker. It feels a little ridiculous. Here you are on Christmas eve, in a pillow fort of all things, laughing under blinking lights as these two rile each other up. “Okay, enough teasing,” you say through the laughter, “hand over the present already. I’ll open that one first.”

Sun gently slides it across to you, still lost in his laughter but clearly excited for this moment to happen. Moon, on the other hand, has already returned to silence and looks ready to bury himself beneath a pile of blankets.

Plucking away the bow, you gingerly pull apart the wrapping paper and then spring the box’s lid open with a vocal pop. Your hand digs through a mountain of tissue paper before finding the treasure hidden inside and drawing it into the light.

It unfolds piece by piece to reveal a granny square sweater - knitted by hand - each square a different color on an expanse of dark blue. The yarn is soft between your fingers, its weight comforting. Your arms fall only enough to look at him behind the gift. “You…you really made this?”

Moon won’t look at you, but you can see the color spreading across his cheeks from here. He rests his chin into the palm of his hand and decisively looks anywhere but in your direction. “Maybe.” he grunts, “You can toss it out if you don’t–”

“No!” You clutch the item close to your chest, flattening it against your heart, “It’s beautiful, Moon.” Already, you’re swinging it over your shoulders and slipping your arms into the sleeves, “I love it, I really do. I can’t believe you would go out of your way to–”

“Just in my spare time,” Moon remains you - at least now, he’s looking your way again.

“Right,” you smile, “Well, either way, I’m really grateful.”

He shifts, looking briefly unsure, then a small grin sneaks into his expression, “Your old one’s gone to shit,” he says, “It hardly keeps you warm anymore. So - maybe you’ll finally be able to toss it out.”

Nodding, your smile only widens, “I’ll be sad to see it go, but you’re right. Besides,” you give yourself a squeeze, feeling the warmth of the yarn hug back, “I think this one will be a wonderful replacement.”

His eyes soften, smile warming, and he makes a noise like there’s more to be said but then falls silent eyes suddenly shifting to the other side of the room. The fond look on his face turns into a sneer. “Your turn.” he coos at Sun, who - for all intents and purposes - looks twice as nervous now.

“A-Already?” He asks, fumbling over himself, “Maybe we could wait until after the cookies–”

Your hand reaches for him, fingers winding between his own, “Sunny, I’m going to love it no matter what,” you assure him, “I promise. Now, let’s see that gift!”

Sun lets out a whiiiiiiine, long and procrastinating, then finally he relents. His spare hand dips into the pocket of his apron (still caked with flour, mind you) and draws from it a small plastic bag with santa and his reindeer printed across the front. “They said paper wrapping might damage it,” he sighs, “but they gave me the bag for free! It’s–” His fingers pinch together beneath the bag handles, eyes flickering between his knees and you, “–well, I just hope you like it.”

“I told you already, didn’t I?” You take the bag and settle it into your lap, one hand to steady it while the other dips inside. It’s featherlight - and you think, for a moment, that maybe it’s a practical joke and he’s wrapped up air - but then you feel it. “I’m going to love anything you give m–” Leaves. A ribbon.

You pull mistletoe from the bag.

Looking up with a start, you find both of them looking in opposite directions, “I–”

“We don’t have to do anything with it,” Swiftly, Sun assures you, “We can just throw it in the trash! I – we will understand.”

Your heart thunders like a persistent drum against your chest, all at once, your cheeks and all the way up to your ears feel flush with heat, and your hand curls sweetly around the small plant in response, “I was just going to say,” their eyes snap to meet you, looking hopeful and worried at the same time, “that if you wanted a kiss that bad you could have just asked for one.”

There’s a pause, a moment of quiet where you’re sure their systems are buffering. Then, suddenly, Sun leaps from his seat and practically scrambles over your crossed legs, swiping the mistletoe in a heartbeat, it’s barely above your heads before he melts against your lips.

You fold under his warmth and give into it, tasting sugar. Sun pulls away only to crane his neck in another direction and plant a kiss there, too - the space beside your mouth, then another to your cheek, and another, still, at your jawline, touches that pepper down your throat with unyielding fondness until you are quite literally swept away –

into the arms of Moon, who sits where you were a minute ago and tucks you into his lap, arms wrapping around yours, he makes an impatient noise against your ear before dipping his head low and going about your skin himself - a kiss to the cheek and the cusp of your ear, one to your temple - then he wraps a firm hand beneath your chin and tilts it to meet him, discovering the warmth of your lips.

Sun’s hands replace his a minute later, the warmth in them drawing you out of the haze they’ve caused, he’s already closed the distance and shows no intention of stopping.

“Guys–” you gasp, breathless, finding yourself pulled back into soft laughter, you feel paper-light and happier than any holiday card could ever make you feel, “Hey, st– come on,” another laugh escapes you, “you can’t tag-team me like this, that’s not fair–”

But Sun finds the space beneath your chin and Moon dips himself against the back of your neck, embracing you in perfect tandem, and the sensation lights you up like a christmas tree. Engulfed in endearment, every kiss, every eager caress sends a warm shiver down your spine.

Then an alarm blares from outside the fort - the screech of an oven - and Sun shoots up so fast his ray nearly rips a hole in the ceiling. “The cookies!” He scurries from the fort with a shrill of panic.

Moon’s own enthusiasm doesn’t come to a stop all together, but he slows, allowing you a breather to the distant sounds of Sun fussing over and arguing with the oven. He gingerly tucks away the sleeve of your sweater and slips a kiss to your bare shoulder, then sets his chin against it, looking up at you with a smile. Shimmering blue lights reflect in his eyes like stars in the sky. “Having fun?” he asks.

“Very much so,” sighing somewhat wistfully, you allow your full weight to relax against him, “you’re both big saps, you know.”

“Mh,” his arms hug tighter around you, hands pressing wordlessly into yours, “Merry Christmas,“ he murmurs, ”our dearest star.“

[firstkanaphans]

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: คาธ | The Eclipse (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Akk/Ayan (The Eclipse) Additional Tags: Post-Break Up, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Magical Realism Summary:

On the fifth anniversary of their break-up, Akk makes a drunken wish for the life he and Ayan would have had if he hadn’t ruined everything. The next morning, he wakes up to find a baby—a baby with his eyes and Aye’s pendant around his neck.

[fluffypotatey]

The Shrine of Emrys: An Additional factor for Merlin's Migraines

The day began like any other which is what Merlin blames for why he felt so relaxed and not as vigilant. Maybe if he was, the warlock could have been able to convince his friends that he spied deer in the opposite direction of what will now be the reason for Merlin’s anxiety. Unfortunately, hindsight always works better after an incident occurs never before, the little fucker.

“At least it’s not a well this time,” Gwaine chimes in, interrupting the tense silence that enveloped their party the moment the shrine came into their sights.

“How does that make this one better?” Leon sighed.

“Well, none of us will feel compelled to drink it!”

In Merlin’s periphery, he saw Elyan wince, the memory of when he was possessed still haunting him. No one blames the knight though. After that whole mess, Percival and Leon made sure to keep their group’s supplies always stocked with the right amount for missions or hunting parties. They even made sure to teach their own squires how to properly ration food and water, the best places to find drinkable water, and what berries were considered safe to eat. 

Arthur moved closer to the little shrine that sat near an old oak tree. He squatted and examined how the thin rocks were piled on top of one another, how the inside of it seemed to glow (was it from magic? A trick of the light? Or maybe there were diamonds inside, Merlin couldn’t tell and Arthur didn’t say.) and how the curved roof of the shrine sprouted thick branches, harvesting some kind of fruit. Merlin watched carefully as his king looked the shrine up and down, as his lips curved into a pensive frown, as he brought his fingers to his lips, contemplating.

“What do you suppose this one’s for?” he finally asked. “This one seems…less somber.”

And it is, unless, a shrine that held sweetmeats and honeycomb inside it was one of malevolent intent. But what a strange shrine that would be. Merlin couldn’t help but ponder what kind of evil sweetmeats and honeycomb could cause. The evil of too much sugar? The evil of glorious temptation? Frankly, Merlin wouldn’t mind if he were to fall for such a temptation. In fact, these offerings almost seem to…call to him. Like they were there for him.

“Because it is less somber, sire.”

Everyone turns to Percival. The knight lets out a cough like he surprised himself with that answer, or maybe he didn’t expect everyone’s immediate attention on him. Eyes curious and surprised that he held such knowledge.

“How so, Percival?” their king asks him.

And Percival answers his king, but it’s an answer Merlin was not expecting. Honestly, he never expected such an answer to even be one Percival had previous knowledge of. 

“Because this shrine is to Emrys,” the knight says with no hesitation, “and the Druids wish to keep him pleased.”

“Emrys?”

“Who is he?”

“Will he be a threat to us?”

And so, there went Merlin’s peaceful day with nothing magic related. He wished the earth could just consume him, take him away from what’s about to transpire, but the earth stays quiet.

“No, no, Emrys is not a threat,” Percival answers, quick to reassure his friends. “Well…” the knight makes a face. “He isn’t…meant to be a threat.”

Merlin tries his best to not feel offended by such a description. It’s not like Percival knows he’s talking about the knights’ beloved manservant. Merlin shouldn’t feel the slight of betrayal as his dear friend describes him as some cryptid Fae folk. Merlin is not a part of the Fae! As far as he’s aware, anyway.

“Explain,” Arthur ordered.

So, Percival did. Percival explained to his friends all he knew about the infamous Emrys. He explained why the Druids revered him. 

(“Are we even sure this Emrys is a him?” Merlin couldn’t help but ask. Maybe if he did, then it would derail the topic and Merlin would be safe.

“I mean, that’s how the Druids refer to Emrys, but,” Percival hesitates as he considers how to answer it, “they could be wrong. Sometimes their prophecies are very vague to the point that any person could fit them, and sometimes they’re not. But Emrys has not struck them down yet, so maybe?”

And so Percival continued his tales about Emrys, with Merlin’s plan foiled.)

Merlin did note how the knight made sure to steer clear of ever explicitly mentioning the cause of the Druids’ reverence for Emrys (Uther’s Purge), but that didn’t stop Arthur from picking up on it. Percival also explained certain details Merlin wasn’t even aware of. Details like Emrys being immortal for one.

“So you mean…” Merlin bit his lip. “This Emrys can’t die?”

“Not by a mortal’s hand.”

“Ah.” He could feel his throat closing in on itself, flashes of past moments flooded his head. Past moments where Merlin felt himself cose to death or moments where others gazed at him with unbridled terror because some poison didn’t work. Merlin’s head pounds, this is too much for him to process.

Something flickered across Percival’s face. Confusion, curiosity, then something else, but his face switched to neutral before Merlin could decipher it. The knight looked back to the rest of their party as he wrapped an arm around Merlin. It almost felt like comfort. Like a reassurance. Merlin had a brief moment of panic. Did he know? Will he tell? Is this just because Percival is a very tactile person? Did he notice that Merlin was no longer feeling well?

“You said he’s born to heal the wounds of the Old Religion,” Arthur says, snapping Merlin from the downward spiral. “That he was born as the Druids’ protector and healer.”

“Not just the Druids, sire. There are more than just the Druids who practice the Old Religion.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes looking back at the shrine, but, strangely, it was like he was looking at something further away. Something only he could see. A past memory? Or maybe old words he once ignored that have new meaning to them with this context.

“If he’s here to be their avenger, why do they have to keep him pleased?” 

It was Gwaine who asked, mouth full of food. Somehow, the handsome man had found an apple whilst their friend told them all about this revered sorcerer. Probably one of the items Leon had packed for them.

(“So he’s a god?” Gwaine had asked.

“No?”

“Wait, why’d you answer that like a question?”

“It’s really complicated–”

“So they worship him.”

“Yes but—”

“They hold a festival for when his power was first felt by everyone.” This one was Elyan. Both he and Gwaine exchange a look of understanding.

“Look–”

“And they say he is the chosen champion of the Triple Goddess.”

Percival sighed at his friends as they continued on with their, admittedly well-thought out, theory. It was times like these where he missed Lancelot, who he knew would have also brought up some interesting points that would have most likely fueled the flames to his friends’ assumptions. Although, Lancelot always seemed to know more than Percival despite him being the one raised by the Druids.

“Ok, fine, he’s a new god for them”

“But what is he the god of then? Say, Elyan do you still have those scrolls on that pantheon in the Mediterra—”)

Percival winces as he prepares himself to answer Gwaine’s question. Merlin couldn’t help but frown at that reaction. The Druids don’t see him as unpredictable do they? They view him as benevolent, right? Maybe they believe him to be wrathful like Morgana? He’ll need to meet with Taliesin soon just to make sure.

“About eight years ago, someone decided to challenge Emrys. She even went as far as to harm the Once and Future King–”

“The who?”

“There’s a prophesied king?!”

“Yes, he’s called the Once and Future King, their destinies are intertwined, he is said to bring in an age of peace and unity between those with magic and without—will you let me finish!”

The knights kept their mouths shut as Percival unveiled more about this sorceress. How she was the previous Priestess of Avalon (Merlin felt himself freeze, and he silently prayed that maybe Percival meant someone else), and that after attempting to force Emrys into joining her revenge plot against Camelot, he struck her with a lightning bolt.

“–So you see, the Druids felt that they needed to make sure Emrys knew they weren’t seeking to go against him. And while he is said to be their savior, there are Seers who have cautioned that Emrys can very well be their end if pushed too far. Nimueh’s demise was proof of that.”

Their circle of knights was quiet after that. Neither spoke nor asked Percival for more clarification, everyone too deep in their thoughts. Merlin, however, was an internal screeching mess. He had no idea that his battle with Nimueh caused such a reaction from the Druids. Honestly, with how much people continued to harm Arthur and the kingdom, he didn’t think anyone would have buckled down and built him shrines because of what he did. It was both strange and comforting, like his actions were truly being seen and appreciated, but also he felt something ugly curl into his gut. They didn’t build the shrine until he hurt one of their own.

They feared him.

Merlin wanted to sigh. He’s so tired of them solely viewing him like he was the Triple Goddess incarnate. He looked back at the shrine and how its offerings laid there to appease him. To keep him on their good side. Well, Merlin always was partial to some honeycomb. It wouldn’t hurt if he just…took the offerings, show them that he does want to see a future of peace between magic users and regular humans.

It’s not like Merlin wants to go against the Druids, but if these offerings will make them believe he is pleased with them, Merlin might as well. He wonders if someone overheard him admit to liking honey. Did they ask his mother about the sweetmeats? 

“Merlin!” It’s Elyan who grabs his wrist as it was closing in on one of the berry tarts (he hoped it was raspberry). “Do you want to get smited by Emrys?!”

It took every fiber in Merlin's body to keep a straight face. It took even more to not reply with a quip outing himself.

By the Goddess, how should he answer that question?

“No,” he said, eyes wide like a stunned deer.

“Then why did you reach for the offerings!”

What a silly question! These offerings are for Merlin, thereby he should have them, yes?

“I was hungry.”

“Merlin, we have plenty of food packed in our supplies,” Leon placated. It seemed he was trying to calm down Elyan, who became quite panicked when Merlin reached for the desired tart. Understandable though, Merlin knows Elyan meant well, but how can he explain why him taking the sweets won’t place Emrys’s wrath upon him without revealing that he is said wrathful Emrys (although he wouldn’t be very wrathful if they just let him take the tart).

“My bag is too far away though,” he said, like he was that six year old boy who followed his mother around the castle while she worked. He never wished to leave his mother’s side, so he would always complain if she asked him to fetch something a few feet away. Leon even gave Merlin the same look the boy’s mother gave him. This felt unfair. Merlin wasn’t some six year old with attachment issues. He was Emrys and this was his shrine, but he can’t tell Leon that.

“I’ll go fetch it for you, Merls!”

Bless Gwaine. Always after his own heart, that man. Not to mention, he also brought the knights’ attention to himself, granting Merlin the opportunity to swipe the tart from the shrine and shove it into his mouth. It tasted heavenly. 

Yes, this shrine thing was a great idea on the Druids part.

“What’s in your mouth, Merlin?”

Shit, he forgot to count Arthur. Arthur who only glanced over at Gwaine for a couple of seconds, and most likely saw Merlin shove the tart in his mouth. Merlin swallowed the rest of the  tart.

“Nothing, sire.”

Yes, good start, Merlin. He can play this game.

“Nothing?”

“Yep.”

“So I didn't see you eat one of the offerings to Emrys.”

“That’s correct, sire.”

“And was it good?”

“Very, like a taste from–” shit!

“Do you have a death wish!” Elyan hissed at him. Merlin refrained from answering that question. It seemed rhetorical, and his friend probably wasn’t seeking for Merlin’s honesty right then. “Emrys killed a priestess, what do you think he’ll do to you?”

“Well, she was being rude. I just ate a tart.”

“A tart not meant for you!”

Typically, in moments like these, the party is interrupted by either bandits or rogue sorcerers. This is mostly because moments like these escalate and people get loud, alerting enemies to their location. Then, when the dust settles, they are able to end disputes more amicably (this is because all the frustration is let out during the fighting, leaving the gang tired with no need nor desire to fight their friends right after). Unfortunately for Merlin, there is no spontaneous appearance from rogue sorcerers or bandits that aid Merlin in avoiding this conversation. What there is, however, is a well placed beehive hanging just above their camp. Maybe if Merlin faked a cough he could—

A distant roar is heard, coming from the west. It pauses everyone’s movement for a quick moment until Arthur makes the order to seek out the roar, claiming that such a beast is too close to Camelot for his own comfort. Elyan gives Merlin a stern look to mean that this conversation wasn't over as he made his way to the horses. Merlin breathes out a sigh in relief before joining the knights with their preparations. Whatever creature they find, Merlin will find a way to spare it as thanks (not that it’d know what the thanks is for, but that’s not important).

---

my contribution to this post here and a special thank you to @bellamyblakru for beta-ing this ilysm <3 and read this fic by @0hheytherebigbadwolf that's inspired by the same post (it's very good btw)

[telekineticseance]

MASTERPIECE

pairing: joe cooper x nb/gn! reader

summary: you caught coop cheating and he doesn't know how to handle you leaving him

genre: angst

word count: 1879

cw: cheating, drinking, they/them pronouns for reader

author’s note: HEAVILY inspired by masterpiece by motionless in white if you haven't listened then you should because it was on repeat as i wrote this

All the stupid lies and the stupid games

Left a vacancy in this picture frame

A prisoner by my own hands

'Cause if I can't have me, then no one can

His eyes watched as he pulled away from the girl he was with. The girl who wasn’t you. The girl he told you that you had nothing to worry about. “She was just a girl.” He watched as you stood in the doorway to the locker room, hand over your mouth, tears filling in your eyes. He quickly climbed out of the hot tub and tried to chase after you. He grabbed the closest towel and yelled for you as you ran down the hall, but by the time he reached the hallway you were leaving out the door.

“Fuck!” He knew he fucked up. He knew he shouldn’t have lied. He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did. What he had been doing. He walked back to the locker room and started grabbing his things, seeing the picture of you two in his cubby. The one he kept close for good luck, the one he wouldn’t even let Remer touch in fear that it would wash away the luck. It was almost as if the picture meant nothing now, he knew that. The girl walked over from the hot tub, wrapping her arms around him before he pulled away, “You’ve gotta go.”

“What do you mean go? We haven’t even done anything yet?” She asked, running her finger down Coop’s torso, practically twirling the hairs from his chest as she did so. He lightly grabbed her wrist, dropping the hand to her side, “I said go. You’ve ruined everything and I want you to go.” He practically spat at the girl before turning back and laying the photo face down. He heard the girl behind him scramble for her clothes before the door of the locker room slammed shut.

He walked out of the locker room and went to his shared house where Remer and Squeak also lived, and on occasion where you would stay. Especially after games. He walked to the fridge, grabbing a beer before slamming the fridge shut. He knew he couldn’t blame the girl. And he couldn’t blame you. He could just blame himself.

I need to heal what I inflict

But I'll burn that bridge when I get to it

As I play roulette with a broken gun

I confess these sins with a sharp and spiteful tongue

“You have to talk to them.” Remer spoke up, breaking the silence. Coop had barely left the couch after that night in the locker room. There was basically an ass indent on one of the cushions, he even slept on the couch. Knowing if he went to his room, your scent would be on the pillow, the blankets, hell even the clothes he would wear would have your scent on it. He would look at the phone every hour, hoping it would ring and it would be you, wanting to talk. Because he was too much of a pussy to do it himself. Afraid you’d ignore the call or afraid you wouldn’t want to hear him out.

What was there to hear out? “I cheated. Well almost. But I lied. I told them there was nothing to worry about and yet I was in the hot tub and they saw it.” Coop said, looking over at Remer. His roommate let out a sigh, Remer didn’t have much experience in the game of women but he knew what not to do, and cheating was definitely in the top three. Coop felt Remer give him a pat on the shoulder, “I don’t know dude. I do know that if you don’t talk about it at all. Nothing will happen.”

Coop shrugged, taking another swig from the beer bottle, emptying it before setting it in the trash with the pile of others, “I’ll get to it eventually. I just need to think about what to say.”

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

When every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes?

Coop stared at the notebook paper in front of him, it was surrounded by wads of other pieces of notebook paper that he had torn out and thrown to the side because he felt like it wasn’t the right thing. He had been rehearsing his apology over and over again, writing down different strategies to go about it.

It had officially been a week since the incident and the look on your face kept playing on repeat in his head. The tears welling in your eyes before you ran, the last image he had in his head. The last time he saw you.

He sighed before ripping out the piece of notebook paper, crumbling it into a ball, and then throwing it in the pile with the others. He ran his hand through his bleached blonde hair, the roots had grown out a bit longer than normal, usually you would help him with that but you weren’t there this time to do it. He hated every draft he wrote, feeling like it wasn’t enough or it was too much. He didn’t know what to do. He had never been in this situation before where he needed to apologize for being an idiot. Because that’s what he had been. An idiot.

Outlined in guilt, my portrait stares

In a gallery where the walls lie bare

As I modernize my antique ways

True colors can't escape the brush of fate

He stared in the mirror in the locker room, his hair was a disheveled mess and his eyes were puffy and red from the emotions he finally let out. He still hadn’t heard from you and he didn’t blame your decision on that. His roots still hadn’t been touched up, even with both Remer and Squeak offering to take your place but he refused. He didn’t want anyone else to do it. He wanted you to do it.

He wanted you to be in the crowd tonight, cheering him on, wearing his extra jersey. He wanted to be able to dedicate every shot to you, and dedicate the winning game to you. But he couldn’t because you weren’t there tonight. He didn’t know where you were at all. He just knew that he was by himself now. Despite what Remer told him, you weren’t there. You had slowly become his other half, he felt as though your relationship was written in the stars.

“Coop, we gotta go.” Remer’s voice rang through the door of the locker room. “I’m coming,” He said softly before taking one last look in the mirror, fixing a button on his shirt and then walking out of the locker room.

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

On every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes?

He looked around the stadium, hoping to see you. Hoping you would still come despite everything. When he didn’t see your face he sunk back to the dugout, plopping himself in his spot next to Remer. He knew the time was running out, if it hadn’t already. It had been almost two weeks and neither of you had said a word to one another since the incident. Remer had talked to you, but he wouldn’t tell Coop what was said. Just the same thing of, “You’ve got to talk to them.”

He sighed when his name was called to the plate, he stepped up, not even caring if he picked up his lucky La-Z-boy ball or to do his little kick that you loved. He took a deep breath closing his eyes to make his shot, “Hey Coop! Is that your girlfriend?” The opposing player spat out, Coop shot his eyes open looking in the direction of where he pointed, revealing you in the crowd. He immediately dropped the ball, making the referee count it as a shot as he stared, not even caring about the point he lost.

You were there.

Illustrate all my pain

And set it all ablaze

Burn

And set it all ablaze

“Where are you going? You could cost us the game if you leave now.” Remer grabbed Coop’s arm as he tried running out the closest exit. “I’m going after them.” He said, forcing Remer’s grip off before forcing himself out the exit.

He didn’t care if he lost the game or if the team had to forfeit. He knew what he had to do. He wanted to see you. He wanted to hold you. He didn’t want to let you go. He wanted you, and all of you.

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

When every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece of my mistakes?

He called your name out in the parking lot, seeing you walk to your car. You stopped in your tracks, turning around to look at him. “Don’t go,” He pleaded, taking steps closer to you. He was still in his uniform, once the two of you made eye contact, you quickly turned around and made your way out of the stadium. He didn’t want you to leave so he left immediately, catching you just in time.

You slowly looked down at your shoes as he walked closer. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve been thinking about it for the last two weeks and everything I think of makes me a bigger idiot than I already am. I fucked up. I hurt you.” He said, as he continued walking closer to you. “I just know that I need you. I realize that without you I’m practically nothing. You’ve changed me and made me a better man.”

“You lied to me Coop, you fucking told me that there was nothing to worry about when I asked you about her weeks ago!” Your voice was cracking as you tried to hold your ground, and you were right. He told you exactly that.

And in the light of my demise

I see my failures in your eyes

Every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes

He walked close to you, seeing your eyes from the streetlights in the parking lot, seeing them full of disgust and anger as you looked up at him. He sighed, fighting back his own tears, “I just want a second chance. Please. I’ll never hurt you again. I just need a second chance.”

His own voice was cracking as he almost got down on his knees in front of you, begging you for a second chance. Begging for you to forgive him and at least start over. “I love you.” He whispered, the first time he spoke those words to you, and he meant them. He meant them with the entirety of his heart.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at him, “I love you too Coop. But I can’t trust you. Not after you lied. I’m sorry.” You told him before you turned around, getting in your car. He watched you as you drove away from the parking lot, leaving him there with his own mistake.

[grassbreads]

So I started reading nno recently, and when I got to Yoite's introduction late in volume 1, it unexpectedly unearthed a long-forgotten memory from deep in the back of my brain.

Back in like 2013, I got really into the world of D.Gray-man fanart/fan comics on deviantart, which led me to something called ✨The Miserable Anime Boys Club✨. This was a goofy crossover comic about the extra-tormented male main characters of various series coming together to form a support group of sorts.

I don't think I'd ever heard of nno before finding that comic, but Miharu and Yoite were both recurring characters in it, so this was functionally my introduction to the series. They kinda stuck out to me despite being minor background characters, especially Yoite. In particular, Yoite's fucking hat burned itself into my brain, to the point that just seeing the original version was enough to dredge the memory of this comic up from the abyss.

This is because Yoite's hat was drawn like this:

I don't think he ever once spoke in the comic, and they never showed his eyes. He was just there lurking silently in his giant hat.

Please come experience this relic of my tweenage years with me

[subliminalbo]

Hypnovember Day 2: Roni's Debut

It started with a challenge.

Veronica was smart enough to know that Madison was playing her. There was no other reason she'd be so transparent, inviting her into the Alphas house to get a firsthand look at what she'd done. Madison had been recruiting Veronica for weeks, pestering her to defect from Pi Delta Kappa. "All those brains and they make you treasurer?"

It wasn't like Veronica actually felt undervalued by her sorority. That was definitely not a thing. And it definitely didn't mean anything that, after leaving about a hundred DMs from Madison on read, Veronica finally agreed to check the Alphas out without telling a single one of her sisters.

At that time the public perception of the Alphas was "small sorority, big heads." Madison was dropping fliers all over campus, publishing ads in student publications, making all kinds of idealistic promises to lure unsuspecting pledges to the house. She used words like "family" and "home" and "giving back." Veronica didn't have any reason to doubt that Madison believed her own bullshit, even if she was an ambitious snake. That's why she was completely shocked by what she found in the house.

Things first felt sideways when Claire Petruzzi, the Alphas' last president before Madison, greeted Veronica at the door in this, admittedly cute but ridiculously out of season, bikini top and skirt combo that absolutely popped with color.

"Hiya, Roni," Claire said with a smile that triggered uncanny discomfort in Veronica's brain. She must have been staring because Claire laughed and said, "Do you like my fit? Madison says that it embraces my best qualities."

"Yeah, no, of course," Veronica said. "Just used to the girls in my house going more for...comfort." She certainly felt overdressed in jeans and an oversized sweater.

Claire just laughed, then swung the door wide open in invitation. "Well come on in and we'll start the tour!"

Despite appearances, the Alpha house was like any other sorority house on campus. Most of the girls were off at work, the library, or whatever else a girl could get up to on a college campus, but a few wandered through the halls or lounged around in the living room. They were all in some state of undress, whether it was Claire's bikini or the two freshmen on the couch in their underwear. The girls turned toward around as they passed the living room and they spoke in unison, "Hiya, Roni."

"Uh, hey," she said before they turned their heads back toward the television.

Angelica entered from the kitchen in a pair of lacy black lingerie, a big bowl of reheated Chinese in her hand. She stopped on her way by to push Claire against the wall, forcing her tongue down her throat.

"My room tonight," Angelica whispered.

Claire moaned, "Of course, baby."

Before Angelica turned to head up the stairs to her room, she shot another one of those bright smiles at Veronica and said, "Hiya, Roni!"

By this point any hesitation from Veronica was vastly dwarfed by her curiosity. There was just something so weirdly sinister about the place, like the Alphas were just toys and she'd stepped inside of someone's dollhouse. She had a strong suspicion of whose it was.

The deeper Claire led Veronica into the Alpha house, the more sinister that feeling became. After showing off the kitchen and going over refrigerator etiquette (two more scantily clad Alphas popping in to say, "Hiya, Roni!"), Claire led Veronica upstairs. Veronica heard the moans from the stairwell, and as they moved down the hallway she spotted through an open door Gracie Garcia on the floor, her legs locked with a young brunette's as they scissored, presumably too distracted by the pleasure to recite their "Hiya, Roni" line.

Claire just laughed and pulled the door shut.

Veronica gasped. "Was that your recruitment captain with a pledge?"

"Yeah," Claire said. "She loves breaking the freshmen in."

It wasn't the only bizarre scene unfolding upstairs. Two more Alphas fucked in the shower while Claire showed off the new tile ("Hiya, Roni!"), and the ubiquitous sound of clattering beds behind doors were a nightmare to the senses. Veronica's head was spinning by the time they reached Madison's room.

"What did you to them?" Veronica demanded when Madison stepped out.

"Nice to see you too," Madison laughed. "Did you enjoy the tour?"

Madison was the only Alpha not dressed like she was at a party at the Playboy Mansion. She wore a vintage Thin Lizzy t-shirt and faded jeans, her hair tied up in a lose ponytail. More or less in line with the household fit Veronica had expected.

"What the fuck is going on, Madison?" Veronica demanded. "I come here for a pitch and walk into the fucking Stepfod Wives."

"That's really good!" Madison laughed, pushing by Veronica and taking her by the arm to follow. "I guess it's more like 'The Stepford Sisters, but you're right, Roni. These girls are brainwashed. All of them. See, I just didn't think you'd believe it all in a DM. You had to see for yourself."

Claire followed silently behind as Madison led Veronica back down the stairs, that uncanny smile replacing the absence of feeling on her face.

"I don't understand," Veronica shook her head. "Why are you doing this? Why invite me here?"

The last question caught in her throat. She knew the moment she saw the skimpy clothes and the zombie faces that she wasn't going to leave this house as herself.

"Oh come on, Roni," Madison said. "I told you I had a pitch for you. And I know that you're just dying to know how I did it."

Veronica was smart enough to know that Madison was playing her, and she still followed the bitch into the basement.

"This is where it all happens," Madison ushered her into the dark room.

Veronica gasped.

In the center of the room was a naked young blonde strapped to what looked like an old dentist chair. She'd been leaned back to face the ceiling, a visor fastened over her eyes and a pair of headphones over her ears. She moaned through a sock gag in her mouth, her body rocking in the chair, muscles tensing as the orgasms washed over her. Her perky tits rising and falling with her arching back. A second Alpha was on all fours between her legs, mouth pressed to the young woman's pussy, working diligently with her tongue to push her over the edge.

Veronica was fascinated, studying the display of submission as if she were in the science lab. Claire couldn't hold back the proud smile. Her program had impressed even a Pi Delta Kappa girl!

Madison stepped forward, placing her hand on the head of the Alpha on the floor. "Come on, Daisy, time for rest." she said.

Daisy rose to her feet, her chin glistening with the young woman's sex. Her lips spread into a smile as she said, "Hiya, Roni!"

Claire took her turn next, following Madison's direction and kneeling down before the brainwashed girl's pussy.

"Everyone pitches in here," Madison explained. "This one," she pointed to the girl in the chair. "She'll be our first real outside recruit. Recently we had a bit of a security breach but it's been resolved. I'm very curious to see how the little nuisance takes to her new life.

"Once they've visited the basement the girls have intermittent brainwashings as needed. We have a few headsets that we use upstairs, the chair's just for the less compliant ones."

The only word that Veronica could find as she watched the wicked exhibit was why? Why brainwash all the girls in her sorority? Why take on the other houses? Why bring her here?

"I love all of my sister's equally, Roni." Madison explained. "But they're all just so fucking dumb now! I know, I shouldn't play so hard with my toys, I just can't resist. Claire here was the bad bitch of campus, God, I get so hot just thinking about how much I've shaped her. But that's why I need you, Roni! Because I need something that none of these beautiful girls have anymore: brains. I want you to join us!"

Creepy smiles and bikinis year-round did not appeal to Veronica.

"Fuck you," she said said. "Make me."

She knew it was a poor choice of words, but she was still so stunned by it all.

"I don't think I'll have to," Madison said, her tone shifting to something a little more threatening. "Because you know what happens if you try to leave here. You go under the visor one way or the other."

"Okay," Veronica said, trying to keep her voice level. "What's the other way?"

"A challenge," Madison said. "Don't you want to know how a state quiz bowl champion measures up to my program? I know I do. Even some of the Alphas showed strong resistance, and you're the smartest girl in the smartest sorority. Don't you want to know your mental limits? Fifteen minutes with the program, that's all you have to last. Fifteen minutes and I'll let you walk."

Veronica was smart enough to know that Madison was playing her, but she was in a corner now with no other options. She could take the challenge with the chance to leave, or be forced into submission like the poor girl in the chair.

Madison's smiling face was the first thing Veronica saw when the visor came up from her eyes. The sun shined through the window and she was forced to hold her hand up to shield her adjusting eyes. After a few seconds though, she offered a confident smile. Fifteen minutes under the visor had been a breeze. She'd bested Madison's stupid program and now she was going to tell the bizarre story to the whole

"Hiya, Sister Madison!"

The words just fell out of Veronica's mouth. More natural, more true than any word she'd ever spoken. Her senses came back to her slowly from there. She realized that the bed was warm and damp beneath her. Her body felt sore. It hadn't been fifteen minutes at all.

"How do you feel, Roni?" Madison asked.

"I feel..." Roni started, closing her eyes to relive the last few days of satisfaction. It was as if she could feel every lick washing over her, slowly rewriting her mind.

Roni gripped her tits and moaned, "I feel so fucking goooood..."

Of course Roni wouldn't make her Alphas debut right away. Madison had a very important role for Roni as her little double agent. She returned to Pi Delta Kappa and resumed her duties as sorority treasurer, slowly infiltrating and undermining the Greek Council's efforts to stall the Alphas' rise. When Pi Delta Kappa voted to dissolve their house into the Alphas, they thanked Roni for betraying them. If she felt any regret for turning old friends like Tamika and Antonia into mindless slaves, it was buried so deep inside of her that she couldn't reach it.

After weeks as Madison's double agent, Roni finally got to make her big Alpha debut at a massive house party to celebrate the end of midterms. Roni was anxious as she watched the crowd gathering in the yard.

The young blonde Roni had witnessed being brainwashed in the basement stood next to her, encouraging, "Just breathe, you're going to be amazing." The little nuisance had blossomed into one of Madison's most valuable recruits. "You're smart, you're hot, and you're really fucking slutty."

"Right," Roni nodded, because that was all true.

"Trust your training, follow your inner Alpha, and remember the most important rule..."

"Alpha is everything," Roni recited.

"There is only Alpha," the girl finished, smacking Roni on the ass. "Happy hunting."

As the black robe slipped from her shoulders, Roni felt the rest of Veronica melt away. Her body exposed to the floor, she took a breath and stepped into the party.

It started with a challenge, and she was so fucking happy to have lost.

This is a companion to A Kingdom for a Mistress