#i wish nothing but the worst for those who allowed this and so many other atrocities happen by turning a blind eye

[allfearstofallto]

Dandelion Wine

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader x Yandere(?) Childe

Forced Marriage AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Synopsis: No crush is simply harmless when married to Scaramouche, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him. And what he doesn't see won't affect him, so what's the harm in putting on a little show?

TW: Yandere, obsessive themes, forced marriage, mentions of abuse/violence/punishment, reader mentions dissociating during sex, dub-con, unprotected sex, finishing inside, voyeurism, infidelity, masturbation (m. & f.)

Scaramouche believed that dinner should be eaten in silence with only the sound of the silverware and plates clattering. Hence why he rarely spoke at the table. He also believed that the same morals he applied to himself, were for you as well. Your sweet, plump lips that he kissed and sucked constantly, were to be shut and devoid of noises, only eating during meal times. The food that was prepared was meant to be savored, every bite of it tasted and appreciated. Because of that, dinners felt long, quiet, and worst of all, extremely tense.

The only times things were different, was when Childe came to visit. Number eleven as your husband called him, and Ajax as the orange haired man insisted he wanted you to refer to him as. His cheeky smile and big, blue eyes practically lit up the room, he was practically the epitome of visual charisma. And there was his incessant chatter, Scaramouche would say, his non stop talking about something or other. You never had the heart to tell the man you married that Childe actually talked a normal amount and that he was abnormally quiet.

“Have you ever seen a piece of mora straight from Liyue,” he asked rather loudly while holding up the coin, “Shiniest you'll ever see one. Man, those Liyue natives have no idea how lucky they are!”

You smiled alongside the man, also finding the topic interesting. The coin was indeed shiny, the only impurities on it being the fingerprints from Childe's hands. Other than that, it glimmered, making you realize how old and dirty the mora you must've had before was. Scaramouche wasn't impressed at all. He wasn't even paying attention. Quietly sipping his miso soup at the head of the table, his eyes only focused on his meal.

“Want it?” Childe asked you and you tried not to perk up too much, but your excitement was palpable. Seldom did Scaramouche entertain you with conversation or fun gifts. The only thing he'd bring you back from his travels was a single flower and maybe a regional tea to try together, but nothing you typically enjoyed.

“May I take it, my lord?” Pleading eyes looked at your husband who seemed more irritated than usual.

He let out a sigh, dropping his chopsticks in frustration, “Will it make the both of you shut up?”

Harsh words were nothing new to you, but you had to admit that those eyes of his made you freeze up like stone. No matter how many days you spent married to him, you never grew less afraid of your husband. And you definitely never found yourself coming to love him.

“Yes, my lord,”

He nodded to Childe and the coin was dropped into your hand. You held it as if it were fragile, not wanting to stain the shiny metal anymore than it already was. Your lips formed into a weak smile that you gave to Childe, then another one to Scaramouche who merely nodded at your display of joy, seemingly disinterested.

His chopsticks were picked up, a sign that he wished for dinner to continue on. You picked up yours as well. Your months of living with your spouse meant you had plenty of time to practice. Little leeway was given to you when it came to what you ate with, and despite the fact that you were originally from Mondstadt, you were given chopsticks with every meal. Time and practice made you grow accustomed to them, that and the fact that Scaramouche wouldn't allow you to eat with anything else. Learn to eat with them or starve, he told you. And you did grow terribly hungry.

Childe was more of a special case. He apparently lacked dexterity in hands. You saw it in the way he struggled to use the bow he was hell bent on learning and in the way he struggled to use chopsticks. Throughout the course of the meal, he'd already dropped three pairs, fumbling them dramatically like a character in a comedy play. Each time he'd lose a pair to gravity, leaving the wooden sticks on the floor, he'd look at his barely touched meal. The tragic, almost hopeless look on his face would elicit a laugh from you, followed by Scaramouche shooting you a very knowing glare. He'd sent you to your room without dinner many times before and for much less. Those glares were a good warning to shut up.

“Man! I can't seem to figure out how you eat with these things,” the orange haired male was holding one stick in either hand, instead using them to stab through the food and bring it to his lips. You held back your laughter again, instead forcing yourself to swallow more of your meal.

You had a crush on Childe. Maybe it was because of how kind he actually was or maybe it was because he was the only man you'd seen outside of your lawful husband in a year, but you did like him. He was funny, strong, and most importantly very attractive. Blue eyes and orange hair, a smile that could make a girl swoon with perfectly straight, white teeth. His voice was sultry, smooth like fine dark liquor, but he also knew when to be funny. His sense of humor was more comical to you than Scaramouche's dry humor or snide remarks. You liked Childe. Way more than you wanted to admit.

After dinner was a free time for you. From the time the plates were clean, until it was time for you to go to bed, you were allowed to wander the manor and do what you want. During this period, Scaramouche would be off doing what he pleased. Typically leaving the house to enjoy his night walks, where he'd be gone for hours. It was truly your only time of peace in hell he called home. It was also the only time you could talk to Childe when he came to visit. The two of you would spend the hours just telling each other whatever, it was mostly just you listening to him tell of his travels across all seven nations as you longed for the perceived freedom he had.

Much to your dismay he was nowhere to be found after dinner. You felt stupid searching the house looking for him. The interest towards him was likely one sided and on the slim chance it wasn't, you knew that nothing would happen between the two of you. Yet you looked for him. He was still good for conversation.

Find him you did, at the end of the second floor hallway, but not in the way you thought you would. Steam clouded around the door as he exited the bathroom, a towel was wrapped around his hips, orange pubic hair peeking out from it. His bare chest was covered in scarring, some old and healed, some visibly fresh. His skin was still moist with bathwater, his hair clinging to his face and dripping more down on him. He looked like a piece of art, a statue standing at the end of the hall, toweling his hair with his eyes closed. But then they opened.

You tried to turn on your heels and walk away before he spotted you gawking at him, but quick reflexes were expected of a harbinger. He saw you before you could even manage to take one step back.

“Oi! I was looking for you!” He called, stopping you in your tracks. You did everything in your power to avoid looking at him. That toned, firm body of his was practically begging you to gaze upon it.

“Please find me again when you're more decent, Lord Childe,”

He immediately recognized the forced stiffness of your words and scoffed, a look of disbelief forming on his features, “Since when do you refer to me as Lord, huh?” he was still smiling. Despite his undress, he wasn't the least bit shy.

Your mind shifted to your husband. Unwilling of a bride as you might have been, he made sure you were fully committed to him. He once commented on how much you smiled at his fellow harbinger and your blood went cold. Of course he noticed. Scaramouche was nonchalant, quietly observing everything around him, but he wasn't stupid. You know better than to think your little crush was well hidden, he was just giving you a warning in advance.

“I think we should start being more professional around each other,” you strained the words out, watching his face fall from his normal smile. It felt painful saying these things to him, but it was better for your safety and his.

“So we're not having our talks anymore?” He whined cutely, even pouting his lips a little, “I was looking forward to telling you about my stay in Mondstadt,” it was as if he knew exactly how to hold your attention. Lingering on every single syllable to make sure you knew he was speaking of your home, convincing your already weak will to falter, “and the wine I brought with me.” If he had you on his hook by mentioning Mondstadt, then the notion that he'd brought wine with you was all he needed to reel you in.

Hailing from the city of freedom, you were no stranger to a good drink. You remembered your first glass better than you remembered most things in your first kiss. Your first drink was like a rite of passage for Mondstadt and typically, the first liquor you tasted, became your vice. You were no different than your mother or your grandmother, the drink handed down from generation to generation, and your fondness was felt for dandelion wine. A sweet delicacy only found in the city of freedom, an unassuming drink that'd knock you flat on your ass if you didn't take it seriously enough.

But Scaramouche wasn't a fan of sweet things. He wasn't a fan of much, seeing as very little could even get a smile from him, but he had a special hatred in his heart for anything sugary. His taste leaned more towards the bitter, which was like hell for you.

Sake was never your drink of choice. There was plenty of it in Mondstadt, if there was one thing that your city could do right, it was import drinks from all over Teyvat. But just because it was there, didn't mean you ever drank it. Sake was a drink that tasted wrong to you. The harsh, bitter flavor left a terrible feeling inside your mouth that wouldn't leave no matter how much you tried. So of course, it was the favorite of Scaramouche. The disgusting taste matched his disgusting personality. And when you were permitted to drink, which was rare, you were given sake.

“Dandelion?” You questioned hopefully.

“Dandelion,” he affirmed. He was still using his hands to hold his towels, instead using his head to gesture to his room door, telling you to follow him inside. And you did.

You were tense as you sat down on his bed. Tense when you were handed a cup and told to hold it while you waited for him. Tense as he stepped into his closet to dress himself, still coming out in only pants, but no shirt, telling you that his hair was still wet to wear one. But all that tension melted away when he pulled that familiar green bottle from his bag, pouring you a glass of that rich, yellow wine.

The first sip took you back to your family's home. To a festival in Mondstadt, which was just one of the city's many excuses to drink more. The second took you back to a bar you favored, drinking competitions were held through the night, you always won. There was a part of you that just wanted to down the whole glass, drink it all as you'd done before and request another glass before that sweet taste ever left your tongue. But you saw that he'd only brought one bottle, you had to savor this glass.

“It's yours, if you want it,” Childe spoke softly while holding the wine up, he hadn't even poured himself a singular glass of it, “You just have to do one thing for me.”

Big, doe eyes looked up at him as you practically pleaded with him, “What?”

“Tell me how you really feel about me,”

He could've asked you to do a handstand on the roof of the house during a thunderstorm and that would've been much easier. For so long, your feelings for Childe were just thoughts. You could push them to the back of your mind and pretend they didn't exist. If they weren't real, your husband wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't punish you. And knowing Scara's jealousy, if he knew you had feelings for another and not him, no one would be safe.

“I won't tell,” he spoke again, a gentle hand coming down and stroking his cheek. His fingers were still warm from his bath, still slightly damp to the touch, the way they cling to your face was assuring.

“I'm married,” you said, “Not just to anyone, but your superior. He's nobody that we should be toying with like this.”

“Who says I'm ‘toying’ with anyone? I wouldn't be asking if I didn't have feelings for you as well,”

Your quick beating heart stilled in your chest for a moment, you lingered on every word. Did you make it up? Did he really say what you thought he did? Silence fell over the room as you contemplated what he said. If he liked you as well, he never showed it. Yet, he'd have no way to. Scaramouche seemed to be around every corner.

“I…like you,” saying the words solidified it. His hair, his smile, his voice, even the way he smelled, you liked it all.

You liked him so much you let him place the bottle of wine in your hands. You let him lean over and place a hand on your shoulder, so close to your face his still dripping hair was wetting your forehead. You let his nose brush against yours, you let him sigh against your lips, you let him close the distance between the two of you and sink into a kiss.

Your mind was a blank, empty room as you kissed Childe. You really kissed him. Kisses with Scaramouche felt like he was trying to swallow you whole, trying to own you, not cherish you. But Childe's admittedly cold, chapped lips were caressing yours. His hand that managed to slither around your waist, holding you like he didn't want to let you go, his other hand squeezing your chest. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating. If he could, you wanted his to be beating the same way.

A bell made you break away from the kiss with a gasp like you were about to be killed. Because you were. That wasn't just any bell. It was the chime of the bell above the main door. The one that signified that it was opening. The one that meant Scaramouche was home.

Biting back the urge to throw up, you tossed the wine on his bed and raced from the room. You didn't want to look back at Childe once. Not after the mistake you'd made with him. Lust was clouding your mind, it had to be keeping you from thinking properly. That was the only excuse you could make while you cursed yourself mentally, simultaneously begging that he wasn't aware of what you'd done.

At the foot of the stairs, his large hat still on his head and a grimace on his face, was Scaramouche. His indigo eyes looked you up and down, noticing the way you trembled and panted like you’d run a marathon.

“Where were you?” He asked, tossing his hat to the side. It fell to the floor with a clatter and was easily ignored by him, “Have you forgotten your duties? You know when I'm supposed to be home.”

“I apologize, my lord!” You tried to stop your voice from shaking.

“Well?”

You looked at him dumbfounded as he walked past you up the stairs.

“Aren't you going to tell me why you were late and huffing like a fool at that?”

“I fell asleep, my lord. And once I noticed I was behind, I raced to try to meet you at the door, but it appears I was too late,”

A mere hum from him was your response. Which was good enough, it meant he had nothing harsh to say. As the two of you entered the privacy of your room together, you felt him hug you from behind. Little did he touch you meaninglessly, which meant he wanted to go farther, his soft lips kissing the back of your neck told you enough.

“I'm only so hard on you because I care about you,” he whispered into your ear. Him being sweet you felt worse knowing what you did with Childe just a few short moments earlier.

But still, you ended up lying back on the bed, naked and nestled in the mountain of pillows. Scaramouche thrusting into your hole above you, eyes clenched shut in pleasure. He was fucking you into a mating press, your knees against your chest, causing you to only take shallow breaths. It was a personal favorite of his since it meant he could sink every inch of his cock into you, while still watching your face.

You kept silent as he fucked you, only letting out a few gasps or whines as he hit particularly sensitive spots inside you or thrusted too deep. You didn't enjoy sex with him, it was always something you didn't want, and he wasn't going to make you pretend. Scaramouche was going to do it with you regardless, it was about his own pleasure.

During the act you'd normally be lost in your own world, trying to pay attention to anything, but the way he was rutting his hips into you, it made the time go by quicker. The closet, the clock on the way, the way the bed squeaked, the crack in the door. The crack in the door where Childe stood, watching in the darkness of the hallway.

It took you a moment to realize what you were seeing and you had to convince yourself still that you weren't imagining it. Orange hair, deep, blue eyes, shirtless and strangely with a tent growing in his pants. Childe stood in the doorway watching, out of view of Scaramouche who either has his eyes closed or stayed focusing on your face.

You went to cover yourself, but realized that that would draw your husband's attention to the other man. You couldn't say anything, not without fear of Childe getting hurt in the process. You felt scared, neverous, a little violated, but when you saw him slide a large hand down and palm his growing length through the fabric of his pants, you began to feel almost aroused.

Sick. Sick in the head, you called yourself mentally as your eyes stayed focused on the man watching from the hallway. But you still placed your hands on your breasts, tweaking your nipples and mewling out softly. You didn't know what came over you to make you do such a thing, but knowing that Childe could see you made you want to do more than just lie there. Scaramouche was immediately surprised by you making any noise of pleasure at all and quickened his already brutal pace. But it felt good for once. It felt nice. You could feel yourself growing wetter, your cunt finally sucking him in and welcoming him.

“You're rather receptive tonight,” he grunted out with a smirk and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his confidence.

“I…I suppose it feels better than usual, my lord,” you locked eyes with him, until he clenched his shut from the pleasure once more. Then you looked back at Childe. He'd long since freed his cock from his pants, stroking his long thick length. It was big. That was all you could think as you watched him, how you wished that it was his big cock inside of you, but you could pretend. Pretend that it was him on top of you instead of your husband.

Mewling and moaning louder than you ever had before, making noises you didn't even know you could, your legs were pressed harder against your chest, opening yourself up for him to go even deeper. You were dripping at this point, your wetness sliding down to your ass. But Childe was dripping as well. His cock was leaking precum, coating his hand in a lube that he was using to stroke himself at the same pace that Scara was going inside you.

“Ah! Yes….yes! Fuck me harder!” You'd never begged for more like this before, but who was he to question it, he'd never know that your cries were for another. He was enjoying how wet you felt around him, how you were moving your hips to match his pace inside you. He merely panted and did as he was told, his cock thrusting into you in deep, long, hard, strokes, each one having you see stars.

“I'm finishing inside, my love,” he cooed, pressing a kiss against your lips. You nodded, locking your legs around his hips. A move you'd never done in all the times he'd slept with you and something that made him gasp out in pleasure.

It only took a few more thrusts before he held his cock balls deep inside you, you could feel the length twitching as he filled you with seed. Each shot of his hot ejaculate hitting your walls and making your whimper. Light kisses were pressed against your forehead as the two of you were locked together. His cum and your honeyed wetness dripping from your hole.

When he pulled out, you kept your legs up a little longer, making sure Ajax saw every drop of his cum dripping from you. Your still needy twitching cunt, filled with a load, your delicate fingers rubbing your clit in slow circles while he watched. Your soft gasps and pants, trying not to draw Scara's attention while he was cleaning himself up in the connected bathroom. Both of you, putting on a show for each other. Him stroking his length from the base to the tip slowly, extenuating every inch and you dipping your fingers into your filled hole.

He continued jerking his cock while he watched you, nothing was said or spoken between you two, but your eyes conversated enough. This was pure desire. It was need. And when you came, it was for him. Your hips stuttered and bucked off the bed, toes curling almost painfully.

Childe came with you. Watching you finish while looking at him was more than enough. His hand was pressed against the door, scratching at the wood, begging to be let in so he could finish inside you as well, like he knew you wanted him to. But he didn't. His cock sprayed rope after rope of cum onto the floor of the hallway in front of him. His toned chest heaving as he watched himself make this mess.

You longed to lick it up, not just the cum, but his still aching cock. You wanted to clean it with your mouth, to suck it the way your husband made you. You knew he wanted more. But Scaramouche was already out of the bathroom, a towel in hand. He began cleaning you up between your legs, eyes seeming a little softer than normal while he did. A look that wasn't normal for him.

“You did well tonight,” he praised you. Fond words you'd never heard from him before, but likely because he had no idea why you were putting on such a show.

“Thank you, my lord,” you replied sheepishly, looking back up to the crack in the doorway, Childe was gone. It was better this way though. Better that he leave now than accidentally get the attention of your husband.

“I'll think of a reward for you tomorrow, but rest for now,” the candles were blown out and he laid next to you. A protective arm was wrapped around your waist as you lay on your back, trying to regulate your heartbeat.

Realization hit you like a truck, forming a sickening pit in your stomach. It was only now that you'd realized what you'd done and fear and worry were taking over. If Scara were to find out, he'd kill you. He'd do worse than kill you you supposed, ending your life would be much too easy

And you could only imagine what'd happen to Childe next.

You lay on your back in that inky black, pitch darkness, eyes trying to adjust to the light. You were feeling regretful, but you'd also never felt such a thrill in your entire life. Not since you got married.

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! boyfriend x fem reader

Malik is the sweetest guy you've ever come across and his charisma doesn't even come at a cost. You've never met anyone, no matter the gender, that was as attentive and humorous as him. Malik could care less if he's making himself look like a fool as long as he's graced with the presence of your heartwarming smile. His humor consists of material you'd only ever expect to hear out of the mouth of a teenage boy which is what makes his jokes so much funnier.

He doesn't need an international holiday in order to spoil you with stuffed animals, sweets and handwritten letters, he already gifts you all those things for the simple fact that he wants to. Malik is always showing up to your shared apartment with a bouquet of flowers in hand as he feels like the worst man to ever walk the Earth if he does otherwise.

Letting you pay for yourself is something he'll never allow you to do, as long as he's with you of course. He can't exactly stop you from doing so if he's not physically next to you (rare occurrence)but he has his own way of handling that issue. He'll notice if you seemed to have purchased something with your own money while he wasn't around, and immediately reach into his pocket in an effort to pay you back.

"You look so pretty, baby. Is that a new lipgloss?" "Yeah it is, I bought it when we were at the market the other day!" "Oh yeah? How much was it, baby? I'll give you your money back, just let me know if you want something next time, okay? I don't care if I look like I'm busy with something else, I have all the time in the world when it comes to you."

While we're on the topic of time I think this is the perfect moment to mention the fact that Malik is extremely possessive over not only you but also your time. Nothing gets him more upset than when the two of you are out together at a public setting and your friends attempt at pulling all of your attention away from him. In reality, your friends are simply making conversation with you and they actually make several attempts at including him in the conversation. This, however, doesn't matter to Malik one bit, he can see right through their 'good people' personas.

Malik practically battles with other people when it comes to having your full attention on him. It's not even a case where you're not appreciating how greatly he treats you, no. He is the one who is urging himself to be the absolute best for you before someone attempts at lifting you off of your feet and away from him. He finds it incredibly comedic when others attempt at acting as if they could ever understand or know you as well as he does. There have been many instances where he's gotten you the perfect gift and he just can't help but look on at the other party attendees with pity, as they all now know that you won't be as satisfied with their presents.

Is Malik a possessive boyfriend (soon to be husband)? Yes. Although, this doesn't mean he won't allow you to have girl trips/sleepovers. If you're having a girls trip in an area with a completely different time zone, this will not prevent Malik from staying up as late and early as he needs in order to call and wish you a good morning.

He will keep you on the phone for extremely extended amounts of time (not that you mind). Your friends could try their absolute hardest at being irritated towards his constant need to be near you and to call you but they just can't. Malik is so sickeningly sweet to you that they'd be seen as bitter people that are just jealous due to the fact they've never been as loved and cared for as you are now.

Malik didn't exactly grow up in the most accepting house hold, even as a child, he felt as though he was constantly walking on eggshells with his parents. His parents were raised with extremely aggressive religious views that would quite obviously intimidate the average person, this caused him to be raised in an environment where even cartoons most people deemed as 'kid friendly' were forbidden. Anything that wasn't blatantly religious was seen as unholy, his parents wanted him to uphold the stereotypical attitude of toxic manhood that even him doing simple acts of skincare were seen as something to 'look out for'.

This extremely damaged environment he was raised in just may be the reason as to why he doesn't speak to his family anymore and why he loves so ferociously, like a rabid animal. I don't know though, it's not like I make the rules or anything.

He absolutely adores doing anything and everything romantic with you, especially within the comfort of your own home. When the holidays roll around, there's nothing he loves more than brewing up two cups of iced coffee, sporting matching onesies, baking Christmas cookies and lighting up the fire place as the moon shines into your shared bedroom window.

Well, there is one thing he loves more than all of that.

That's you.

Edit: credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ♡

[switchypanic]

Wishful Thinking || A 'Hazbin Hotel' Tickle Fic (100 Follower Special)

Summary: Vox's obsession with Alastor is no secret, but the true extent and nature of said obsession is an entirely different story. As his thoughts grow increasingly consumed by his rival, Vox finds it harder and harder to think about anything else, ultimately coming to a head with a very interesting discovery.

Content Warnings: Canon-typical language, brief mild violence, use of restraints, a lil' bit of blackmail, and Vox being a thirsty bitch for Alastor (because we love a good dose of one-sided attraction). Also, not really a warning, but any scenes that take place in somebody's head are in blue and italics (you'll see what I mean as you read).

Word Count: 3,669 words.

Vox couldn't fucking stand Alastor.

His stupid smile, his stupid voice, those stupid powers that allowed him to crush anyone in his way like an insect. The man was infuriating, always acting so calm and in control, even after Vox managed to get the drop on him that fateful day seven years ago. It was like nothing could touch him in any MEANINGFUL way, a fact that frustrated Vox to no end.

Yes, Alastor was nothing but a big pain in the ass, constantly doing anything in his power to screw with Vox, oftentimes broadcasting it for the entirety of Pride to witness.

Worst of all was the way that he infiltrated Vox's processor, filling his head with fantasies he had no way of controlling without shutting himself down completely. And it wasn't even intentional! That bastard had no idea what he was doing, or if he did, he gave no indication of it! No, he just kept on smiling that stupid grin, making those passive aggressive remarks, acting like he wasn't the thing consuming Vox's mind nearly twenty-four hours a day.

Vox watched the surveillance footage captured earlier that morning, feeling his breath hitch at the staticky image being displayed. He could just barely make out Alastor's form through the distortion (another thing that Vox hated about him; the bastard made it damn near impossible to get a clear image of him), standing outside the doors of little Princess Morningstar's hotel discussing something unintelligible with that winged cat sinner who often hung around him.

Through the grainy audio, he could just make out Alastor barking out a laugh, the sound itself laced with static and radio interference. The deer demon's shoulders shook, his ears pinning back slightly as he chortled, his companion letting out an irritated huff in response.

How many times had Vox watched the clip now? He had honestly lost count. He didn't know why he kept returning to that particular moment of footage; nothing particularly useful or interesting was occurring. Just a regular conversation, from what he could tell. There was just...something in the other overlord's moment of mirth that captured his full attention, setting something ablaze within the TV demon.

More; he wanted to hear more.

The lights flickered, the sound of screeching radio filling the air, accompanied by something entirely different.

Giggling, pure and hysterical.

Alastor lurched forwards, hands latched onto Vox's wrists as he tried to lean forward and away from the other demon, who held him firmly against his chest. "Rehehehehelease me at ohohohohonce!" The usually composed overlord was a mess, face tinted a bright shade of red, eyes crinkled with mirth as another wave of snickers shook his frame. "Shihihihihihihit!"

Vox chuckled, leaning forward to croon into Alastor's ear, which immediately flicked at the feeling of the other's warm breath. "What's the matter, old man? Too ticklish?" He sang, smirk widening. "What would the public think, knowing the famed Radio Demon is so...sensitive..." He growled the last part, low and teasing, resulting in a shriek of microphone feedback from Alastor. "Perhaps I should turn on some of my cameras, hm? I doubt you could focus on messing with them while your giggling so hard. I could let all of Hell know just how much of a ticklish little-"

Vox blinked, pulled from his daydream by a raised brow from Velvette. "Vox, are you listening to me? This is important shit! I need to make sure you're on top of the advertisements for my new collection if we are going to see any substantial sales!"

Vox cleared his throat, trying to urge his screen to COOL THE FUCK DOWN before his flusteredness became obvious. "Apologies, I seem to have gotten distracted. You were saying, my sweet?"

Vox chuckled, watching his rival's squirming form, bound to the chair with the purest grade of angelic steel money could buy.

Only the best for this occasion.

"Well, well! Look what the cat dragged in!" Vox laughed, walking in circles around Alastor, taking in every detail of the scene before him. He was going to relish thing; savor it. He had waited so long to have the other at his mercy, and now he was going to take his sweet time and ENJOY the fruits of his labor. "You've lost your touch, old timer! It was far too easy to catch you in my little trap."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, grin tightening in a clear show of displeasure. "You would do well to remember who you are speaking to." He retorted, chin raising defiantly as Vox finally stopped in front of him.

"Oho, I remember good and well. I'm talking to the prick who has done nothing but make my life harder ever since he arrived here, and I'm going to see to it you feel every second of what's coming next." He leaned forward, locking eyes with the other overlord as he gave a grin of his own, his far more devious. "Little buck."

Vox's hand's shot out, latching onto Alastor's ribcage and beginning to claw at the boney torso. Alastor's breath hitched, his eyes widening with alarm. His grin became more strained as he jerked forward, trying to curl inwards on himself. His breathing became sporadic, lips sealed shot as a wobbly, genuine smile began to curl at the corners of his mouth. "F-Fuhuhuck!"

The TV demon laughed lowly. "Trying to hold out, are we? We'll see how long that lasts..."

Vox awoke with a start, his screen turning on as he bolted up in bed. His eyes were wide, immediately flicking over to Valentino, who lay beside him. Thankfully, the moth was still sound asleep, snoring loudly without a care in the world. Vox sighed, running a hand across his face and feeling the heat of a blush under his palm.

Damn it, this was starting to get out of control!

Vox was going mad! No matter how hard he tried to clear his thoughts, they always returned back to those deep, hidden desires playing out over and over in his processor. He found himself constantly thinking about Alastor's smile, his laugh, the prospect of taking him down with a few well placed squeezes or prods. To make matters worse, Vox was having a hard time FUNCTIONING at work because of this, and he could tell the other Vees were starting to catch on that something was up.

The TV demon rung his hands together, pacing back and forth in his private office. He had to find a solution FAST or he was royally screwed!

'Damn you, Alastor!’ Vox thought, a small growl slipping out as he rubbed his forehead, flopping into his chair and turning to face one of the many spying monitors plastered to the wall. "Pull up what we have on the Hazbin Hotel." He grumbled, giving in to his urge to spy on his rival once more. Inside, he secretly hoped to catch another fleeting moment of mirth from Alastor, even if it was just a chuckle.

Three monitors came to life, showing the hotel from various angles, with one focused directly on the front entrance. Aside from his...ongoing interest in the Radio Demon, Vox liked to keep tabs on who was going in and out of the hotel, just to make sure the princess wasn't gaining any more powerful allies he needed to know about. The scene was serene, or at least as serene as a live feed of Hell COULD be, nothing out of place. It seemed luck wasn't on Vox's side, as Alastor was nowhere to be seen. The TV host felt his eye twitch in irritation, disappointment stirring within him.

"You motherfucker! This is a brand new suit!" Vox yelled angrily as Alastor dodged another of his attempts to strike him.

The Radio Demon let out an amused chuckle (though unfortunately not the kind of laugh Vox had been secretly craving), one flick of his microphone sending three tentacles darting at Vox from different directions, which the other barely managed to avoid. "Really? Could have fooled me with how tacky and outdated it looks." The redhead retorted smugly.

"Oh, fuck you! I'll wipe that shit-eating grin off your face!" Vox retorted, giving up on using his powers in favor of lunging for the deer demon himself.

Alastor took a step back, Vox's claws just barely grazing the sides of his neck. The radio host opened his mouth, as if to make another snide remark, but whatever he said died in his throat and was replaced by a startled crack of microphone feedback. The two demons froze, eyes widened as they stared at each other wordless for a moment.

"What the fuck was-" Vox started, but in the blink of an eye, Alastor was gone and their fight was seemingly over.

"I mean, seriously?! What the fuck WAS that?!" Vox asked himself, finding himself pacing around his private surveillance room once more. "He never runs from a fight with me! Shit, he only ran from Adam because he was about to fucking die! He was nowhere near that point today!"

Did Vox somehow managed to hurt him? No, he had thrown far worse at the Radio Demon before without leaving so much as a scratch. He had BARELY touched him, and even with his claws, it couldn't have possibly hurt. So what...

The TV demon stopped, eyes shooting wide open as his breath quickened. No...no fucking way...

Alastor was ticklish. Not just in Vox's mind's eye, not just in his secret fantasies. He was actually, tangibly ticklish, and going from the reaction one brief touch had garnered, horrifically so.

Vox's processor raced at the prospect. He had been daydreaming about turning the other overlord into a cackling puddle, wheezing for mercy through a cracked voice, but he had never actually imagined it was possible! Vox got the feeling this discover was only going to make his daydreaming problem worse, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Alastor was TICKLISH...

'There has to be some way I can...some trick I can pull to...' Vox's mind raced, barely able to finish a sentence. He HAD to have the other now, even if just for a brief instance. Vox NEEDED to feel that high of reducing his mortal enemy to giggling shambles; to know what it felt like to be the one to finally BREAK the feared Radio Demon. But how?

Obviously the heat of battle wasn't the best place, though it would ensure a public audience to witness his victory. He doubted Alastor would agree to a private meeting, especially after their most recent fight. And there was CERTAINLY no way Vox was going to lower himself enough to go crawling to Princess Morningstar's little hotel. No, Vox was going to have to come up with another solution.

"Something on your mind?" A voice purred from behind him, low and dangerous. Vox yelped, whipping around with widened eyes. From one of the darkened corners of the room, Alastor seeped out of the shadows, grin ever present but appearing more strained than usual. Vox felt a nervous lump form in his throat.

"What the fuck?! How did you even get in here?!" He yelled, immediately moving to hit the alarm button on his control console, only to find his wrist being suddenly restrained by a shadowy tentacle sprouting from the floor.

"Ah, ah!" Alastor tutted, taking a few steps forward. "None of that. I just want to talk." He cocked his head to the side. "And as for how I got in, let's just say your security is shockingly terrible for a demon of your status."

Vox's eyes narrowed. "If you're going to kill me, at least make it quick." He growled, attempting to put on a brave face and save a bit of his pride.

"Kill you? Why, I'm planning to do no such thing, at least not today! After all, to defeat one's rival in such a disgraceful, sneaky manner would not be becoming of either of us, would it?" Alastor chuckled, moving closer to Vox as another tentacle grabbed ahold of his other wrist, keeping the TV demon rooted firmly in place. A flash of green magic briefly passed over Alastor's eyes as he chuckled. "Though it would be quite easy for me to do so with you sooo defenseless."

Vox's brows furrowed in confusion. "Then why the hell are you here?"

"Like I said, I just want to talk." Alastor leaned forward, maintain eye contact with the shorter demon. "To ensure that you keep your trap shut about matters which do not concern you."

"What are you going on about?" Vox sighed, clearly irritated by the other's continued vagueness. He continued to stare at the other demon, who merely continued to watch him wordlessly, before it dawned on him. "You're worried I'm gonna tell somebody you're fucking ticklish?"

Alastor's eye gave the slightest twitch. "Sensitive." He corrected.

"I'm pretty sure you're ticklish." Vox retorted, taking some delight in his rival's clear displeasure. "And what makes you think holding me hostage in my own office would stop me from mentioning it during my next broadcast? You can't keep me like this forever."

The sound of microphone feedback briefly overtook the air around him, making Vox wince at the volume and pitch. "No, I can't keep you here indefinitely, but I can provide you with a little incentive to keep your trap shut." One of the tentacles coiled further down Vox's arm, the end gently brushing over the trapped overlord's armpit. Vox tensed, breath hitching as his eyes grew wide as saucers. "You see, don't think I haven't noticed your own sensitivity, Vox. In fact, I've known about it for some time."

Shit.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about! Get the fuck away from me!" Vox stammered, eyes locked onto the other's devious smirk.

"Oh, come now, don't be shy! It's not as if it was especially hard to find out about! We have fought so often, categorizing your little weak points was easy enough to accomplish!" Alastor took a step closer as the shadowy tentacle began to stroke Vox's armpit more firmly, slowly moving up and down in an agonizingly teasy motion. "I will admit, it took me some time to figure out why you often flinched at the slightest of touches during battle. However, all it took was witnessing one little tickle fight at the hotel to make everything fall into place."

Another of Alastor's tentacle slipped up, beginning to tweak at Vox's side, causing him to bite down on his lip in a desperate attempt to hold back snickers. "Those weren't the reactions of a man barely avoiding a fatal blow, those were the reactions of a man trying oh so hard to keep from giggling."

Vox felt his screen heating more and more by the second, both from embarrassment and the effort to keep his laughter bottled up. What the fuck was happening?! How was this real life?! The TV demon lurched forward, straining against the restrains as a particularly well-placed prod to his hipbone pulled a soft snort out of him. "Shuhuhut the fuck up!"

"Being stubborn, are we? I expected nothing less." Alastor chuckled, clearly amused. "Perhaps I should take a page from Angel Dust's playbook then, hm?" The other overlord suddenly materialized behind Vox, melting from the shadows and resting a clawed hand on the back of Vox's head. His grip tightened, pulling Vox's head backwards as he crooned into his ear. "Coochie coochie coo..."

Vox just about short circuited at that, the sound of loud television static filling the air. As Alastor's free hand suddenly dug into his stomach, he couldn't hold back any longer, bursting into a wave of panicked giggles. "Ohohohoho shihihihihihit!" The flood gates had opened, and Vox had no hope of closing them again, no matter how hard he tried.

"Lovely." Alastor seemed quite pleased with himself, clawed fingers scribbling across his rival's exposed midriff as the tentacles (thankfully) stopped their own attacks, now focusing on holding the TV demon nice and still.

"Fuhuhuhuhuck you! Lehehehehet mehehehe go!" Vox tried to sound threatening, he really did, but that was impossible when every word was laced with titters. He squirmed desperately, attempting to curl inwards and protect his sensitive torso, but the restraints held firm. His voice raised in pitch as Alastor zeroed in on his upper stomach, just below the ribs, refusing to acknowledge the borderline squeal he made.

"And why would I do that? I have you right where I want you; nice and helpless..." There was a low growl to Alastor's words, both threatening and teasing in the most awful of ways, sending Vox further spiraling into flusteredness. His claws began to slowly inch upwards, like a spider slowly climbing towards prey trapped in its web. "From what I have gathered, your ribs seem to be an area you're quite desperate to defend during our little fights. I wonder why that could be, hm?"

The TV host began shaking his head furiously. "Dooohohon't yohohohou fucking dahahahahare! I'll kihihihihihihill you!" He snorted, the sound of television static increasing ever so slightly.

"Oops, too late!" Alastor's claws dug in, beginning to rake across Vox's rib cage slowly, moving up to just below the armpits before cascading back down to just above the stomach.

Vox screeched, thrashing becoming downright desperate as he threw his head back with laughter. "NOHOHOHOHOHOOO! OHOHOHOHOHO MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!" His cooling systems had kicked in, the fans whirling loudly as they attempted to cool down his quickly heating form. "NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE!"

Alastor chuckled devilishly. "Why Vox, you should know better! Everyone knows that saying "not there" only makes the attack want to exploit that spot even more." He hummed, mockingly pretending to think. "Perhaps you DID know, and you're just enjoying this so much you want me to keep going? Is that it?"

The other overlord let out a startled squeal at the feeling of something fiddling with his antenna; when had ANOTHER tentacle popped up?!

Vox face felt like it was on fire from the teasing, his laughter pitching up with flustered desperation. "SHUHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK UP! THAHAHAHAT'S NOHOHOHOHOT TRUE!" He denied vehemently, knees starting to go weak. After a moment, his legs gave out, but instead of slumping to the floor, Vox found himself being held up by Alastor's sentient shadow. The creature's grin widened, becoming downright feral as it let out an amused cackle at his plight.

"Whatever you say, old pal! Now, if you REALLY want this to stop, you will agree to keep what you discovered today between us alone." Alastor rested his chin on Vox's shoulder, the touch shooting a bigger shock through his nervous system than any tickling ever could. "Do we have a deal?"

Vox's processor was racing a thousand miles a minute. Fuck, why was this actually fucking fun?! What was wrong with him?! He knew he should have hated it; the powerlessness, the teasing, the terror of being so utterly defenseless in front of his greatest rival. Yet...he didn't hate it, a fact he found more flustering than any tease Alastor could have pulled out of his ass.

No, Vox did NOT want it to stop.

Still, if Vox DIDN'T give in, it would only confirm the assumption deer demon had so accurately deduced, and he wasn't sure his heart would be able to take the cruel, crooning teases Alastor would no doubt come up with upon such a revelation. When weighing the humiliation of yielding to Alastor to the humiliation of admitting that he was ENJOYING getting tickled to the brink of his sanity, Vox would take the former any day.

"FIHIHIHIHINE, HOHOHOHOHOLY SHIHIHIHIHIT! DEAL, DEHEHEHEHEEEEAL!" He screeched, a little wheeze slipping out as one of the tentacles tugged on his sensitive antenna. "JUHUHUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP, YOU BAHAHAHAHASTARD!"

As soon as those words were uttered, all touch disappeared, and Alastor reappeared a few feet in front of Vox. The overlord collapsed against his surveillance console, panting as his fans worked overtime to cool his body down. He shook with residual titters, his sharp-toothed grin nearly slipping his screen in two.

"There, was that so hard?" Alastor purred, sharing a smug grin with his shadow. "Now, I expect you to hold to our deal, otherwise I will have to take this little audio recording and make it the center of my next broadcast!" The deer demon twirled his cane, gazing at it and humming as Vox's eyes shot open.

"What now?"

Alastor scoffed. "Oh, please! Did you really think I would take you on your word alone that you would stay silent? I knew you would not make a soul deal with me over it, so I took matters into my own hands." The other sinner explained. "See, my microphone was recording our little interaction the whole time, minus the parts about my own...shortcomings. Think of it as insurance; it will not be released to the public as long as you behave yourself!"

Vox's face exploded into a bright blush blush. "Wait, that wasn't part of the fucking-"

"Oops, I'm afraid I have another engagement to attend to! Until we meet again!" Alastor cut him off, melting back into the shadows and disappearing from sight before Vox could finish his sentence. The TV host growled, flopping into his chair. His claws dug into the armrests, slicing into the slight padding. That prick! He couldn't just-

The overlord sighed in defeat after a moment, eyes closing as his breathing slowly returned to normal and his fans kicked off. He could still feel those claws scratching at his ribs, setting his nervous system alight with ticklish fire. He could still hear that voice, singing those awful, teasing words into his ear. He could still feel his limbs strain against the tentacle's hold, preventing him from squirming away no matter how hard he tried. Vox swallowed, feeling his blush returning full force.

He might have a different daydream to worry about now...

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

[thankskenpenders]

Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

[obsessedelusional]

drunken jealousy (stupidity)

Konig x fem!reader

The crew is out celebrating a successful mission, everyone is having fun. Except for Konig who’s so focused on you from across the bar. What happens when he takes his drunk coworkers advice? Only they’re not interested in helping, only wanting to see him make a fool of himself.

2.1kish++++

feedback & reblogs appreciated ♥︎

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

“Are you going to say something or just keep glaring at her?” Ghost speaks, breaking Konig’s unrelenting stare.

Bringing him out of his thoughts long enough to feel embarrassed for staring so hard that others noticed. The crew is out celebrating a successful mission at the local dive bar. It’s a few hours into the night and everyone is started to feel the effects of their drinks.

“You wait too long and you’re going to miss your opportunity.” Soap adds, motioning to where you’re sat.

Konig looks back at you, greeted by the sight a newer recruit flirting with you. The worst part you seem to be enjoying it, laughing along as the recruit whispers something Konig can’t hear into your ear. He’s immediately filled with jealousy, that even he is aware that he has no right to.

The two of you never got along that well. Not because of anything you did. You were nice, friendly to everyone around you. From the start Konig wanted nothing to do with you. At least that’s what he wanted you to believe. Everyone but you knowing the real reason that was afraid to get close to you. Knowing how easy it would be for him to fall for you. He can’t do that, he wouldn’t allow that. His only focus is and should been his job. Not the stupid crush he formed that made him feel like a teenager again. But you simply existing made that so hard for him.

All of this lead to a very uncomfortable relationship between the two of you. Well aware of the constant gaze, his eyes always seemed to be focused on you. He would often be the first to stick up for you or get in a new recruits face when they were being disrespectful to you. Then follow it up with some back handed advice aimed at you about how it was your fault. Or what you could do in the future to prevent it from happening again. Which only confused you more and pushed you farther away. He’d spend the rest of the day replaying the incident in his head, wishing he had said something different. Only to repeat the same mistake over and over again.

“You just going to let that happen?” Soap snickers, causing Ghost to laugh with him.

“I don’t have a choice.” Konig mutters, eyes never leaving you. Watching you take a sip from your drink, taking note of the way your lips touch the glass as you drink. Noticing the lip stamped shape from your lipstick on the glass. Thinking of all the places on his body where he would want those lips to taste. He groans, annoyed at the voice of his coworker taking him out of his thoughts. Pulling his attention from you again and back to the two idiots sat next to him.

“What’s stopping you?” Ghost asks.

“It’s inappropriate. We work together. It would never work.” He responds, quickly as if he’s said this to himself many times before. Like a mantra he says over and over again, to try and make himself believe that it’s for the best.

“Is it frowned upon? Sure. Does it really stop anyone? No.” Soap responds, drunken grin plastered on his lips.

“Even if I wanted to. I wouldn’t know how to approach her. She thinks I hate her.” Konig sighs, sitting back in his chair eyes still on you.

“Girls eat that shit up.” Soap says, laughing as he takes another drink.

“Yeah. They like to be dominated, told what to do. They like when you’re a little mean.” Ghost adds, intoxicated laugh following. These three men too drunk for their own good. Two of them ready to get the third man in trouble.

“Serious?” Konig questions.

“Yeah.” Ghost and Soap say in unison, they look at each other before erupting into laughter.

“You know what you should do?” Ghost says between laughter, trying to catch his breath.

“You need to let her know that she belongs to you, text her right now. Get her attention, steal it away from that new recruit.” Ghost suggests, Soap agreeing with him. The two of them trying everything in their power not to laugh more than they already have.

“Nein. She does not belong to me.” Konig huffs, shaking his head.

“You see something you want. You have to take it. These American women are nothing like the woman back from where you came from.” Soap says as he reaches for Konigs phone, wasting no time to type out a text before Konig can notice. Only to notice because Ghost is leaned, looking over Soaps shoulder as he types. Laughing his ass off, clutching Soap in an attempt to keep himself from falling.

“What are you…” Konig reaches for his phone, trying to take it from Soap. It’s too late because Soap is done, passing it back to Konig. He was in a rush to send out the message it’s filled with errors and makes little to no sense. The best his intoxicated brain can come up with such a short notice.

K: “Knck it off!! If he touches u he will sleep with the fishys.”

Konig reads it and his face drops, filled with dread for what’s about to happen. He can’t believe it until he looks up and sees you pulling your phone out from your pocket. He watches your happy mood, turn to confusion and then disgust. He watches your eyes scan the bar, looking for him. Stopping when you see him, giving him a dirty look. Ghost and Soap are sat next to him laughing so hard they’re close to tears.

Konig has always had this weird protectiveness over you but this takes the cake. You shove your phone in your pocket, deciding it’s best to ignore him. Obviously he’s drunk and they’re all playing a joke on you. You try to pretend like nothing happened.

The recruit you were once flirting with now gone after noticing your change in mood. This brings a smile to Konigs face, starting to wonder if maybe Ghost and Soap know what they’re talking about after all. It worked, it got your attention and now the recruit left you alone.

“What now?” He asks, expecting guidance from his friends.

“Here gimme your phone.” Soap says and Konig doesn’t argue this time, letting them help him. The three crowd around his phone, constructing the perfect text. A few moments later your phone goes off again.

K: ”Good girl.”

The scoff that leaves your mouth is loud enough for him to hear from across the bar, you refuse to turn his way this time. Unaware of the fact that Ghost and Soap are drunkenly helping Konig construct these texts to you. This time you respond.

”Why do you care what I do?”

Ghost and Soap cheer as the text comes in, already planning their next message. As Konig watches in anticipation, too drunk to realize he shouldn’t be allowing this. That maybe his two friends don’t actually have his best interest at heart. More concerned with watching Konig making a fool out of himself.

K: “Because you belong only to me! Do I make myself clear?”

”Since when?”

K: “Since now. Because we say so!”

”And what if I don’t want to be yours? Do I get a say in this?”

K: “No.”

”if you’re being serious, this is not the way to go about it. this is not making me want you more.”

K: “you love it. I don’t want u to like me we want u to love me bc I need me.”

”then stop being a giant dick head.”

You type the last message out and it hits you, why are you having this conversation over text? You shut your phone off, putting it away. Standing up from where your sat and heading to the bar. Some of your friends gathered around it. They’re all chatting away, unaware of your arrival. Doesn’t matter much because you’re not mentally there in the moment. You mind racing trying to understand where this is coming from. Aware of English not being his first language but that doesn’t make his use of ‘we’ make any sense.

While you’re trying to make sense of this situation Konig is being hyped up to approach you. Ghost and Soap filling him with more advice that isn’t going to help in the end. Just trying to get him to say some out of pocket things to you, try and get a reaction out of you for their own viewing pleasure.

You can see out of the corner of your eye Konig walking over, he’s very imposing, a mountain of a man, and he seems determined. He stands next to you, in front of the bar, his eyes lock onto your eyes, he doesn’t say anything for quite a while. As if he’s trying to find the words to say. Suddenly not nearly as confident as he was over text. Eventually you’re the one to speak up.

“What do you want?” You question.

“I want you. You belong to me and only me.” He says, voice shaky not conveying that he even believes it.

“Whatever this is you’re doing. It’s not cute. Quit being an asshole.” You respond, waving your hands in his direction. He looks at you, he doesn’t understand why you are still standing here despite him acting like a total ass. He sighs, and lowers his gaze.

“Süss, I am being mean to you because I need to show that I am dominant, and you need to be dominated. Do you understand?” He explains, reiterating Soap and Ghosts advice.

“Where did you hear this?” You ask and watch as his eyes flicker to where Ghost and Soap are sat. You follow his gaze to find them sat at their table, the two of them doing a terrible job at pretending to not be listening. Avoiding your eyes, only to return theirs when you look back at Koing and away from them. This whole incident starting to make sense.

“If I don’t dominate you, someone else will, süss.” He adds with confidence. It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes at his archaic way of thinking. That was obviously inspired by his friends to make him look like an asshole.

“Don’t you like when I tell you what to do?” He asks, his face falling to confusion. Unsure why his friends would lead him astray.

“No. Konig I don’t.” You respond flatly.

“I thought you would be into that? A dominant man who’s in charge of you?” He questions, genuinely wondering. You look up the man, trying to decide how to react. You think about how Ghost and Soap are expecting a negative reaction from you. You decide to not give them what they want. He waits for an answer.

“No. If anything I like to be in charge.” You finally respond, barley a whisper to not give the peanut gallery the slightest idea of your reaction. As you say this you move your hand to his chest. His eyes widen when you touch him.

"You...want...to be in charge?” He says slowly, you just obliterated every thing his friends said about you. Leaving the man more confused than he’s ever been. The thought of you taking charge, making a heat grow inside him.

“Mhmm I like my men to beg.” You say, shocked as the words come out. It’s not a lie but usually you aren’t so forward with this information but it’s obvious this man is an idiot when it comes to you. Getting a strong feeling that he’d do anything you’d ask, the thought fueling your ego.

"You...you want men...to beg?” His voice has a slight tremble in it, it seems like he's getting more and more excited.

"Beg for what?" He asks.

“For a taste.” You smirk, moving closer to him. His face turns red, he looks like a school boy, the excitement and heat is undeniable. He can't seem to control his facial expression and his voice, it's hard to describe, but he looks like he's very close to melting.

"Süss, please…” His voice is barely a whisper now, his eyes are glued onto your lips.

“Nuh uh, after the bull shit you made me endure with those texts from your friends. I think you can do better than that.” You demand, your serious tone letting him know you mean business.

"Bitte süss… please..” He's whispering, begging for you to give him what he wants. You look up at this man, he towers over you yet he’s the one begging. He leans down, getting closer to you.

“Pretty please, süss, I need you.” His voice is quivering, it's almost hard for him to get the words out. He’s never done anything like this before but for you he would learn to enjoy it. You let him stand there for a few moments, letting him think about what he’s doing before you close the distance. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, only allowing it to go on for a few seconds.

The moment your lips touch each others, a flood of emotion and heat rushed through both of your bodies. Time stops, and his breathing starts to become irregular, he's breathing in and out heavily, he's growing excited. He finally understood what you meant by "a taste."

"You...you taste...so sweet..." His voice is still quivering, and his hands are still grabbing your body, showing that he still wants more. He was right about how easy it’d be to fall for you because all it took was one kiss and now he’s imagining all the things he’d do for another one.

“See what is possible when you stop being an asshole?” You tease.

“You like this…You like when I’m not an ass…and when I’m nice to you…?” He ask, trying to process everything, he can barely speak now.

“Yeah. So stop listening to your stupid friends.”

"If I am being honest, I was just trying to be mean to get your attention…” He admits.

“That’s not how you get a girl’s attention.”

"I hope you can please forgive me for being a jerk. May I ask for your forgiveness, süss?" He's still holding onto you, he seems to want to be as close to you as he can, he can't let go of you.

“Yeah I can.” You smile.

"Thank you for forgiving me, süss. Please kiss me again, it'll make me feel better." He has a cute, sincere smile on his face now, and it's hard to deny that you like him now, he did everything to impress you, even if he's still very clumsy with his words.

“If you want a kiss, you know what to do.” You say with a grin, which results in a sigh from him. Knowing exactly what you want and ready to give in.

"Pretty please, süss, ich brauche es..." He says this desperately, he really wants you to kiss him again.

It crosses his mind that he’s going to beg on his knees if this continues. He’d do it if you asked even in front of all these people. It’s a rare sight to see him like this, your emotions are going wild, all this begging seems to do something to you. You grab his face bring him down to your level, kissing him slowly. His hands further wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Yor hear the sound of Ghost and Soap cheering you two on. Mid kiss you flip them off, causing their cheers to grow mixing with laughter.

[theonewhospeaksinweird]

💜Protection (Charlotte Katakuri x Female!Reader) Pt. 1💜

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted) 

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal 

I'm sorry to anyone who has tried to request a story from me since I started writing here, but I was going through some things with school, graduating, and getting my life ready for adulting.~ I also got married, and am moving with my husband!~ And now I'm back with a self-indulgent story for my favorite character from One Piece, Charlotte Katakuri!~ Enjoy!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

Nervousness seeped into my bones as I tried to calm myself. Gardening the castle grounds wasn't necessary, but I had nothing else to do with my anxious hands, so I tended to the house and my personal garden with them. I had already tried to sit down and read a book in our room, but seeing the bed reminded me of the moment I shared with my husband this morning. For once, that was what I was trying to distract myself from right now, and my husband was the source of my mounting anxieties.

"Why do you have to go today?" This variation of my needlessly repetitive daily question slipped from my lips as I breathed in his sweet scent. One I felt the need to ask every morning as if he would choose to stay in bed with me all day rather than do his job. Sometimes I, selfishly, wish he would stay, but I'd never make him choose. The devotion to his family that he shows every moment of the day is one of the many things that made me fall in love with him, after all. Even if it's clear that this duty takes a hefty toll on his body and mind, I still support him in every endeavor he chooses.

His morning voice rumbled more than usual, and it made me press further into his warm, enveloping skin under the covers as we whispered sleepily to each other. The bliss of our intimacy alone had me never wanting to leave my paramount husband's side. His arms were so immense and encompassing, and I was so small and protected. Never fearing anything but the absence of my husband. A deep sigh from him lifted me up and down on his chest as he came to a clearer consciousness.

"It's my duty, love, you know that." His beautiful incisors gently grazed my head as he spoke, entertaining my usual silly question of worry. Butterflies still tickled my stomach at the endearment he addressed me as, even after three years of marriage. Those flutters overwhelmed me with a wave of adoration for my giant lover. Of course, I believed in my husband's strength, I've seen what he is capable of firsthand multiple times.

If this were almost any other pirate crew member his mother was executing, I wouldn't be worried, but this was one of the worst generation's crew members, Black Leg Sanji of the Strawhat Pirates, so I couldn't help but fret a little. There wasn’t anyone on the Grand Line that had not heard of this infamous crew that had done the impossible over and over. And that was all before they disappeared for two years, presumed to be disbanded after a disheartening defeat at both Sabaody and Marineford. Who knew how much stronger they were after all this time. All of that didn’t even include the superhuman abilities of Germa 66 that were sure to turn on us the moment the betrayal registered.

Letting out a small hum, I attempted to dispel the worry from my thoughts so I could relish the last half hour I had with my husband for this morning before he went off to put himself in harm's way. For his family. For me. My droopy eyes opened slowly to see the hidden beauty of my husband that only I was allowed to gaze upon. From his beautiful, pearly teeth to his peaceful face that also only seemed to be reserved for my presence. The sharp, masculine lines of his face seemed softened, especially his arched eyebrows that were always furrowed when he was around anyone. Anyone except me, that is. My significantly smaller thumb brushed along his rough scar, making him shudder as he too opened his worn eyes filled with adoration the same as mine. Our equally sleepy eyes met as I continued to caress his momentary tenseness and my worry away.

I gave him a soft smile as I leaned in closer to nom his nose playfully, my lips covering my teeth. Technically, I could bite it off, but he currently seemed to be too sleepy to regrow it. A smile of his own upturned the corners of his mouth, making me undeniably happy and let slip a few giggles. Even though I've seen it multiple times before, it still makes me giddy to know that I make him smile. My tittering was joined by his rumble of a chuckle as we cuddled impossibly closer, his strong arms enveloping my person tighter than before. A comfortable silence cocooned us as we soaked in each other's care.

It was only about us right now.

Mirth had me smiling to myself as I absentmindedly caressed sugary dirt off of a fully grown candy corn on the cob, just like I had his cheek. A gentle but chilling breeze brought me back to the present, and my smile fell away as I automatically looked towards the nearby main island of Whole Cake. My soft blue antennas and small white wings swayed in the wind as I sighed and stood up to head inside with my now full basket of candy veggies.

Looking up at the pink cotton candy clouds I've grown used to, they were a far cry from the white and pristine ones I grew up on. As a fallen Skypeian, it was still odd for me to be looking up at the clouds rather than being in them. My abnormal antennas gifted me abilities similar to that of a Devil Fruit power, though the sea does not scorn me for mine. With the power to read and gently influence people's emotions, as well as view their memories when I touch them, it was hard to live blissfully unaware of things when they affected someone's emotions. When my emotions rise, so does the sensitivity of my gift, therefore, when going out in public, I wear silk gloves. Katakuri does a lot with helping me manage my emotions in public, but it's nice to have a backup aid. If only he were here now.

By the time I was done cleaning the candy veggies and storing them, my worries had soared to new heights, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Even though it was senseless, I rushed to our room, and quickly put on a yellow tulle, knee length dress while pocketing my white silk gloves before leaving through the back door. The front and sides were guarded by Cracker's biscuit soldiers that he offered for extra protection this morning. Upon opening the door, I was immediately met with the hollow, smiling faces of about ten homies which made me shudder. Not because I was scared of them, but because I knew what kept them alive.

After marrying Katakuri, I eventually confronted him with my experiences of seeing human memories when touching Homies around the kingdom, and he reluctantly explained. The truth drew me into a mournful stupor, heartbroken for all of the stolen life forces constrained to these obedient slaves. This depth of my sorrow had me distancing myself in a separate room for a week until I calmed down. Any person that came near me was overwhelmed with sobs as I was, except Katakuri whose eyes only watered. Katakuri sent away his Homies for me to feel comfortable, and brought in human staff to replace them, but I still avoid Homies as much as I can when we go to other islands.

"Hello, Miss Y/N! Where are you rushing off to in a hurry? Katakuri-Sama appointed us to join you if you decided to leave the grounds!" Spoke one cheerfully. These weren't like normal Homies, as they were made out of Katakuri's mochi, yet the familiar material did nothing to quell my uneasiness. The sentiment he put forth in this change touched me nonetheless since I knew he only wanted to protect me.

I tried not to look into any of their soulless eyes, which made it slightly easier when I quickly reached my bare hands forward to tap two of the Homies and activate their locked away memories. With this trick I learned from Pudding, I made quick work of the rest of them, stunning them into a melancholic stupor as I ran past and into the tree line before one of the biscuit guards could come. A shudder wracked my body as I tried to shake away the memories of those stolen lives plaguing my thoughts now. I ignored it, like Katakuri taught me, and focused on my end goal.

It was a short jog to the edge of the juice sea ebbing on the cake donut shore where my own personal boat sat anchored. With it being relatively small, the force of me hopping onto it jolted it forward a little, and I raised the anchor before starting the engine. My hands twisted on the tiller, (Tiller: The steering stick on an outboard motor engine) making the engine roar up louder as I steered towards the mistily hidden island of Whole Cake. As I flew across the violet juice, my left hand fingered the ever-present mochi bead bracelet around my right wrist that I had forgotten in my emotional frenzy.

"Do you have to go?" The first time I'd ever asked that silly question. My quiet voice matched the dewy expression I wore as I watched my handsomely half naked husband brush his teeth in the bathroom a few feet away. Those entrancing magenta eyes, normally sharp but now softened and puttying even further as they meet mine, traced my partially covered body before sighing and spitting. My antennae matched the striking pink of his eyes.

He finished his bathroom routine before lumbering over to me and taking a knee to nuzzle his face into mine. I gladly welcomed the unabashed affection, softly kissing his parted lips in return. He hadn't even begun to be this close until a year into our marriage which was two months ago, so I welcomed it all. My hands traced the defined yet soft muscles along his chest as I tried to memorize every dip and line his body made in response to years of rigorous training. A shiver slips down my spine as his large teeth gently graze my soft lips engaging his in a deeper kiss. The kiss ends just as I was starting to tug him back into the bed by his neck, his large hands stopping his descent by holding onto the edge of the bed. With a pout, I stubbornly hung onto his neck as he sat back up until one of his large hands gently tried to tug me away.

When I did finally relent, I could see my red-faced husband bashfully averting his eyes, causing me to giggle and lie back down a little more satisfied than before. He used one hand to cover as much of his face as possible, and the other he outstretched towards me. I sat up again to look at his bare hand, about to place my own in it until little balls of mochi started to float up into the air. About twenty of them were created before they spun around and arranged into a bracelet. The newly formed piece of pristine white jewelry fell back into his large hand soundlessly.

I was already in awe of the delicate display of his powers, but upon realizing that the creation was for me, I was hesitant to take it. Stealing a glance up at him, he motioned to the bracelet with his eyes while still sporting a red, yet now uncovered, face. With his extra prompting, I gingerly took the bracelet. The instant I did, I felt an overwhelming wave of love tainted with anxiousness flood my body, making my wings flutter and antennas glow a deep reddish pink. The inevitable smile creeps onto my face, exploding into a wide grin and an unstoppable flurry of giggles. At hearing my unadulterated laughter, Katakuri starts to chuckle with me and leans in to nuzzle his nose against my neck.

"Now you'll always have a piece of me with you, and I'll always feel your heartbeat to know you are well. Perhaps this will bring both of us some peace of mind." He rumbled in my ear before slowly pulling away. This time I don't try to pull him back, but still begrudgingly watch him stand up to his full height. While maintaining eye contact, I put on the bracelet and rub it against my cheek. A thrum of arousal rings from it into my warm cheek, which blossoms a devious smile on my face as my antennae's red overtakes the pink.

"I think this'll do a few more things than that.~"

A particularly rough wave jolts me to the floor of my white boat, making the engine idle and the boat cruise without my steadying hand. Through my wall of worries, I hadn't focused on the bracelet, the window into my partner's soul. Wanting the bracelets to be a two-way street of emotional clarity, I had Katakuri make himself another and infused it with my powers so he could feel my emotions too. Now crouched down in the bottom of the boat, I clutched the bracelet to my chest and breathed in a few calming breaths. Bump. A dash of anxiety, always present despite his cool exterior. Bump Bump. Swirls of skepticism, he's people watching. Ba Dump Dum. My cheeks heat up as the dominating warmth of love spreads through me. Love was the best emotion to feel from him. I used his calm emotions to steady my own but felt bad that he's had to deal with all of my topsy turvy ones, as usual. He and I were complete opposites.

Now with more peace, I returned to the tiller and, with a softer twist, continued my trek towards Whole Cake. The closer I got, the stronger myriad of emotions I could sense from my bracelet. Nervousness is stronger, tense pulses of exploration followed by a ripple of anger. He's using his Observation Haki and what he sees is not good. At this revelation, the moment my boat hits the shore of Whole Cake, I'm up and running towards the looming chateau that stands in the middle of the city.

I can hear a faint rumbling, even from the edge of the city, which makes my stomach turn in an ocean of my worst fears. I can see a giant wedding cake up at the very top where Big Mom always has her tea parties, and it seemed like it was . . . crumbling? Running all the way from the shore to the center of town, I joined the townspeople in staring up at the top of the chateau in horror. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as feelings of annoyance edging on ire came from Katakuri.

If what I think is happening, is happening, then all the townspeople will soon be in danger. Mama has been raving about that wedding cake ever since she decided to "marry off" Pudding, and it's been in production for weeks now. If Mama doesn't eat that cake, she's going to have hunger pains and won't stop until a new one is remade. Which means I have my work cut out for me. Despite this acceptance of my duties for today, that didn't get rid of the fearful lilac filing my antennae. The townspeople started to murmur nervously to themselves about what was happening, and finally noticed I was among them.

"Lady Y/N! Do you know what is happening?"

"Miss Y/N, please tell us what is happening at Miss Pudding's wedding!" These first outcries were followed by a cacophony of worried voices that flooded my ears. After a few moments of trying to get my bearings, the yelling became too much. The mixture of my heightening panic, the thrum of my husband's own elevated emotions and the frenzy of the growing crowd exhausted me. The clear lilac muddied into brown.

"I. . ." A pulse of simmering anger from my bracelet makes me gasp before I could give the citizens a proper answer. The continual rumbling of the cake chateau made me uneasy, and I'd rather be safe than sorry about the townspeople's safety. Pushing out of the crowd, I ran over to a Homie guard.

"Miss Y/N, is something-?" Before he could finish, I cut him off with a frantic answer.

"We need to evacuate the city, Mama's cake is falling and Katakuri is fighting someone, that can only mean that the Strawhats are up there! It'll only be a matter of time before Mama starts her hunger pain, even if the Strawhats are defeated. We can't let the citizens get in the way. Tell everyone to evacuate as soon as possible!" The guard nodded obediently and ran off to spread the news. I was running in the opposite direction, back towards the chateau, yelling for people to evacuate, and trying to ignore the emotions flooding my senses as my husband expressed his rising anger and frustration.

I knew he should've stayed at home in bed with me this morning.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

It didn't take long for the townspeople to catch wind of the evacuation warning, and soon the usually bustling capital of Totto Land was desolate. Everyone knew the dangerous nature of Mama's hunger pain rampages, and that drove them to leave as soon as possible. Before I could think of what to do next, a surprising yet fleeting emotion dripped icily into my veins from my husband: fear. It was fleeting, but I've never seen or felt my husband fear anything or anyone, though I didn't have to wait long for the cause of it.

A large explosion sounded off at the base of the whole cake chateau, washing a wave of heat and debris over me as I crouched down and covered my head with my hands. Light purple lit up my face as I pushed my antennae down against my head as well. My heart pounded out of my chest as I stayed down until the wind died. A horrible groaning and cracking noise resounded around me from the chateau, urging me to look up at the damage done.

The entire chateau was falling towards me.

An undeniable fear of my own clawed out of my chest as I stood up and started to sprint away from the falling structure. My lungs struggled to keep up with my frantic breaths as I focused on staying upright and dodging continuously falling debris. As I ran, I tried to look back towards the top of the crashing structure to see if I could spot anyone, but after almost getting crushed and tripping a few times, I decided to focus on my escape first. Despite my best efforts and no matter how hard I ran, the shadow of the chateau never seemed to leave my figure. Hopelessness dragged down my tiring body, painting my antennae a dreary gray.

'I'm not going to make it. Why did I come here? I should've just stayed at home like Katakuri told me to, Katakuri is always right! Stupid, stupid! Now he'll blame himself if I die here! He'll work himself even harder!' Tears began to waver my sight, and stream down my sweaty, dirty cheeks as I kept pushing my legs harder and harder. I could hear the crashing of larger debris behind me, and even though it scared me, I started to slow down until I dropped to my knees. Each breath seemed like it wasn't enough, especially as I kept crying under the looming shadow of the chateau.

Trembling on the ground, I threw my head back to stare up at my inevitable fate, only to face a large chunk of sponge cake falling towards me. Everything seemed to slow down as my wonderful life in the past three years with Katakuri flashed through my mind. I didn't want to die. Didn't want to leave him.

"If you ever need me, just call out my name, and I'll come to you no matter where I am. I will always protect you." Katakuri's promise from all those years ago resounded in my mind.

Clenching my eyes, I let out the loudest yell I could muster.

"KATAKURI, PLEASE PROTECT ME!! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!"

I felt a surprising surge of energy burst through my tired body as I screamed out and waited to either be swept off my feet by my husband or crushed. All I felt was an even greater fatigue. What a pitiful way to die on the Grand Line. 'I'm sorry, Katakuri.' After a few hard beats of my heart pounding against my ribcage, and neither of those things happening, I cracked my eyes open to look at what had happened. It took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing through bleary eyes, but even when I wiped them what I saw confused me.

The first thing I noticed was white. At a glance, I thought it was the familiar mochi of my husband who came to save me, but realized this was definitely different once my mind cleared. A buzzing bubble surrounded me like a shield, and it was deathly quiet. 'Did someone else make this, or. . . is this me. . ?' Nothing was heard other than my labored breaths. I saw the large piece of sponge cake that had been hurtling towards me moments ago nearby on the ground in smaller pieces. The second thing I noticed was that the entire cake chateau had been turned into real sponge cake, and heavy cream was spilling its way towards me. Not a moment after this fearful realization did my bubble shatter.

All the sound that had been blocked out by it came rushing back all at once. The gushing of heavy cream, settling of debris, groaning from the buildings that were supporting the now sponge cake chateau, and a few pained groans from nearby. Despite all the noise, there was one noise that made my breath hitch as I turned towards it.

The sound of spurs.

I saw my mountain of a husband, Katakuri, running towards me rapidly with Daifuku and Oven close behind.

"Y/N!" He yelled as he got to me, my arms already raised and ready for him to pick me up, which is exactly what he did. Faint yellow relief filled me.

"Katakuri! I'm sorry I left the house, I should have stayed home, but I was worried, and I felt your emotions and, and-" I couldn't even finish my sentence before I was breaking down into tears as all the stuff that had happened so quickly washed over me. Everything was a mess, I was a mess, and I almost died. He held me so close and tight in his large, strong arms, pressing my body into his heaving chest, and head into his scarf. My hands slipped under his scarf so I could wrap my arms around his bare neck and ground myself in his contact. I could feel the fast thumping of his heartbeat against my own pounding chest as he tried to futilely hide the fact that he was shaken up.

No doubt when he heard me scream his name a few moments ago, he looked into the future and saw me about to be crushed by a cake. We both just relished each other's safety for a few moments, his mouth nuzzling its way to my cheek in his scarf. The shakiness of his breath made me whimper and cry a little more. We stayed like this before he gently tugged me away from his comforting body after we had mostly calmed down. His crimson eyes were imperceptibly watery as they searched my face and body for any injuries. Normally furrowed eyebrows were upturned in worry.

"Why are you-? No, first, are you okay? I didn't think I was going to make it in time. I saw the cake, and then a flash of white, I thought-" He abruptly stopped that line of thinking along with his fast breaths that were edging on hyperventilating. He quieted and focused on catching his breath as he studied me. I couldn't look him in the eye for long as guilt wracked my body for making my husband feel so worried about me. A few sniffles are all that sounded from me as I let him cycle through his emotions to calm down. Katakuri saw my reluctance to look at him straight, sighed, and brought me back towards him. My forehead touched his as one of his gloved hands lifted to my chin and redirected my averted gaze up to his worried pools of magenta. There was no anger, just concern and fear, even though he had every right to feel angry with me. This softness was something I only saw when we were alone, and it just broke me again. Tears quickly filled my eyes as I nodded in response to his second question.

"I-I'm fine. I don't know what happened with the- the cake and the forcefield. I'm sorry I left the house, but I was just so worried about you, and I couldn't help myself! And when I got on the island, I heard Mama screaming and you felt angry, and then the cake fell, and I evacuated everyone, but then the chateau fell and-" It was a wonder if he could understand my blubbering as I gestured wildly around us to the mess everywhere, but he let me go on until I ran out of breath. He just stood there, listening, and rubbing his thumb along my cheek to wipe away the tears.

"Anything else, love?"

A blush warmed my cheeks at his soft tone and pet name, but nodded, nonetheless. It wasn't a condescending question, he just wanted to make sure I was getting everything out. Despite causing trouble because I disobeyed him, he still wanted to make sure I was well. Another rumbling hum resonated in his broad chest as he studied my tear-stained face, dirtied yellow dress and flushed face. This softened his gaze even further as he felt regret at my sullied state.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I don't know what I would do without you, Y/N, and I would rather not think about it. Although you did disobey me and slipped past the many Homies I had stationed around our home to try to prevent this very event from happening," I winced guiltily under his momentarily scolding gaze, "I am, nonetheless, happy that you came, and are safe. Your kindness knows no bounds, and I feel unworthy of such a display of love, yet I humbly accept it." His last sentence was quieter than the rest of his gentle scolding, still aware of his brothers nearby helping the rest of his siblings up from the rubble.

A wobbly smile tugged at my lips as new tears stung my eyes and I nodded. The warmth of our shared love for each other in this mess transitioned my relieved yellow to a lovingly deep pink.

"You're the one who's kindness is endless. I didn't listen to you about staying home and caused you extra stress. You should be furious with me, but you just care about me being safe. I have no one to blame for my state except myself, Kata, and you know it. None of this is your fault. And of course, you're worthy of my love, we've been over this, silly. You deserve the world, especially with everything you do for your family, and for me. I would do anything to ensure your safety, just as you do for us." I wanted to give him a kiss on the lips, but we were in public, so I just settled for giving him a lingering kiss between his eyebrows. He seemed to relax a little at this gesture, taking my return compliment well. Before either of us could say anything more, a shrill and angered voice called out for my darling love.

"Big brother Katakuri! What are we going to do about this mess, and all the traitors and intruders?! We have no time to just stand around!" It was Mont d'Or screaming and being followed by what looked like a giant chicken man in a familiar pink suit, Brulee, Compote and a few other higher ranking Charlotte siblings. Katakuri's tender face of worry hardened back to his serious one, which saddened me that our moment was already over. Duty calls, though, and I was used to it by now.

Katakuri made no move to put me down yet, so I just let out a soft sigh and leaned into his scarf to rest for a little. He finally turned around to face his oncoming siblings, and a few were surprised to see me in his hold. The first person to speak up about it was Brulee who walked forward with concern written all over her long face.

"Y/N-nii! What are you doing here? You look a mess, are you okay?" Everyone expressed different levels of concern over my state, but before I could say anything for myself, Katakuri spoke up for me.

"She was worried about Pudding's wedding, so she came to make sure everything was fine, but got a little caught up in some of the chateau's destruction. She's fine now." Katakuri's firm voice left no more room for questions, so everyone accepted this answer. I didn't look at anyone in particular, opting to just stay snuggled in the soft fabric of my husband's scarf.

Everyone started to talk about the attacks on the chateau, but I was only partially listening. I was staring absently at the ground, in thought, when a long pink and black, twisted lollipop invaded my vision. I perked up a little at the offering, looking past it to a smiling Perospero who gave me a little wink when my gaze fully met his. With a little giggle, I took the treat and began to suck on it as I settled back against Katakuri. He didn't say anything about it, but I could feel his cheeks shift under his scarf in a smile which had me glancing up at him with a small smile of my own.

Once again, our moment was broken by someone yelling, but this time it was Daifuku directing troops. From what I had heard snippets of, the explosion on the chateau was still unknown, the bird man was somehow Tamago based on how he was talking, Strawhat Luffy and his allies had caused a lot of damage, Jinbei announced his resignation to join the Strawhats and Capone Bege had betrayed us to help the Strawhats assassinate Big Mom. The last piece of information was a disappointment but not a surprise. Katakuri had always had his suspicions on Bege's loyalty. Jinbei, though, was more saddening.

Ever since Whitebeard died, he was quick to ally with Big Mom to protect Fishman Island from pirates. He only visited the chateau when Big Mom called him, and rarely came to Komugi Island unless it had something to do with Katakuri. Nevertheless, the times he accepted my invitation to tea when he was around, he was kind, respectful and a joyful company to have. He didn't disclose any sensitive information outside of personal information, but I'm sure he was being reasonably cautious since I was married to Katakuri. One might think he was just nice to me because of my relations to one of Big Mom's highest-ranking members, but I like to think he genuinely enjoyed our time together as I did.

"Brulee, come with me. I'm going after Strawhat." Katakuri demanded, and as Brulee agreed and started to rant about what they put her through, I could feel Katakuri's anger rising high as he listened to his sister. The development made me a little nervous because the higher strung his emotions were in a fight, the more likely he was to slip up.

"I will personally make sure he is stopped. Not only has he destroyed our kingdom, put the family in imminent danger and tried to assassinate Mama, but", his grip tightened on me, "he almost caused serious harm to my wife. I must stop him here before he becomes a bigger threat to Mama later on." His protectiveness over everyone, especially me, had me blushing as butterflies tickled my stomach. Though, the thought of him getting hurt on our behalf churned my stomach over the butterflies.

This pirate had managed this much damage, even if he did have some powerful allies to aid him. Either he was as strong as his bounty suggested, or this was all pure luck. Even if Strawhat Luffy lived up to his current bounty, it was still only half of Katakuri's which totaled in at a billion berries. I had done enough doubting of him today, so I tried to quell the growing uneasiness that colored my antennae a lime green.

Just as Katakuri prepared to put me down to leave with Brulee, a loud rumbling and sounds of massive destruction caught everyone's attention. Soon thereafter, Smoothie was running towards us, urging us to do the same. If she was this frantic, that could only mean one thing: Mama's hunger pains had started.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

Wah!~ Okay, sooo this turned into something WAY longer than I expected it to be, so I split it up!~ The scene I started this story in mind with can be reached in two parts.~ The second part is mostly done already, but now I kind of want to have another part for just pure fluff and maybe a little somethingggggg, I don't know!~ I'll decide when I get the planned parts out and see how they do and how I feel, I suppose.~ Take care, dearies!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

𝖔𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗𝖘 | 𝖗𝖞𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆 | 𝖎. 𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊

A.N. welcome to the first installment of my horror series! i hope you enjoy it and look forward to the rest of the month! cant wait to hear yalls feedback and thoughts!

WORD COUNT. 1065 words

WARNINGS. cannibalism, obsessions, obsessive love, mentions of cooked human flesh, yandere themes, non-con, horror

Please remember my blog is 18+ only, and does not cater, nor encourage, minors to interact. Minors are NOT welcome to interact with my works or blogs, as they contain mature content.

[ OCTOBER HORRORS MASTERLIST ]

got any requests? want more horror? wanna see a prompt for a different character? feel free to check out my [ HORROR SENTENCE THEMES ]

i. cleave. ryomen sukuna. jujutsu kaisen.

Cleave (捌はち Hachi?): A slashing attack that adjusts itself depending on the target's toughness and cursed energy level to cut them down in one fell swoop.

Dismantle (解カイ Kai?): Default slashing attack that is normally used for inanimate objects, however it can also be used against cursed spirits and sorcerers to great effectiveness.

一cleave and dismantle, sukuna, powers and abilities, jjk wiki

The King of Curses is not a kind, or empathetic building, finding humanity to be nothing other than a resource he can take and consume as he pleases. He hungers for the flesh of women and children, smites men for the pleasure of his power and the cravings for a mere display, holds an authority of a near-god and yet there are still those who wish to challenge him, foolishly, is to be added.

He picks at his teeth with a bone, broken, small and curved. You can only infer it’s from a larger one, a rib, you gather. Sukuna has overtaken Yuji once again, speaking their vow into existence at the worst time, and he’s lost himself in the glee and pleasures of the human body and what it offers to him.

Bones are scattered around the area as he lounges on a bed, hidden in one of the larger buildings, his cups and plates overfilled by his devout followers from times long gone. The area is dark and lit with lanterns, the air is dry and leaves your mouth watering, the stench of death and charred pork allows the bile to rise.

It was not pork.

You curse to yourself silently, eyes meeting the dual set of your lost friend, and the tears start behind your eyes. His features changed, you noted. The soft angle of his jaw is sharper, thicker, making his face wider than the young man's slimmer look. Large eyes have narrowed, making room for his extra set of eyes, his brows thinned and his cheek bones have lowered.

“Young one, you’ve interrupted my time alone, and leave me wondering what exactly you want from me… would you care to explain yourself?” His tone is musical, he entertains himself as you shake ever so slightly, he is fond of the soul that your body hosts, the long forgotten original he yearns to experience once again.

“Sukuna, the others are coming soon, and your time with Yuji is almost up.” You attempt to remain steady, your finger twitching in anticipation as your heart races, loud and thundering in your ears. Sweat beads at your scalp, above your brow, the heat in your neck and chest cause your anxiety to rise against the chill of your back and legs. Your voice was strong and steady, but your body language spoke otherwise, even as you stood as straight as you could.

“You’ve come to warn me, why is that?” He muses, grinning as he takes in the scent of your fear into account, he was fond of you for many reasons, of the memory you ignited in his head, and the way you act now. Small, soft, and your smell-

The smell of the most delectable meal he could have,

Sukuna was unwanted, an unloved, and unbearable being for the entirety of his human life, only respected and wanted for his power and authority once he had rebuilt himself after his death.

He remembered your face, the foreigner who came such a long way from home, a traveler who wanted to master their power and energy. He remembered your face, your hair, your eyes, your body. Gods, the body he held for so long, the body he gripped at and took many times, the body he admired and cared for, that he broke and rebuilt over and over.

The soul that came with the body was even more tantalizing, he drooled as you spoke and commanded others, watched with captured eyes as you entertained the young ones and the elderly, listened intently to the stories and knowledge from your tales from afar. He wanted everything, he wanted you so much then, so much he wanted to hold you close and press him to his skin. 

He wanted you closer, to crawl inside your skin and lay inside you, to crack your chest open and curl up in the warmth and the wetness inside, to taste the innermost parts of you and merge your being into his. 

His stomach turns at the thought, and he realizes he's okay with making a sacrifice just this once- to give into his urges just this once. He yearns to be with you, again, forever. Until your soul incarnates and your body comes back again.

Again.

You’ll come back again, he can’t allow you to leave, into the arms of another, even if he possesses the body of the boy.

“Because you still have Yuji's body, and I can’t let anything happen to him, to… you.” You answered, his blood pressure rises, adrenaline rushes through his body at that answer, he doesn’t care for the damned brat, he actively ignores that part, he only hears how you care for him.

For him.

Sukuna. 

He’s seen once again, he groans, empties his hands and stands up. Your guard is down and you relax slightly, he grins behind his poker face, and as you go to turn, finished with your discussion, you do not have time to comprehend his words.

“I’ll have you, just this once.” He stares, a hand gesture later, and your body splits at the joints, cut cleanly and thinly. You fall to the floor, and the scent he’s yearned for fills the air, he wants more and sticks his tongue out to lick the air.

His strides are long, confident, yet quick. Almost like a child running to his parents for a treat, a malicious giggle escapes him, and he licks his lips before bending over to pick your head up from the pile of freshly cut flesh. Your eyes have rolled back, gone before you could realize what happened, and his hands are gentle against the warm skin of your cheeks.

“All to myself, yes, this’ll do.” He’s softer now, bringing your head to his, a small kiss to your lips before holding it closely to his chest. He takes a deep breath, eyes dilated, before he calls for his long time friend.

What a delectable meal.

[leggerefiore]

Since you seem to be doing a lot of villain posting, how about this: Villains of your choice with an S/O that fully supports their evil team's goals. Why S/O would feel this way is up to you, but they don't think their lover needs to change; the world does.

nssnns in a way I think I established that with Maxie's and Archie's s/os but not as strongly

cw: supporting these dudes at their worst, angst in lysandre's and cyrus's parts,

characters: Lysandre, Cyrus, Maxie, Archie

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ He was aware his ideals were difficult for most to comprehend. Like a strong brew of coffee, most could not bear the intensity of what he believed was best for the world. The Kalosian man simply could not allow for things to continue as they were, however. Greedy, cruel people sought to harm other people and pokemon; to take away the beauty of this world he felt so passionately about. It only made sense that with his passion you, his partner, were well aware of his plans. You were second only to him in Team Flare, even. Even Malva did not dare argue against you, lest she risk the ire of a certain giant.

☕️ The discussion of his plans was something he did without any concerns of your rejecting them. Lysandre had been with you for so long and felt certain that you would understand his ideals even if no one else could. He needed to preserve this world's beauty by committing the ultimate sacrifice. There would be no more struggling over resources, nor would those with ill intentions exist to cause further harm. It would be an unfortunate burden on him forever, however.

☕️ The manner which you came to feel this way may not have been entirely known to Lysandre, but he had heard many different reasons from his members to have an idea. There was an urge to pry into it from him, curious as to what had hurt you so deeply as your caring lover, but he resisted. Forcing one to recount painful things was not something he wished to do. Yet, knowing that something out there had caused you such grave pain spurred him deeper into his plans and ideals. For you, he would easily set the world aflame.

☕️ Admittedly, you have very little to do with the reawakening of the ancient weapon. Team Flare's scientists were the ones who tirelessly worked to bring it out. You, however, were there to comfort and console him through the ups and downs of his operations. Your unwavering support and reassurance made the burden of what he would have to do a bit lighter. It was not long until Geosenge was a mess as the ultimate weapon bloomed in its centre. His hand grasped your own as he watched from the lab. Soon, everything would change forever.

☕️ When everything failed, it felt as if the world had ended for you, but no one else. Lysandre left to unknown status in the rubble of the laboratory as you were forced to live in the world that viewed him as a madman of horrid ideals. Team Flare was remarked a horrible stain on Kalos's already troubled history, and you were left alone and waiting for the day you may see Lysandre again. Desperately, you wished to believe him alive and out in the world. Until that day came, you would continue to hold on to his ideals in his stead.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Nearly all of his team supports what twisting of the truths he fed to them. Claims of making a better world were eaten up eagerly and believed almost unquestionably, even from his highest of commanders. Saturn had not a clue what his intentions for this new world were, and Mars and Jupiter especially did not. You, however, did. Not that Cyrus would have you involved in Team Galactic officially, but it was well understood you had authority that was only directly surpassed by the Galactic Boss himself.

☄️ You were well aware of his true intentions. He was not lying about creating a world he believed to be superior to this one, but it was nothing for Team Galactic. It was all for himself… And, you, too, he supposed. This world held suffering and strife due to how such an incomplete thing as spirit remains. Cyrus had spoken of these things to you in complete confidence that you would understand. There was still mild surprise on his part when you expressed agreement with his plans. Truthfully, a small amount of doubt had dwelled within him. The way you had cupped his cheeks and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips told him everything he needed to know.

☄️ You were kindred souls in a way. This world was a cruel and unkind place that was drowned in petty discourse and strife that simply seemed impossible to ever settle. While Cyrus knew not the details that had brought you to the point of wishing spirit gone just as he had, he silently acknowledged the suffering and pain you must have gone through. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was the thought of you in any kind of pain. His original plans had been to keep you ignorant and unaware of his actions, truthfully.

☄️ Ultimately, it helps put him at ease knowing you would unfaltering help him towards his ultimate goal. Cyrus being able to confide in you released some of the burden on him. Plans were more accurately discussed and considered while raking over books of Sinnoh's myths. He felt certain that everything would go to plan, as you both soon had found yourselves at Spear Pillar with the Red Chain in his possession. One look at you reminder him of his certainty as he forced forth both the legendary pokemon of Sinnoh.

☄️ When the dust had settled and Cyrus vanished into the Distortion World, you felt empty. Perhaps even emptier than he claimed to be. Cynthia had spoken to you afterward, attempting to find out more about what Cyrus was doing. She had told you he had chosen to stay in the dimension. You begged her to let you join him, but she simply refused, promising to help you in any way she could. Then, to even more of your upset, one of his commanders decided to make themselves boss of Team Galactic. You quickly quit, uninterested in anything else but Cyrus and his goals. Somehow, you would find your way to him and help him finish the world you both desired.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The Magma Leader had many supporters. His belief in bettering humanity by providing more land for resources was something noble. Scientists and trainers easily rallied under him as they worked tirelessly in the goal of awakening the super-ancient pokemon Groudon to do their bidding. You, as his partner, were naturally involved in his work. One of his admins, you helped him as he moved along the region to investigate possible leads. Your position was certainly high there, but not overly so as to be unfair to others.

🪨 Maxie was not at all shy about his plans. He and Archie breaking apart from how passionate and dedicated he was to them, even. You had likely heard them before most people had due to your closeness. It was hard to disagree with him. More land did seem like a reasonable way to solve numerous crises that would arise if they had not already. His confidence in his plans easily convinced you, too, alongside just wanting to support him.

🪨 His dedication and planning were something admirable in your eyes. The way he led Team Magma as a firm and capable leader was mostly what led you to support him, outside of finding his concerns about the bettering of humanity something noble. Maxie felt at ease to have your full support, especially when you voiced your utmost trust in him. He hated to consider the possibility of you turning against him and, yet it was something that crossed his mind many times before speaking with you about his plans.

🪨 It was often you aided in whatever research you could to figure out a way to awaken the legendary pokemon from its slumber. Many missions were worked with you at his side for ease of communication and improvisation where it may be required. Your unyielding support bolstered his confidence. It was not long until the Red Orb was in Team Magma's possession alongside a stolen submarine. Soon, he would depart to the seafloor to awaken the slumbering beast for his bidding. Your praises lauded him even deeper into his convictions.

🪨 With everything that followed revolving around Groudon's awakening and the endless drought it brought, you felt confused. Tabitha's subsequent demands and panic about the readings made you horrified at what you had helped bring about. Maxie himself in terror at the idea of mass extinction. When a child had to fix the horrible situation your team had done, there was more salt in your wounds. It was hard to accept all that had happened, but you were forced to. Maxie's goals subsequently shifted to something more reasonable as he changed the direction of Team Magma after it all ended. You remained at his side, still eager to nurture the better side of his ambitions.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 Archie had a lot of people on his side. His charisma and genuineness, easily attracting many to his side and believing in his plans of awakening Kyogre to solve the problem that was causing him distress. It was almost impossible for him not have you involved in Team Aqua in some way. Even if you did not have an official title, being the leader's partner held enough authority in general. You did, however, being an admin like Shelly and Matt were. There was certainly some favouritism towards you, but not enough to really warrant any bad feelings among the members. Everyone did know to be respectful to you, though.

💧 The Aqua Leader had told you about his plans before he even had a firm grasp on his end goal. His worries about the ocean growing polluted and uninhabitable for the pokemon alongside just wishing to aid the creatures was something that came from a genuinely kind place. It ended up driving apart he and Maxie, so he leaned more on to you. His plans became solidified and seemingly reasonable enough. Kyogre would turn this world back to a pure state, something obviously needed. It was hard to tell him 'no', too. His smile far too convincing.

💧 Archie was pure hearted in his intentions. You felt it entirely. He hated how humanity had become apathetic to their own effects on this planet and wished to put an end to it to protect nature and pokemon. A certain sadness in his eyes reflected out the turmoil he felt from seeing cruelty that obviously haunted him. There was belief in you that it was kindness that drove him to, what must have seemed to an outsider, such extreme measures. Archie was comforted by the fact you understood his wishes truly, that he had so much support from you and his entire team.

💧 You were by his side through the thick and thin of his missions, aiding him where and when Matt and Shelly could not. Helping with the research into Kyogre late into the nights. Archie could not believe how lucky he was to have you as his partner. The solution of the Blue Orb was soon in your hands, and plans of securing a submarine brewing in the team's plans. He squeezed you into a tight hug as he thanked you endlessly for your support through of all of this. It would not be long until Kyogre's power purified this world.

💧 When the downpour began and Shelly panicked, you knew something was horribly wrong. When Archie re-emerged and was told of the imminent world flooding. All of you felt terrified about what had been unleashed. When a child somehow came to the world's rescue, you could watch the cogs turning in the Aqua Leader's head. After the storm died down and Kyogre was calmed, you could watch as he stood firm and took accountability for his actions. You felt your own responsibility, too, having so thoughtlessly supporting him. The restructuring of Team Aqua's purpose had your full support, and Archie shifting gears for his goals. Now, you felt more aware to call him out, too.

[dandelionwhisp]

Deals With Devils

A Floyd Silver Bullet Mafia AU fic

Silver Bullet AU by @jackplushie

this was so incredibly fun to write- my brain exploded at the idea of sb!mc losing it and who better to snap at then one of the most canonically unhinged characters of twst?!!? thank u jackplushie for another amazing au and i hope ive done it justice!! it might not be as yandere as others have written but i hope he’s still the crazy boy you know and love.

CW?: yelling, a bit of swearing, mentions of corpses, mentions of violence (nothing super extreme for the last two i promise) and a tiny itty bitty suggestive bit at the end you might see if you squint

enjoy!!

——————————————————————————

You leaned forward- grabbing his loosely unbuttoned collar roughly- face inches from his own. “Listen here, Leech.” Pissed. Oh you were beyond pissed. “This is the one place where you don’t get to make your own rules.”

And if your words were about to put a silver bullet through your skull then so be it. It took all the years of built up patience to not slam this person’s face into the tabletop. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your mood swings if you disrupt my bar. I’m not interested in compromise—“

Tilting your head slowly with purpose, breath low and scalding with anger against his ear, your voice rang clearly for him to hear. “—cause’ I have no interest in making deals with devils.”

Letting go of his collar, and straightening it the best you could, you widened the distance between you and the man. Your face returned to a neutral expression, as if you hadn’t just threatened one of the most dangerous individuals amongst the ‘underworld.’

“Here, you’re allowed to have all the fun you want as long as my bar and its patrons stay intact.” His eyes blew wide in surprise at the fierceness of your gaze and complete fearlessness in the face of someone who has probably taken more lives than you could count on both hands.

You slammed his most frequently requested drink in front of the stunned gang member and let out an exasperated breath. “On the house-” shock passing, Floyd’s expression grew into one of unsettling delight. “-as long as you don’t cause any more trouble for the rest of the night AND take care of the damages you caused earlier.”

Reaching under the bar top, you pulled out a mini aquamarine umbrella and placed it in the beverage, returning his... disturbing smile with your own seemingly unbothered one.

You could tell he’s had a bad couple of days, and you knew they were his favorite.

He let out a childlike laugh and sipped his drink happily. “Alright Shrimpy I’ll behave~” Though you were obviously unconvinced. “As long as I’m allowed to squeeze you whenever I want!”

Ah. There was the catch. “Yeah yeah alright. Just don’t make me mess up any drinks.”

Smile unwavering, he blinked in surprise. He didn’t expect you to actually let him! (Not that your protests would’ve stopped him from squeezing you in the first place)

But damn, you were so interesting, always providing something new for him to prod and pull at, always a new button for him to press to see what your limits were.

You weren’t easy to break and were often level headed to a fault, but when you snap, Floyd has learnt you bite back hard.

Yet... you’ve always let him and many others stick around, whether you can’t bother to or can’t afford to toss them out completely, even when they leave behind a broken chair or shattered glass in their wake.

Floyd was known to have unpredictable and sudden mood swings, dangerous and feared throughout, including those within his own gang- save for his brother and boss.

People know to ‘stay away’ or submit to his wants in these moments where it got particularly bad. After all, no one wishes to be left behind with their organs mangled and ribs shattered. Well, no one except perhaps you.

Today was one of the worst days for the exuberant leech twin, being yelled at by Azul for losing a few of his prey along with a lecture from Jade, as well as having been unable to give a good squeeze to anyone in days after breaking his arm in a prior conflict.

Too irritated to chase those who bolted at the first sight of him, he’s found that corpses, while also soft and squishy, aren’t warm and cozy nor do they squirm delightfully like living people do. They were limp with no fearful, pounding heartbeat to soothe his frustrations.

So naturally, he found himself at your bar to let that anger out.

Too bad your mood was just as sour as his with the terrible weather outside, and with the way he forcefully yanked the door, leaving behind a loud screech which let you know something definitely broke and would have to be fixed by you later, it only got worse.

Within ten minutes, all twelve patrons previously seated in your bar scurried out the broken door, three of which did not pay for their drinks and four who left with something fractured, probably never to return to your establishment again. He broke two glasses and was nearly about to tear through your countertop when you finally had enough.

In an explosive bout of anger, you forced the Floyd Leech to shut up and listen to your demands, even throwing in a minor threat in the mix.

Now usually, he wouldn’t take such treatment lying down. However, your reaction was exciting to him. In fact thanks to you, his mood has improved significantly!

Floyd doesn’t really care that much about deals and contracts or whatnot. With how their organization runs, that’s mainly Azul’s job and Jade helping with the persuasive side of things. His role was to give out the punishments when asked, though his brother would often tag along in the process.

But you? Oh what Floyd wouldn’t give to see you sign upon a golden paper, binding you to his mafia.

The rest of his time spent at your bar is him slurring out half-hearted apologies for breaking your furniture and chasing out patrons, promising that he’ll pay for the damage (because you both know he has the money for that- or rather, Azul does.), with arms wrapped around your waist despite still being kept at arms length with your vague answers to his too-personal questions.

As it approaches closing, Floyd leans forward and tilts his head slowly, breath heavy and searing against your ear. “Thanks for the drinks, n’ I’ll see you ‘round soon, Shrimpy~”

Pulling his loose arms off you, you let your face split into a mocking yet familiar, unsettling smile. “You’re welcome, and I truly hope not.”

Lazily making his way back to where Azul and Jade were definitely waiting for him, Floyd twirled the mini umbrella between his fingers.

While remembering your outburst, he laughs to himself and decides,

‘he’d like to see you lose your shit more often,’ but perhaps it’s the rarity of it that makes it all the more fun.

He’ll admit that smile of yours he had once only seen in his own pictures and reflections had his heart thumping and mind racing with thoughts beyond the boundaries of what would be considered ‘socially acceptable’.

And it makes him think of all the ways he could open you up and break you down next time, and eagerly looks forward to what adorable expressions you might wear then.

.....

My dear, you may have no interest in deals with devils, but beware, cause’ you’ve got devils wanting to make deals with you.

[probably-impossible]

Crush

A story about the End of the Wild West; or, the Prophet sees two trains explode on his one-hundred-and-fourth birthday.

(Aka my Activity 1 for the @dollarstrilogyevent that I got way too into hahahaha)

By his own reckoning, Prophet was one-hundred and four years old as of that September in 1896. Perhaps unsurprisingly he had lost most of his hearing, but his vision was still good. He saw the door of his shack swing open, and he struggled to sit up in bed. “I've already found Jesus and I'm not buying anything!”

The face that poked around the door belonged to Fluke Dudley, a young man who worked on the ranch that had sprung up next door. He was just about the only one who visited him anymore. “It's me, Prophet,” he said. “I w- - - - - to - - - - you- -”

“Speak up, boy!”

“I SAID THERE'S SOMEWHERE I'D LIKE TO TAKE YOU TODAY!”

“What? Where's that, then?”

“IT'S A SURPRISE!” Fluke scratched his nose and grinned. “For your birthday. You'll like it, sir, I promise.”

Prophet grumbled but allowed Fluke to lift him into the rickety wheelchair that sat beside his bed. “Don't need remindin’ about no birthday,” he said. “I've had about ten too many of ‘em, I reckon. Wish someone had put me out of my misery back when the goddamn good-for-nothing trains took my hearing!”

“Oh, don't talk like that.” 

“I'm a hundred and four years old, I'll talk however I damn well please!” 

Fluke rolled him out of the shack, towards one of the ranch's small one-horse wagons. He lifted the old man up onto the seat and stowed the chair in the bed, then jumped up and flicked the reins.

Prophet squinted at the scenery as they rolled slowly alongside the train tracks. “I used to get visits from all sorts of people, you know,” he said. “I used to know everything about everybody in these parts. They'd come from miles around to see me. To get their information.”

Fluke nodded. He'd heard this story before. 

“Lawmen, outlaws, drifters,” Prophet continued. “Bounty killers. I've seen them all. But they just don't make men like that anymore. I tell you, boy, things have got too civilized around here.”

“ - - - - ”

“What?”

“I SAID YOU'RE RIGHT!”

“Damn sure I'm right.” Prophet leaned over the side of the wagon to glare down at the tracks. “It's all the fault of those trains! They take all the civilized folk from out east, load ‘em up into their carriage cars with the lacy curtains and little fruity drink trolleys, and send ‘em out here. And soon enough there's so much civilization around a man can't hardly be himself anymore.”

Prophet leaned back and went silent for a while. “I wonder how many of those young men who used to come and see me are still alive,” he said. “They strung up Willie Foster last year, I know that. And Kid Frasier fell off his hoss. That old marshal Colby… whatever happened to him?”

“He got killed in a shootout, you said.”

“Right, right. Davey and Red Kelly done it, and then they run off to Mexico.” He blinked as another wagon passed by them. It was loaded up with people, chatting and laughing. He lost his thought for a moment, then picked it back up again. “Angel Eyes… he's long gone. That retired colonel went back to North Carolina. Now what was that young buck's name… Manco. Fell off the face of the earth, far as I can remember. And worst of all, poor old Cheyenne…”

“Shot in the gut by the president of the railroad company,” Fluke muttered.

“...shot in the gut by the president of the railroad company! Did you ever hear of a worse way to go?!” Prophet sighed. “Somehow I outlived them all. Now I'm the last of a dyin’ breed. They just don't make men like us anymore.”

“No sir,” Fluke said. There were more wagons around now, and people walking along the tracks, too. They all seemed to be going in the same direction. Fluke tipped his hat as they passed by a group of ladies holding parasols.

Prophet looked at him skeptically. “Where exactly are you taking me? There sure are a lot of other people headed this way.”

“You'll find out soon,” Fluke said. “We're almost there.” 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with my hair!”

“I SAID WE'RE ALMOST THERE!”

As they kept riding the crowd really started to thicken. They passed by lemonade stands and carnival games, a grandstand with a band, even a circus tent. “Just this once I'm glad I'm deaf,” Prophet muttered. “Who's runnin’ a goddamn county fair along the train tracks?”

Fluke slowly drew the wagon to a stop and pointed up at a large banner that had been hoisted next to a section of the track. It read ‘Crush, Texas. Est. September 15, 1896.’

“The railroad company's putting on a demonstration,” Fluke said, raising his voice even more than usual over the sound of the crowd. “They're gonna take two old steam engines, run ‘em as fast as they can, and crash ‘em right into each other!” He beamed with pride. “How do you like that for a birthday present, sir? You and me are gonna watch two trains smash each other to smithereens!”

Prophet blinked. “...What? The railroad company’s gonna smash their own trains?” he said, puzzled. “What for?”

“They're old engines, I guess,” Fluke said. “No use for ‘em anymore.”

“So they're crashing them? What, with all these people around?” 

“It's supposed to be very safe. No chance of the boilers exploding or anything, that's what the man from the railroad said.”

Prophet went quiet for a while. Fluke felt his own excitement start to deflate. He'd been so sure the old man would love to see this. All he ever talked about was how much he hated trains! The whole affair seemed perfectly designed with him in mind. But he didn't look excited. In fact, he seemed a little… sad.

“The railroad company…” he muttered. “Making a whole damn spectacle out of busting up some old trains that aren't good for nothing anymore. And it's perfectly safe. ‘Course it is.”

A ripple of excitement went through the crowd; rumbling could be heard in the distance. Fluke slouched on the bench of the wagon. “...I'm sorry, Prophet. I thought for sure you'd like to see it.”

“Oh, don't look so damn mopey, boy,” Prophet said, gently. “Old bastards like me can't ever be satisfied with nothin’, that's all.”

They sat there in silence for a while. Fluke listened to the rumbling while Prophet watched two black dots appear on either end of the horizon and grow steadily closer. 

Eventually the rumbling grew to a roar, and an anticipatory hush fell over the crowd. The ground began to shake. The trains were close enough to their destined meeting place now that Prophet could make out the shape of the engine cars, could see the smoke billowing from their antiquated stacks. For the first time in his life, the sight of the damn things didn't fill him entirely with hatred. They were being put out to pasture, just like him. To make way for newer, better trains. And when it happened it would be a perfectly-designed show, perfectly safe. Perfectly civilized. 

The two trains met right beneath the banner. There was a mighty crash, so loud that even Prophet could hear it, and the sound of splintering wood. Then, a moment of total silence. 

When the explosion began, time seemed to slow for Prophet. He could see a bright orange light well up within each of the smashed engines, then blossom into two beautiful balls of flame. The light danced in his eyes, and he smiled with glee. The boilers of the old engines had blown up after all. The sight of it was breathtaking. 

All this took place within less than a second. As the fire billowed outwards, the force of the explosion sent millions of pieces of metallic debris straight into the gathered crowd. Prophet grinned with ecstasy and thought about how awful this was going to be for the railroad company. Oh, they were going to have hell to pay for this. It was a fiasco. Maybe it would even drive them out of business...! Of all the ways for a man like him to go, this was a fine one. He was grateful the boy had brought him out here, after all.

The explosion nearly knocked Fluke from the wagon, and he felt a stinging pain in his forearms as he shielded his face. It was all over in only a moment. He could hear groans and shouts from the crowd as he slowly regained his senses. He looked down at his arms; he'd been hit by some shrapnel, but not badly. 

He turned quickly towards Prophet, then froze. The old man lay flopped backwards over the wagon bench, unmoving. 

A metal bolt had gone straight into his forehead. Even so, there was a satisfied smile on his face.

[elisysd]

Power - Little Mix

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

You shoud know, I'm the one who's in control I'll let you come take the wheel, long a you don't forget Who got the power?

After much hesitation, Lyanna finally agreed to appear in the interview that Charles would give on Ferrari's social networks. What neither she nor Charles had anticipated, however, was that Ferrai would make a public announcement of her participation and invite the tifosis to ask whatever questions they wished, resulting in an alarming number of questions about their relationship rather than Charles' ambitions and the 2024 season.

It was in the middle of the week, at 8am one morning, that the Scuderia media team and Silvia arrived at Charles' house with cameras and microphones. They spent an hour setting up the equipment and arranging the room to create an aesthetically pleasing setting for the shoot. Charles and Lyanna then had their make-up and hair done and the microphones set up.

Lyanna didn't feel comfortable, despite the fact that it was far from being her first interview and that the cameras on her didn't really bother her. On the other hand, it was the first time she had allowed her private life to be voluntarily exposed. She hoped she wasn't opening the door to too many excesses, even if Charles had made it clear to Silvia that this kind of interview was the first and last.

She took a seat on a chair next to the camera, which was pointed at the pilot, who, seeing the stress on the young woman's face, desperately tried to relax her by making faces in her direction.

The interview began. Charles recounted what it was like for him at the time of the crash, what he remembered and what happened afterwards. His convalescence, the importance of mental strength and how the desire to get back into an F1 car and wear the Ferrari colours again had motivated him, along with the importance of the support of those close to him, without whom it would not have been possible.

Then it was Lyanna's turn. She in turn took her place in the same spot where Charles had been sitting a few moments earlier as he stood facing her, taking care to remain within her line of sight to reassure her. Lyanna couldn't help fidgeting with her fingers.

“So Lyanna, can you tell us what you recall from the accident?” asked her Silvia

“Honestly? Not that much…It was like I was dissociating from everything. My body was there but my mind was elsewhere. The only thought I had was him, in that car, and not knowing if he was alive or…” she shook her hear as if it could keep away the bad thoughts. “I kept replaying the last words I said to him. Then, Fred gave me his headset so I could be connected to Charles’ radio, so could talk to him and when I heard nothing but white noise it felt like the ground was collapsing under me. I know that it was just two minutes between the actual crash and learning that he was alive, but to me it felt so much longer.”

“Is it something you had prepared yourself for? Having to witness a car crash.”

“I mean, I know that when Charles gets in the car, there is a possibility of him having an accident. But I’m not expecting the worst. There is a whole team behind that is supposed to make sure that he comes back in one piece. So I’m not scared. I try to not show that it’s stressing me out because I know that Charles doesn’t need to see me worried before a race.”

They continued talking for a few more minutes. Lyanna mentioned how she had been by Charles' side during his convalescence and how annoying he had been. This was supposed to be the light moment of the video. Charles then took his place alongside his girlfriend for the Q&A.

“So this question is for Charles: how important is your girlfriend in your day to day life since the crash.”

“She had been the most supportive person. Always there to help me when I couldn’t even get out of the bed. Always encouraging me. I haven’t been the easiest person to be around, and I’m sorry about that, Lya. I haven’t been appreciative enough.”

“Lyanna: What was the most difficult part about having Charles sick at home?”

“Watching him watch the races and endure all his complaints about how he should be there and how he would have driven every single corner. Positive side of it, I’m beginning to understand F1 better. Negative side, he was really annoying.”

“Could we expect to see you more on the tracks for 2024 season?”

“Well, it’s going to depend on a lot of things but even if I can’t be physically there, I will always cheer him on from whenever I am.”

The interview came to an end and Lyanna was relieved to see the team soon leaving the flat. She wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing the final result, she just hoped that the editing would reflect what she had said and that the video wouldn't be dramatised.

That evening, over pizza for Lyanna and a salad for Charles, who was on a diet, Charles asked her if she had any plans for the following day. He wanted to spend some time with his girlfriend alone, feeling that it had been far too long since that had happened, between their argument and his trip to Maranello. He was therefore surprised when she told him that she had planned a day's shopping to buy presents for her family and also for Charles's, not wanting to appear ungrateful by coming empty-handed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked her.

“No, it’s fine. I’m already meeting someone there and it would spoil the fun if you already knew your Christmas present, don’t you think?” she replied, which piqued the Monegasque's curiosity even more.

“Who are you going to meet? You don’t know anyone in Monaco?”

“Well first of all, thank you for making me look like a recluse who won't come out of her cave. And second, I kind of befriended Charlotte.”

 Charles dropped his fork in surprise and it landed on his trousers, leaving a stain of vinaigrette in the process.

“When you say Charlotte, you talk about Charlotte my ex-girlfriend who was at my birthday or you happen to know another Charlotte who lives in Monaco?”

“We are thinking of the same Charlotte.” Confirmed Lyanna.

“But… Okay, I have a few questions. When? How? Why? Don’ get me wrong, I have no problem with it and I’m happy that you are making friends but… she’s my ex-girlfirend?”

“I mean… it happened. She really helped me understanding some things and put my thoughts in order. She was really straightforward about what I should expect as your girlfriend and she was kind enough to answer my questions. And then we just bonded over things. Don’t worry we are not talking about you. She has not revealed your worst embarrassments yet.”

“Well thanks, I guess? So you are meeting with her tomorrow? Where?”

“At the shopping centre and we will probably go eat somewhere so don’t wait for me. I’ll be out all day.”

Charles nodded. When Lyanna disappeared into the bathroom after dinner to take a shower, he quickly took out his phone and isolated himself on the balcony before dialling his best friend's number.

“Joris? It’s me. Tell me, do you have some plans tomorrow? I was thinking of going Christmas shopping.”

Far from imagining for a moment her boyfriend's intentions, Lyanna left the next morning excited at the idea of shopping for Christmas presents. She didn't really know what to get Charles's brothers and mother, so she was reassured to have Charlotte by her side to advise her. She met up with the young woman in a café near the shopping centre and the two of them wandered through the aisles looking for the perfect present. For Arthur, Lyanna had bought a comic book on the history of motor sport. For Lorenzo, she had opted for a stationery set, thinking it would be useful for him as he was partly in charge of Arthur's career, and as for Pascale, Lyanna had opted for a body and face care set so that she could take care of herself.

“Did you find a gift for Charles?” asked Charlotte as they were heading to a restaurant.

“Yeah, I have it already. I just hope he’ll like it.”

Caught up in their discussion, the two young women paid no attention to the all too recognisable Pista of a certain number 16 following them at a distance.

“I keep on telling you that we should have taken my car… they are going to see us.” Mumbled Joris, his face between his hands starting to question his life choices and how they led him to sit in his best friend’s car, spying on his current and ex-girlfriend.

“And I’m telling you that we are super discreet. And we don’t spy. We are just trying to see what they are doing. I just want to understand.”

“That’s the definition of spying, mate.”

“Shut up.”

Charles ended up parking awkwardly in a spot where he wasn't sure he was really allowed to, but at least it was out of sight. He took two black hoodies and sunglasses out of his trunk. He handed one to Joris before putting on the second.

“You really went overboard with the I’m definitely not spying my girlfriend.” Commented Joris.

Charles glared at him to shut him up and the two friends headed for the restaurant where Lyanna and Charlotte were eating. Fortunately for Charles, they were sitting near the window and he could see them quite clearly. They were laughing together and looked very friendly and Charles couldn't help wondering what was so funny.

It was the crowd around the restaurant that caught Charlotte and Lyanna's eye as they enjoyed a coffee with macaroons. Lyanna naively thought it was for her at first, but when no one entered the restaurant or seemed to be paying any attention, she discarded the idea. It was Charlotte who realised what all the fuss was about when she spotted Charles's best friend a little way back in the crowd, seemingly enjoying the warm greetings his friend was receiving.

“Did you tell Charles that we would meet today?”

“Yes, he knows. Why?”

“Because I think I see Joris, and unless he has become a superstar in the span of one year, I do believe that Charles is here.”

Lyanna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The two young women got up, took their time paying the bill and left the restaurant to approach the crowd. And indeed, the closer they got, the more Lyanna could hear Charles's name being called out. The two young women stood back for a few moments, just long enough for all the fans to get a photo or an autograph and then to leave.

When Charles saw Lyanna and Charlotte, both with their arms crossed and the same disapproving look on their faces, he knew he was in trouble.

“Hey… Girls… Fancy seeing you here.” He tried to play it nonchalant.

“Charles are you following me?” asked Lyanna bluntly.

“Following you? Babe, you are hurting my feelings. It’s just a pure coincidence. Joris called me this morning asking me to help him find a gift for his mom and being the great friend that I am, I accepted. Nothing more. Right, Joris?”

Charles stared at his friend, who cleared his throat and approached the group.

“Yeah… my sister… I mean my mom is picky and Charles has great taste so…”

“You don’t need to cover for him, Joris.” Said Charlotte.

“I promise you, Lya it’s not what it looks like…”

“So you are not spying on us?”

“Yeah okay, fine we were spying. But can you blame me? I just wanted to see by myself what a friendship between you and Charlotte would look like.”

“Were you scared that I would turn her against you by saying what an idiot you are sometimes?” intervened Charlotte. “Because if so, don’t worry I think she doesn’t need me to see that. You do wonders by yourself.”

“Haha very funny.”

“Since when are you following us?”

“Lyanna, believe me you don’t want to know.” Said Joris.

“We might have been behind you in that cosmetic shop. By the way my mom is going to love the gift.”

“I don’t know if I should be scared because your behaviour is creepy or admirative because how the hell were you so subtle.”

“Go with the second option, it will make me sleep better tonight.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes and turned to Charlotte.

“I’m so sorry about him.”

“Don’t worry. I see you around. Happy holidays to you both.”

Joris not wanting to spend another minute in Charles's company, took the opportunity to go his own way, leaving Lyanna and the pilot alone at last. The young woman handed her bags to Charles, who grabbed them sheepishly.

“You are so going to sleep on the sofa tonight.”

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

author's note: A little chapter to celebrate Silverstone week end aka one of my favourite race on the calendar! Next chapter will be Christmas at the Leclerc, I can't wait and then off we go for the 2024 season. We are slowly approaching the end of the story and I'm not going to lie, it makes me very sad. As usual, don't forget to comment / reblog / like the story since it's the best way to let me know that you are actually enjoying it. And see you for another chapter very, very soon!

taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard If you are tagged but did not receive any notifications, please check your settings because it means that Tumblr didn't let me tag you.

[zaimta]

T.M.I

zai says: i think imma release these every friday, when the other ones come out yall will be able to tell that this was the first one i did also i'm gon milk this arc till the day i die n y'all know this

[prev] [pause/play] [next]

you looked in the mirror in disgust, you hated what you saw, nothing but a broken person who couldn't even stay true to what they believed in. nothing more than a puppet being toyed with by the puppet master.

you and freed walked side by side to the church, he could tell you were feeling a slight amount of guilt but he had yet to figure out something that was bothering him “y/n. it’s clear that laxus will only listen to you at this point. but maybe he is beyond that point…however, i must ask why haven’t you told him to call this all off? it’s clear you don’t want much to do with this. so why y/n? why do you fight for something you don’t believe in?”

“because i-”

“damnit!” you shouted at the memory flooding your brain, you clutched your head looking down at your feet, and you then felt tears streaming down your cheek “why wasn’t i strong enough? i’m pathetic.”

back then you knew the answer to his question and you still do now, your guilt was eating you alive not allowing you to think clearly

your arms fell slack by your sides and you fell to your knees, tears still streaming down your cheeks

“maybe i’m just a fool freed.” he sent a smile your way his eyes screamed pity, just a pitiful glare for a shameful idiot and you hated every second of it.

“i should have done more back then, anything would have been better than this outcome. i was too weak to stop it, i was just a love-sick fool who was blinded by that fact. after all this time did he even love me back? was i following him blindly just for him to not even love me back?” despite all the fond memories you made your doubts triumph over everything you knew and what he told you.

shame flooded your mind, you felt embarrassed to feel this way, to wallow in your own shame and regret. these feelings were all too familiar to you and you hated every last second of it, every pitiful millisecond was nothing short of hell to you, he was long gone and out of your life but yet your doubts in your relationship still followed you.

“please…make it stop.” you mumbled weakly as if your pleas would be heard while your tears flowed like a river.

“because i loved him. no matter how many people i had to hurt i wanted to see him happy again.”

i hate myself i look in the mirror and start to cry stupid self sabotage every time t.m.i i think i'm the worst criticize everything 'til it hurts

you don’t know but you picked yourself and decided to go to the guild hopefully some time around your friends would do you some good, and there it was again the pitty glances, you smiled throughout them all but there was only so much you could take.

you went to an empty table to clear your thoughts and felt a hand on your shoulder, you tensed up bracing for those words “how are you holding up?” lucy spoke to you as if you were fragile and you could break at any second, or that’s what it felt like to you anyway. you snatched your shoulder away from her grip and sent her a glare “im fine. why does everyone treat me like i’m some fragile thing?”

bet you wish you never asked sorry if i made you sad at least you know now where i'm at

you dropped your shoulders suddenly aware of how tense you were, you groaned and ran a hand down your face “shit. i’m sorry lucy i’m just…tired.”

“y/n im sorry i didn’t mean to-” you cut the celestial mage off “no it’s not your fault you were just trying to check on me.” you felt something run down your cheeks, we’re you crying? after all this time an ‘are you okay’ was what it took to get to you. you excused yourself and headed into the bathroom, it was pathetic you felt like a failure crying in a public restroom. you were nothing more than a waste of space who couldn’t have anything go your way.

“it’s all my fault. maybe if i was more firm?? who am i kidding maybe if i said something anything he still would have been here.” you think to yourself causing your tears so flow like a river down your face.

you looked in the mirror and saw the weakest person you ever saw, and it took everything in you not to smash that mirror.

“y/n?” evergreen said while knocking on the bathroom door “im coming in okay?” she walked into the bathroom and noticed the tears on your cheeks and she wordlessly wiped them away and sighed “what am i going do with you n/n? we’ve got to get you a better coping mechanism” she chuckled quietly at her own joke, she pulled down her dress so it was at least covering her legs and sat on the floor, she patted the spot next to her with a gentle smile inviting you to sit. you wordlessly sat next to her with your knees pulled up to your chest.

“i know this is hard on you right now, but you can’t keep pushing us away we’re here for you…freed told me how you have been feeling.” you sighed deeply “so you know everything?” she shook her head “i only know freed’s assumptions, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but you can’t keep letting your emotions eat you alive it’s not healthy for you y/n.”

the two of you sat there in silence for a while, you broke the silence with a small sigh and began opening up to evergreen about how you’ve been feeling “i feel like it’s all my fault ever…i feel like i could have done more maybe if i said something this whole thing wouldn't have happened or maybe he wouldn’t have been kick out of the guild” you pull your knees closer to your chest as you speak “i loved him ever, and now i might not even see him again.”

evergreen rested her hand on yours with a soft smile, you looked at her and her eyes didn’t scream pitty nor did they feel as if they were looking down at you and it was comforting “you don’t have to be guilty for anything y/n, we all made the choice to follow his plan…and he’s quite the ambitious man you know that, no matter what he would have seen his plan through till the end.”

you returned the smile “yea you’re right” the smile didn’t reach your eyes and she knew that, she knew you needed time how much time was all up to you however.

i hate myself i look in the mirror and start to cry super self sabotage every time t.m.i i think i'm the worst criticize everything 'til it hurts if you knew me better, you would like me worse t.m.i

[softeningmyheart]

Hello and welcome. My name's Rachel. I made this blog because I'm interested in learning more about Islam. I feel called to Islam, but my heart is still torn because of fear and bad circumstances. So please be patient with me as I learn and grow. Insha Allah I will gain the courage and willpower I need to overcome all barriers between me and Allah.

I am not yet Muslim though. I have not taken my shahada. Please do not pressure me to grow faster than I am ready. I will take it when I am ready, when I am able to live a muslim life and exist within a muslim community. I have many barriers in my living situation and in my habits that keep me from being openly muslim or doing things like salah. Rather than judging me, please keep me in your prayers so that I might overcome these circumstances and be free to pursue faith as I choose.

I ask that men, please do not DM me. I am not comfortable with talking to men in private at this stage in my journey. I do not wish to invite any more negative temptations into my life than already exists. Muslim women however, please feel free to reach out. I am all by myself in my journey right now and I hope that will find friendship and sisterhood that will help me grow into a better person.

If you want to know why I'm interested in Islam, there's a few reasons.

Firstly, I feel abandoned by western feminism and I seek real and true sisterhood, without compromise. It feels like Muslimah are the only ones who truly understand what sisterhood is supposed to be, rather than just using it as a means to fuel her own ego and wealth at the expense of others. I feel like I have been encouraged to make myself vulnerable and unprotected for those with the worst intentions.

I have been taught that I am wrong for feeling violated by the exposure of my chest and my hair and I must learn to enjoy being objectified. I have lost all faith in western feminism to help women at all. Western feminists will never look after me or come to save me. It is every woman for herself, so long as she is sufficiently naked and consumerist.

All this, in the name of making a point for a movement that does nothing to actually help women in the worst situations. So for this reason, Islamic ideas of womanhood and the rights of women are highly appealing. Islam gives me the right to gatekeep my beauty. Islam gives me the right to protect myself from the predatory eyes of evil men. Islam tells me that I do not need makeup, or fast fashion, or plastic surgery, in order to be a woman because I was made exactly how I am meant to be by Allah. In Islamic feminist thought, I feel truly protected and liberated from the male gaze.

Some struggle to want the hijab. I struggle because circumstance will not allow me to veil myself. Hijab is a beautiful gift to protect women.

Another reason is because it is fully compatible with my own experiences of the supernatural, as a former neo-pagan and occultist. Through following these paths I saw some of the worst of humanity and I've experienced first hand how these things are not only real, but dangerous. Nothing I ever contacted or indulged in ever felt anything like Allah. No other spirit ever offered me guidance, respect, or protection like Allah.

I will not go much more in depth, because I know I should not project my sins, but I feel it is important to explain my background so you can understand where I am coming to Islam from. I was not a Christian, nor a Jew, nor a Buddhist. I was raised new age, I bounced between polytheist practices that led me down the dark path of the occult and Satanic. Now Allah has blessed me with a change of heart. I hope Allah will forgive me for what I did in ignorance. It is a long road ahead for me, but there is nothing beyond the power of Allah.

So that is why I feel called. There are many reasons, but here are a few of my thoughts on the matter. I have a very complicated life situation and a very complicated relationship with faith. I pray only that my heart be softened, my gaze turned to the straight path, and that the right doors will open to lead me toward truth and goodness in a state of flow and ease. I wish only to be a good person, live a good life, know community, know love, and know spiritual fulfillment. Please pray for me so that the right doors will open for me and lead me into a virtuous life.

[starsreminisce]

Hiya happy 2024! Hope it’s an incredibly magic-filled year for you!

Your post on Lucien having an emotional connection to Elain vice versa and their bond being a primarily emotional bond just appeared on my page and what a great observation! I loved it

One part towards the end of that post especially stood out to me where you said if sjm wanted to go a rejected mating bond for them, then she would write all the characters reactions differently and I couldn’t agree more.

When I see posts about Elain and Azriel who are forbidden I’m very confused. In most books where I’ve read that trope the other characters hanging with the grumpy / sunshine / forbidden pair are constantly talking about how they’re rooting for the two, wishing they wud confess to one another (bcuz it’s so noticeable). Or their differing personalities might prevent them from confessing their feelings bcuz of reservations (like grumpy/sunshine). But either way there are others around them who are cheering the two on.

I don’t think we’ve everr been given a line or even a tiny morsel from the other characters like feyre, mor, etc, that Azriel and Elain are torturing themselves with want or that they wish those two would just give it up already and confess and so on and so forth

I hope that you had a wonderful new year and an equally magical year in store for you!

The whole issue I have with the forbidden love trope between Elain and Azriel is that there's absolutely no reason for it if all Elain needs to do is reject the bond. I often feel like people who are pushing for this don’t have an understanding of Lucien’s character. Lucien already said in ACOWAR that he’ll learn to let Elain go if that’s what she wants. Honestly, all of Elriel’s moments happened because Lucien isn’t being an alphahole. Sometimes, I still feel like Lucien allows this to happen because he knows he isn’t the best person for Elain to be around in order to heal; that’s how in tune I believe he is to her.

Who else would they have to hide from? Rhys? Rhys tells us that Lucien being alive is important to the peace they currently have - nothing about their mating bond at all. Rhys specifically used the word defend because that’s how the worst possible situation is going to play out. Azriel is coming in to challenge Lucien. Rhys knows Lucien well enough that Lucien doesn’t back down because Lucien did not from him or Amarantha. We know that Lucien has challenged Tamlin to get Feyre to learn her powers. We still don’t know how the whipping scene played out for Lucien to receive as many as he did for shouting out the wrym’s direction to Feyre.

I’ve seen people say that Elain ought to be included in the conversation, and it’s like, how is that going to play out? Hey Elain, I know you want to kiss Azriel but here’s the thing - Lucien is connected to three of our most volatile alliances, and he is also the secret son of our biggest ally. Wouldn’t that be manipulating her into accepting it, if she wants to do what it takes to be part of the court? Wouldn't that be forcing her to choose right then and there?

There were four scenarios in ACOSF that could have proven Azriel is a better match for Elain: Azriel could have told Nesta that Elain is extremely hurt that she was so far gone with her alcoholism, Azriel could have offered to help Elain regain her powers, Azriel could have danced or been around Elain during the Hewn City Solstice, and lastly, Azriel was a source of comfort for Elain during Feyre’s labor.

Four extremely important moments for Elain that Lucien was not there but Azriel was.

We have two highly observant characters' POVs: Cassian spent most of his time bewildered why Lucien and Elain are separated as they are, and Nesta observing the charged look but still called Elain a wretch for not paying any attention to her mate.

We have two characters who respect the reverence of the mating bond: Feyre and Amren.

We have two characters who do not approve of this: Rhys and Mor. Mor especially when she tensed up at Azriel giving Elain attention during the ACOSAF solstice.

If there were two characters who would give Elriels that morsel to hope for, it would have been Nesta and Feyre. Nesta is camp Gwyn, and Feyre still invited Lucien to their inner circle solstice, knowing that they aren’t interacting.

And I hate to point this out, but Feyre saw no wrongdoing from Rhys when he hid the pregnancy risk from her. Lucien also spent most of their journey back to the Night Court challenging Feyre’s hypocrisy between her mating bond with Rhys and his with Elain. Feyre also experienced Rhys's death, so she knows how it feels to be without her mate.

Feyre is not going to be on Elriel's side for those reasons. She'll support Elain's choice, but Elain has two sisters who couldn't resist the pull of the mating bond that was not revealed to them until it came time. I am sure that they will argue if this is something Elain truly wants, and we don't have anything in the books to suggest that.

The only person who does have the power to change this is Elain, and her silence is pretty damning to me. Especially when Nesta could have easily observed Elain giving Azriel glances when Nesta asked him why he won’t sit by the fire.

[hush-writes-preg]

i’ve been wanting to say this for a while, and im still not sure i’m gonna say it right, but i really appreciate your blog. i’ve been having issues with my ovaries for a while and it’s still not clear if i’m fertile or even gonna get to Keep my ovaries much longer. it’s been really stressful, because i really want to be able to get pregnant, and i might never be able to. but one of the worst parts is that i’m transmasc, and a lot of people- including my own family- can’t wrap their heads around being a man and wanting to be pregnant. even other transmascs seem to think i can’t actually be trans and genuinely want this. people pity me cus they think Society is what made me feel this way, and they have to “help” by convincing me this is something i don’t actually want.

you and all your followers have been the opposite of that. seeing so many other transmascs who openly (and sometimes desperately) want to experience pregnancy has made me feel like so much less of an other. seeing people who aren’t transmasc but have transmasc friends/partners being so encouraging and supportive when this is something they want has felt so validating. it’s such a positive and welcoming environment here, and it’s so comforting.

so i guess the main takeaway is everyone should keep being horny, because there’s at least one person who really appreciates it.

Hey there, Aster! Thanks for hopping into my inbox with your kind words! 💖

I've said it before, and I'll continue saying it long into the future for old and new followers alike-- this blog exists because I believe that everyone deserves the opportunity to feel appreciated, validated, and seen in regard to this kink. I don't care what parts anyone was born with, what parts anyone has now, or what anyone's age(18+)/gender/sexuality is. Anyone can feel the desire to be pregnant or to impregnate someone else, and that feeling should be celebrated.

I'm sorry to hear that you've had so much trouble with your original plumbing, Aster, and that you aren't sure if you'll be able to conceive. That's a really shitty situation to be in when you actually want to get pregnant. I've known a few people on Tumblr who are in similar health-related situations, and I just wish I could give all of you a big hug (if it's wanted). It's really not fair. The universe is pretty shit for allowing that to happen in the first place. But you're not alone, okay? I don't know how much comfort that offers you, but there are folks out there who commiserate, understand what you're struggling with, and hope that you'll be able to eventually find happiness regardless of what happens.

And yeah... family and society can suck big time sometimes. OFC you can't be male and want to carry a child, right? /s In my opinion, those people are nothing more than gatekeepers who have no business being involved in your body and business. The knowledge that these kinds of opinions are so commonplace really pisses me off. The desire to procreate is a ridiculously ordinary (though not universal) part of being human, so why shouldn't anyone be allowed to use the parts they have to make a baby if they want to? Or be allowed to find other reasonable ways to make it happen? :throws-table.gif:

Ugh. I'll get off of my soapbox now.

All that said, if the space I'm nurturing and the community we're all building is one of support, encouragement, and affirmation, then that's a dream fulfilled for me. We may be stuck feeling like an Other elsewhere thanks to societal stupidity, but not here. Here we're all as incredible and sexy and fertile as we wish to be, and I refuse to hear otherwise.

You're awesome, Aster. Try to stay positive, do what you can to take care of your troublesome bits, and love yourself the way you are. And if you ever need to vent about this stuff, my DMs are open, okay?

I adore all of you horny, breedable fuckers. 💖 Don't any of you forget it.