#it was so shocking that it reached all corners of the fandom

[thelastattempt]

I tried to send this but my phone froze so I don’t know if it went through so I am sending it again

Oh, no, I was using Louis’ wording to describe the incident where he was assaulted. I think he described it as a bit weird, as too far? So I was just using how he worded it. There was really no other way for Louis to bring it up, he brought it up in probably the best way he could. There really was no better way to address it and I hate that it happened to him. Fans should know better. I only brought up Beyoncé as she is a massive artist who has gone crowdsurfing, which is a form of what Louis does by going to barricade. When an artist gets close to you like that, you don’t cross the boundaries and touch them inappropriately. That is a human being and no one should ever be assaulted

Oh I see - thank you for coming back and clarifying, I appreciate it.

And again, you’re so right in what you’re saying. And as a part of a fan community, it is our responsibility to call out these behaviours when we see them. It doesn’t need to be aggressive or confrontational - a lot of people are young and maybe get caught up in the moment. But glorifying anything like this is wrong and we do have the ability to cut that out.

He is a human being. A whole real person. Who is putting himself out there to connect and give us the best night possible. Don’t reward that by being the worst version of yourself.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 16

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Part 16:

Jason carefully kept his writing legible as he wrote down the heating instructions. Considering Ghost seemed to be living off granola bars he was not taking any chances. 

There were signs Ghost had returned a few times. The bag and calibrator was gone of course, and the sandwiches were disappearing. It wasn’t good enough. Ghost needed more than sandwiches, it was better than living solely on granola bars, but it was not enough. He needed something more energy dense - hence the meat and vegetable stew and the mashed potatoes he’d made, packed in portions for easy reheating. But he had to make sure it was easy, he didn’t want to risk it being too bothersome and him not eating any. 

Slowly, deliberately he put the pen down so he didn’t break it and laid his hands down flat on the kitchen island. Jason was in control, not the pits. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting the seconds… 

…seven… eight…

Carefully he pushed the voice away that insisted he just lay a trap instead of all this tip-toeing around. It would be all too easy, Tim had found out how to short-circuit his powers. It hadn’t lasted more than an hour or two, but really there was no reason they couldn’t just attach some sort of device to him and repeat the small EMP charge every hour - it would be easy.

It would be horrible.

It was not how Jason wanted to go about it. Fucking Pits. Fucking intrusive thoughts. He hung his head taking deep breaths. He just wanted a little bit of peace of mind, was that too much to ask?

A half-choked gasp sounded behind him and he spun around wide-eyed. There, across the living room section of the open plan apartment was Ghost halfway through the far wall. His eyes were wide and looked as shocked as Jason felt. 

Jason didn’t dare breathe as he slowly raised his empty hands. One wrong move and he could ruin everything. He swallowed dryly and ever so slowly he stepped to the side around the kitchen island and backwards, away from Ghost, deeper into the kitchen, cornering himself, leaving all exits free - even if Ghost didn’t technically need any. Ghost followed his movements warily only moving his head, his body completely frozen, still only halfway through the wall. 

Jason’s back hit the cupboards. It was as far as he could remove himself. It was all he could do. The ball was in Ghost’s court. 

Please don’t run.

Jason didn’t think he could handle that one more time. 

Oo o oO

Danny kept his eyes locked on the currently helmet-less not ghost. His heart rabbited in his chest and his whole body felt coiled like a spring, torn between running or going forward. He was terrified, but he also yearned-

Danny had become complacent. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he cursed himself for it now. He’d just moved thoughtlessly through the wall and his ghost sense had only had time to warn him when his eyes could do just as well. The barely there mist had fizzled uselessly out of his mouth when he gasped. 

Helmet moved carefully away from Danny, as far away as he could in the kitchen. His hands were raised as if in surrender. He looked as harmless as a six foot tank could, which to be fair, it wasn’t the size of the man, that scared Danny. No, it was the fact that his entire body screamed trap. Danny was not keen on a repeat of his powers being gone, and the risk, the knowledge of it, it threatened to tear apart his painstakingly assembled composure. 

Red Helmet might have taken him away from the other vigilantes, but he was still one of them. Danny just could not let himself trust him and it hurt, deeper than his still fucked up ribs. It hurt just to keep his core in a chokehold to stop it from calling to him. Never mind the near irresistable longing; Danny wanted so badly to go to him. 

Danny couldn’t let himself. 

Yet it was Helmet, not Danny, cornered right now. Caught in the act of something at the kitchen island. There was a small piece of paper on the island and Danny was curious. 

And there were also still so many unanswered questions. How could he hear Danny but not respond? What was that thing about the anger he’d mentioned? Why had he given Danny back his backpack and the spectral calibrator? The calibrator in particular, because that one strictly speaking didn’t belong to Danny. Why was he stocking up food in an apartment he clearly didn’t live in? For Danny?

All were questions he couldn’t get answers to by running away. 

Danny just had to keep his instincts on a tight leash. 

Watching warily for any sudden movements, Danny slowly phased the rest of the way into the apartment. His beat up sneakers barely made a sound as he touched down on the wooden floors, but still Danny flinched. 

Their eyes met and both held their breath.

Helmet looked away first. In fact he pointedly looked anywhere but at Danny now, seemed very intent on studying the counter now picking at non-existent dirt. 

Somehow him not looking made it easier to walk closer and he carefully did. There was a whole kitchen island between them - that had to be enough for Danny’s paranoia. 

He now stood where Helmet had stood when he came through the wall, he could pick up the paper. 

It was heating instructions - for him.

His resolve crumbled and the paper crinkled as he clutched it like his life depended on it. Such a little detail. Not just the food left here, but instructions. When was the last time anyone had cared like this?

“Why-” His voice broke and tears prickled at his eyes. He cleared his throat and swallowed before trying again. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked from Danny to the note in his hand, seemed to mentally discard something, before admitting quietly, “I know what starving is like.” 

Danny balked. “I eat.”

“I took a backpack full of protein bars off you.”

Danny grimaced. Just eating the sandwiches left for him here had been a vast improvement. So what if he didn’t eat well, he ate enough to survive. The fact that Danny could cling to existence through force of will was something he didn’t want to examine - his human half was still alive that had to be what mattered. 

“So this anger thing,” Danny forcefully changed the subject like a bull bursting into a China shop, “tell me about it.”

Helmet tensed and that in turn made Danny tense. He might have overstepped. The moment was long and drawn out as Danny waited for the other shoe to drop. Slowly, Helmet let out a long sigh and forcefully relaxed his body. It didn’t put Danny entirely at ease, but it helped.

“There’s not much to tell,” he faked at nonchalance but there was something tightly leashed in his voice. 

Danny didn’t buy it for one second. “Try again.”

There was a grimace and it looked almost like there was some sort of internal fight going on, until eventually he spoke. 

“I got exposed to some nasty shit, ever since then I’ve had anger issues. I only realized once they were gone how pervasive they were.”

He looked away.

“I have hurt people - killed people - I thought they deserved it, but I’m not so sure anymore, not for all of them.” And there was pain there, in his voice, in his face, this was a hard thing to admit, not just to himself, but out loud to someone else. 

Danny’s heart ached for him. The silence stretched between them and Danny prompted gently, hesitantly, because he didn’t understand this part himself: “And I make it better?”

“For about two days, give or take.” There was an affected casualness in the tone, but Danny noticed the way his hands clenched into tight fists. It had been about two weeks since Danny had last been in a room with the man. Two weeks since Danny had had any physical contact. He harshly clamped down the projection of longing before it could escape his grasp. 

It was, Danny realized, no wonder that Helmet had chased him so vehemently. He could not only hear Danny’s call for him, but he had something of his own he struggled with. Something that Danny could apparently do something about, or rather his core song, if Danny was putting the pieces together right.  

But Helmet wasn’t chasing now. It must have been two torturous weeks.

“You have found a way to nullify my powers, why not just use that?”

Helmet’s jaw clenched. “It’s not exactly nice.”

“Didn’t stop you two weeks ago.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” He snarled taking a step forward eyes glowing ectoplasmic green.

Danny took a step back at once cautious and intrigued. Not a ghost, but definitely something. 

It looked like it took great effort, but he stepped back, plastered himself back against the cupboard and his eyes were blue again. Softly, he whispered “I only ever wanted answers.”

He wanted help. Danny’s breath caught. He was asking Danny for help, even if it wasn’t in those specific words. Danny looked down at the handwritten note in his hand. Helmet hadn’t planned for meeting today. He’d been just as shocked as Danny. He’d written him instructions with no guarantee Danny would ever help him, despite struggling with this anger. 

Danny did not owe him anything, Danny was not beholden to anyone in this dimension, but he was asking for help.

Danny hesitantly stepped around the counter. 

Mentally he countered each argument for why this was stupid. 

He took a step forward. There was no trap. Danny chose to believe him when he said he didn’t want to use whatever device that had been on him. 

Danny took another step forward, and step after step until he was right in front of him. Danny didn’t look up to see whatever expression may be on his face, it was easier like this standing face to chest. And it was a nice chest, wearing a red henley worn soft and fuzzy through countless washes. It was easy to take the last step into his space and lean his forehead forward to rest against him. 

It was harder to let go of the tight ball he’d pulled his emotions into. 

“Can I?” Helmet asked, arms hovering slightly away from him. 

“Yeah,” Danny replied hoarsely, and then arms settled around him hesitantly, warm, human - not tight or trapping him, it was considerate but not what Danny needed. A wounded sound left his chest and he pressed closer. He clenched his eyes shut but still tears ran wet tracks down his cheeks as he finally gave in - let go. 

His core was a cacophony of grief warring with happiness. Melancholy and joy twisting and churning neither one really winning. Danny was so tired and worn he couldn’t focus on what he should feel. All this and maybe he couldn’t even help him? 

If he couldn’t get the happiness going what use was he?

But then the arms tightened around him and it was a proper hug. He was being held. There was a hand in his hair tugging him into the crook of Helmet’s neck, as he bent slightly over to surround him. Danny’s forehead against the crook of his neck, skin again skin. A warm body. A fast heartbeat in his ears. 

He was not alone. 

His core thrummed with the knowledge. 

Danny lost time. 

It was terrifying. It could have five minutes or an hour that they stood there for all Danny knew. He had been so lost in the warmth of human contact and the content song of his core. 

A shiver of fear went up his spine and he tensed.

Last time he had fallen asleep. That, he could at least understand. He’d been extremely exhausted after everything that happened. But this was different. Danny didn’t even know if he would have noticed Helmet moving him - he hadn’t; they still stood in the exact same spot. 

He made to draw away and for one heart-stopping fraction of a second, Danny thought Helmet wouldn’t let him go. But that was uncharitable, he had to give Helmet time to even realize what he was doing. Just cause Danny’s brain was running a mile a minute, and a second seemed like an eternity, didn’t mean it was to anyone else - and Helmet did let him slide out of his arms. Danny looked up, eyes just a bit wide. He was trying to stay calm, he was. He didn’t know how to interpret Helmet’s expression. His eyes met Danny’s, his brows were doing something, his mouth was a line downturned at the corners. His arms were raised, drawn back just slightly after Danny slipped away.

Danny took another step back.

Helmet didn’t move. Danny realized suddenly what the expression was; he looked sad.

Danny’s core pulsed painfully, and his breath stuttered. He wanted to go back to that embrace, he wanted to stay and forget everything else. 

It was all he could do not to run, because those feelings were terrifying in and of themselves. He turned and he carefully walked to the far wall. He stopped there, clenched his trembling hands. His eyes trailed an uneven line on the white wallpaper. 

This wasn’t just about him.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, loud enough he was sure Helmet could hear him. Then he couldn’t hold back anymore and he threw himself through the wall. His heart raced in his chest all the way back to his lair. 

It went against every cautious bone in his body to reveal he’d be somewhere at a specific time, even such a vague promise as the day after tomorrow. It was as much as he could get himself to do.

It wasn’t just about him. 

-

Alright and that's probably it for the rapid updates, this part mostly needed edits to fit better with what actually ended up happening in the earlier parts and I hadn't written the ending, I wasn't sure I'd get the time today, but I did so, tadaa!

Things are going better! It's not all misery anymore.

Danny wasn't quite this terrified early in the story, but then he felt relatively safe in his ability to get out of situations. Having his powers knocked out, really brought up a boatload of trauma. It's just also really making him out of sorts to be that at odds with his core.

I hope it makes sense.

[4sturns]

BREAK THE INTERNET

camboy!chris s. x fem!viewer!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: being chris' top tipper and most loyal viewer, you're gifted with a private one on one cyber call with your favorite camboy.

warnings: cyber sex, sub!chris (reader tells him what to do), whining and whimpering, use of vibrator, praise kink (4sturns knows what praise is ????? woah ...), orgasm denial, use of petnames (mamas, baby, etc.), not proofread!

wc: 1.822

a/n: sat there thinking about how kinky i am compared to others in the fandom and suddenly had the great idea of writing for camboy!chris because god he'd be such a pretty camboy .. thank you for 500 followers too this is for you guys ❤️‍🩹 also brace yourselves because this is probably the longest fic i have ever written in all my years of writing

you're sat at your desk, your laptop propped up at an angle which conceals your face, but shows off your breasts which are clad in a red lacy bra.

there's music playing lowly on a speaker somewhere on the other side of the room, something you put on to calm down your nerves.

you bounce your leg, waiting anxiously as you wait for chris' call notification to pop up on your screen.

you've been a viewer of chris' for a while. he was the first camboy you'd ever encountered and he was certainly your favorite. something about him and how he always gives in to his tippers made you cash in on his streams. he was just so good, so obedient, and so pretty.

unbeknownst to you, you had somehow became his top tipper in the span of a couple months. what you expected to be a cumulative amount of fifty dollars, maybe sixty, turned out to be close to ten times the price you assumed you had tipped him.

even with the initial shock, you still couldn't blame yourself for giving him so much money. he was just so good for you, giving you exactly what you wanted and asked of him every single time.

a sudden and loud tone rings from your laptop speakers making you jump from the unexpected noise. the screen flashes with chris' name and his provocative profile picture, your heart rate picking up at the sight. a shaky hand reaches up to the track pad to accept the call, not before a nervous breath leaves your body.

the call zooms in to show you a full view of chris' camera. his face is out of view, similar to you, but he's sporting a white tank top and plaid pajama pants in comparison to your red bra and black silk shorts.

through your little square screen in the corner, you can visibly see your chest heaving. your mouth feels dry, heart pounding uncontrollably. normally you'd feel fine, but that was when it was chris talking to his entire audience, not just you individually.

"hey mamas," chris greets you, he sounds just as breathless as you. "god, you look so good in that set."

you crack a faint smile although he can't see it. a hand goes up to play with the necklace around your neck, relieving some tension as you work up a response.

"not too bad yourself, chris." you can see him shift around, a muffled moan piercing through your speakers gains your attention.

"already worked up? is it because of my boobs on your screen or because you like my voice a little too much, baby?" you're almost shocked at your own words, you were just shaking a moment ago and now you're taunting the very guy you'd get off to almost nightly for the past three months.

"fuck, if you don't stop teasing me i might just cum in my pants." chris moves his camera back to reveal his face. you're stunned for a second, taking in his beauty. it's not the first time you've seen his face, but you swear he gets prettier every day.

based on chris' chuckle, you're sure he saw the way your chest spiked up with the silent gasp you let out when he showed his face.

"tell me what to do, mamas. you're in control of me tonight." his words are spoken quietly, but god do they do a number on you.

"can you— can you touch yourself, for me?" you stutter slightly. you're so used to giving him commands through his chat that giving him a verbal command one on one makes you lightheaded.

without a word, chris' hand inches towards the bulge in his pants. he starts palming himself through his pants as small whimpers leave his mouth. you're sitting back in your chair, your face from the nose down is now visible on the screen. your eyes are fixed to the screen as your entire body starts to heat up.

"can i take off my shirt? please, ma." he's still palming himself, but he stares right into the camera. you can't bring yourself to speak, so you nod your head, praying he gets the memo despite how little of your face is actually showing.

thankfully he does, his free hand gripping the bottom of his top before swiftly removing the garment. his soft, long hair bounces back into place, covering part of his eyes in a way that makes him look like an angel. a sinful angel.

suddenly, chris stops palming himself, his hand going to dip past the waistband of his pants. he quickly whips out his dick before hissing at the cold air which hits his tip.

you're in awe, no matter how many times you've seen his dick before, it'll never quite compare to how good it looks in this moment. but once the feeling subsides, you quickly remember something.

"i never told you you could take your dick out of your pants, did i?" you're now leaning forward, as if challenging chris through the screen. there's no battle however, as panic quickly flashes through chris' features.

his mouth springs open as floods of apologies and excuses leave his mouth, although you're not quite picking up what he's saying. your eyes are piercing your laptop screen as you notice his tip leaking a clear liquid. you watch as his entire cock twitches when you let out a low chuckle.

"i'm sorry, please, i'm a good boy! i swear i'm a good boy." chris pleads with you, causing a wave of heat to overtake your body. you say nothing as he continues to ramble. but you know you can't keep him waiting, you'd be torturing yourself more than him.

"show me how good you are and stroke yourself for me, hmm?" chris complies almost instantly, his head nodding frantically as he wraps a hand around his hard cock. whimpers and high pitched whines fill up your speakers as you instruct him to stroke himself faster. but just that isn't enough for you.

"can you do something for me, baby?" chris' eyes open, an eager smile crosses his face as he momentarily pauses his movements.

"anything for you, mamas." his hair flops around as he nods his head.

"grab that little black vibrator, the one you know i like." you remember the first time you stumbled onto chris' live broadcast. you remember how tightly he was gripping the base of his cock as he held a vibrator right under his angry, red tip. you remember how loud his whimpers were, how much he was begging for release. the image of his cum painting his stomach white as the buzzing continues in the back is something that will never fail to make you moan.

chris comes back into frame holding the toy, a devious smile makes it way onto your face. it's caught on your camera and you can tell chris knows your intentions aren't pure from the way he visibly gulps. regardless, he sits back down infront of his screen before positioning himself to face you again.

"use it on yourself, the same way you always do." the words leave your mouth sounding more like a command than you'd like, although it really is a command.

chris takes your words seriously as he quickly fumbled with the buttons on the little toy to turn it on. a breathy moan leaves his mouth as he finally lowers it down to circle around his tip. the sight is breathtaking. chris' head tipped back as his hand grips at the base of his cock so tightly you're surprised it's not turning a shade of purple. the vibrator soon finds home right under his tip, buzzing away at his sweet spot.

you bite your bottom lip to conceal your moans, a hand sneakily sliding into your silk bottoms as you feel your soaked folds. your fingers move quickly to collect your arousal before dipping into your throbbing cunt. a whine escapes your lips right as chris lets out a rather loud groan.

you know he's close, but you can't let him go yet. not before you do.

"you're such a good boy for me, so good." you lean back in your chair, propping a leg up on the table to get a better angle, maximizing your own pleasure.

chris' eyes flicker open to take a quick peak at his laptop screen. he nearly cums at the sight. your face is now fully in frame, except it's twisted in pleasure. your fingers moved fast, plunging in and out of your soaked cunt as strings of profanity leave your puffy lips. he thought your voice was pretty, but he never expected the voice to belong to a goddess like you.

"fuck, ma. i'm so close," your eyes open to watch chris' face as he turns the intensity of the vibrator up a level. his eyes are shut tight, but you can still see the tears pricking at his eyes as the pleasure builds up.

"hold it for me, baby. be my good boy and wait for me." an anguished cry leaves chris' throat, though he obeys you and holds himself back from his release.

on your end, you're working hard to reach your own release. you've long discarded your bottoms, having thrown them to the floor somewhere behind you. one hand works diligently to draw circles on your clit, while the other drills into your pussy relentlessly.

"i can't, please i need to come so badly. i've been a good boy, right? please, mamas. i need it." chris is in tears by now, the muscles in his stomach flexing with how much force he has put in so far to control himself for you.

you can feel yourself approaching your own climax, strained moans are pulled from your body as you find the energy in you to speak.

"go ahead, baby. paint your stomach white for me like the good boy you are." through your laptop speakers, you can hear chris' loud pants and whimpers as his orgasm washes over him, a cry of your name leaving his lips in such an erotic moan that you're sent over the edge.

your legs tremble and shake as you let your orgasm rip through your body. your body feels like it's on fire, little surges of electricity rage through your body even after the buzz of your orgasm fades.

you peer over at your laptop screen to see chris has discarded the vibrator, though his hand is still working to give his dick a few final strokes before going limp. his stomach is coated in thick ropes of cum, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"did i do good for you, mamas?" chris asks, his voice barely above a whisper, clearly spent from all his whining.

"you did so good for me, such a good boy. you're my baby boy."

[rahhhbananas]

IT GIRL ★

- male reader!

- fandom : atsv!

- pair(s) : miles morales x male reader

- warning(s) : not proof-read!

“How long is this going to takee???”

Pavitr whined, he sat on the fire escape stairs, mindlessly fidgeting a rock. Gwen leaning against the bars smiled, “Come on Pav, it’s Y/n. He takes hours and I mean hourssss— To get ready.” Pav groaned at that statement alone, no longer bothered about how long it would take them, but how long it take to get something to eat.

“You talkin ‘bout Y/n, the hell Miles at? ‘Is got a good sense of fashion, but not good enuff to take this long.” Hobie groaned, his own stomach growling, Gwen snorted, her eyes crinkling from how large her smile was “This is only scraping the surface of those two. Once you’ve know them for a year or two, you start to prepare ahead of time.” Gwen reached into her bag, handing the two a bag of chips. “There, that should hold you guys.”

The two thanked their prepared friend, before their attention was draw to the window that had just opened. Miles walked out, he wore a black baggy jeans, a white shirt, and ontop of it navy blue varsity jacket, with white air forces. He smiled, as if he hasn’t been making the entire friend group starve for the past 20 minutes “Miles, my guy!!!”

“Oi! I trademarked that!”

“What?”

“I’m surprised you did anything involved being in the same room as a government official.”

“Yeah, ‘ve gotten real desperate after the last situation with Pav.”

“That wasn’t my faulttt!”

“What situation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Okay..ignoring that totally normal..conversation, where’s Y/n? He’s glamorous and all, but taking this long? Is outrageous.” Gwen asked, sneaking a chip from Hobie’s bag.

“I’M HERE!! ★”

The group looked up, seeing Y/n on the set of stairs above them. He wore a cropped pink jacket, baggy jeans, white air forces, and on his back was a hello kitty backpack “So, where we feeling? Chinese, Pizza, BBQ? Oh, or Ice cream!” He rambled, not noticing the few irritated looks he got from his friends. “ANYTHING!” Pav screamed, using his hands to cover his face, “Anything, please.” Miles smiled, leading the group down the street, they chatted still deciding on their snacking spot.

“Oh! That cat café!” Gwen suggested, her eyes lite up at the thought of being surrounded by cute animals while enjoying a meal.

“Nah, ‘m allergic to cats.”

“And you care about your health for once? Shocking.”

“You don’t get it, bruv. My eyes swell so much I start thinking I’m in a kaleidoscope..”

“How does that even work?”

“We traveled through universes to get here, and that’s what you wanna ask?”

“Why don’t you say that louder, Pav? Maybe some crazy scientist will hear and try to kill us.”

“That’s so outta pocket.”

“lol.”

“Wow.”

“I have never heard someone say ‘lol’ in real life..that’s so— icky.”

“Pheww, good job, Gwen. Y/n has a new ‘ick’. Bravo.”

The group walked into the restaurant. It seemed to be based off the heros of Brooklyn, “Ugh, why’d we have to come to your restaurant?” Pav groaned. Hobie snorted, picking at the small figures of Spiderman, Miles’ black and red suit somehow blending with the restaurant aesthetic— he even noticed a few figures of the original hero, his merchandise in a corner that formed a sort of mural. The cashier took their orders, before they sat down at a booth near to the window.

“Do they have some of my merchandise!?!” Y/n looked around, his eyes searching the brick walls for some bit of pink. He sighed, giving up, slumping down in his seat, “Hey look, I think I saw some pink over there!” Hobie pointed, Y/n blinded by joy looked at where the teen was pointing to see a piece of chewed up bubble gum stucked to the floor, “…Why do I feel like we have issues, no matter the universe.”

“Hey, the people want what they want. And it’s clearly not you.”

“Wow, no consistency, or manners. Red flag there, Hobie.”

“Yikes.” Pavitr mumbled, sipping from his drink. Hobie however shook it off, relaxing more into his position. Miles took out his phone, snapping a few pics of the group waiting on their food, before the waiter arrived, handing out the dishes efficiently.

AN HOUR LATER!! ★

“Man, I am stuffed!” Hobie cackled, getting up from his seat. Gwen rolled her eyes, before looking at Y/n, he took his card and receipt back from the waiter. Joining his friends at the exit, the sun was starting to go down. “Damn, sundown already?” Hobie looked at his watch, noticing how late it truly was. Gwen laughed, “We left pretty late, because of two certain people.” Gwen jerked her head towards Y/n and Miles who were mindlessly talking about something while holding hands, the way they childishly would swing them every once and then looked somewhat endearing.

“We should head back to our universes though. Miguel set a curfew for a reason.”

“Or, we could brea-“

“Nope, the guy looked like he wanted to blow a vein last time I saw him. And I’m not looking to get chased on all fours, likes Miles.”

“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t catch us!”

“Hobart, no. We’re leaving.”

“Miguel not catching us? Hobie you are HILARIOUS!”

Gwen grabbed Hobie’s wrist, who although didn’t oppose the gesture physically, he looked to be doing it mentally “You’re lucky ‘m tired, Gwendy.” Gwen rolled her eyes, before throwing the lanky teen into the portal, waving goodbye to the two. Pavitr jumped through as well, shooting finger-guns at Miles before falling into the colorful abyss.

Miles smiled, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulder. Making their route to his apartment. The couple chatted on their way home, talking about nothing important, but what’d they do when they got outta highschool, you know, the norm. Until they arrived at Y/n’s apartments, Miles walked him to the stairs, his eyes focused on Y/n’s each move.

“Thanks for buying our food today, especially with how Hobie and Pavitr ate. I’ll find a way to pay you back…” Miles mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck. Y/n smiled, grabbing Miles’ arm “No. don’t worry about it, you guys are my friends. I’d spend much more money on all of you If I could.” Miles laughed, “Yeah. But I’m starting to think Hobie’s allergic to paying for…well, anything.”

Y/n laughed loudly “And what you said earlier, I don’t have a lot of ‘icks” Miles scoffed, looking at his boyfriend in disbelief at the statement. Y/n groaned “I’m serious! You’ll never have to worry about icks, because you’re perfect.”

“Really? Thanks. 😏”

“You know, except that.”

“A smirk!?!?!”

“Yeah, it makes you look like a Sonic character.”

“What??”

“But I should go, my dad’s probably already made lunch.” Y/n kissed Miles on the cheek, before walking into the apartment doors.

“Wha? You can’t walks away like that!!”

“Is it a sonic character you hate??”

“What? No, i love Shadow!”

[leandra-winchester]

The Spy who Loved Me

Inspired by the unhinged spy!Tommy theory and all the amazing fandom responses, here's a little something I just wrote.

~*~

“Maybe they should hire you to play the next Bond,” Buck says and looks up from where he’s snuggled against Tommy’s side.

“Me?”

There’s that now quite familiar look of amused disbelief on Tommy’s face that Buck’s come to adore; if he’s perfectly honest, he’s said the one or other surprising and outrageous thing just to trigger it.

He bites his bottom lip, but feels the grin stretch on his lips nevertheless. “Uh-huh. I think you’d look amazing in a tux.”

Tommy huffs out a small chuckle and trains his eyes back onto the TV where Daniel Craig is wearing said tux. He looks great in it, too, but Buck is convinced Tommy would look at least ten times hotter in the same outfit.

“Too bad they don’t hire Americans for the role,” Tommy says with a soft sigh. “Although, I have been informed I can do a smashing Bri’ish accent.”

Buck snorts out a laugh. “That was terrible.”

“Hey!” Tommy retorts with fake indignation.

“It was— uh. Pretty bad. Not nearly as convincing as your fake mouth static.”

There’s a gleam of amusement in Tommy’s eyes for a second before his expression goes nearly blank. He turns his head a bit more closely towards Buck and says, “Why is it that people who can’t take advice always insist on giving it?”

For a split-second, Buck is taken aback, but just as he sees the hint of a smirk tug at one corner of Tommy’s mouth, he remembers just having heard that line in the movie a few minutes ago. He lets out another soft chuckle and rests his head back on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Okay, that was— uh— a little better.”

“Just a little? Let’s hear yours then.”

“Uh, no. I— uhm, couldn’t do a convincing ‘Bri’ish’ accent if my life depended on it.”

“Well then,” Tommy says, no longer trying to imitate an English pronunciation, “I suppose this Bond is gonna have an American ‘Bond Boy’ then.”

Buck feels another chuckle bubble up his throat, paired with a small tingling deeper in his belly — a playful excitement as he lifts his head once more. “Mr. Bond, you’re really good at faking an American accent, you know that?”

There’s just the hint of a huffed-out chuckle coming from Tommy before his face and tone turn serious again. “All part of my training. You should hear my Austrian accent,” he says in what sounds like a somewhat convincing impersonation of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Buck can’t help but laugh at that but tries to play along. “Yeah, that— uh— that was pretty convincing. Hm. Maybe you are a spy.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, brows raised. “You have any valid reasons to suspect me?”

Buck pretends to think and shrugs. “Well. You showing up that closely to when Captain Jackass did? Maybe… uhm. Maybe he planted you long before to prepare his hostile takeover?”

Tommy responds with a shocked expression of mock outrage, but then sighs. “Okay. You blew my cover. I am a spy. In fact, I’ve been studying you for months.”

“Really?” Buck asks, that silly excitement once more bubbling up in his belly and chest. “So you— uh— being friends with Eddie first was part of that?”

“All just a ploy. It started earlier than that. In fact, we’ve got our own mad scientist on our side who caused the freak hurricane that capsized the cruise ship.”

“Wow. I knew it,” Buck replies, trying to swallow the giggle of amusement that wants to escape him.

“Yeah. There’s just one problem with the whole scenario,” Tommy says with another sigh.

“What’s this?” Buck asks and watches Tommy’s gaze turn softer, whatever playful pretense in it almost entirely gone now as he looks directly into Buck’s eyes.

“I’ve fallen in love with my target.”

A breath leaves Buck on its own accord, pushed out of his lungs with the swell of emotion that makes his heartbeat pick up. “Y— yeah?”

“Mhm,” Tommy nods solemnly, one hand reaching out to Buck’s neck, his thumb gently brushing along the line of his jaw as his face moves closer. “Guess I have no choice but to turn double agent now.”

Before Buck can respond, he feels Tommy’s lips on his. It’s a soft, gentle contact at first, but it takes his breath away nevertheless. Despite the little ‘roleplay’, the emotion, the affection he feels in the kiss is more real than he ever remembers it feeling with anyone before.

And then it deepens. Tommy’s stealing the breath from Buck’s lips as he licks into his mouth. There’s a huffed, trembling sound following it that Buck equally seeks to devour, and the tingling in his stomach shoots lower and runs all the way up his spine with a yearning hunger.

Holding onto Tommy’s lips for a moment longer, memorizing the taste and sensation as if he can’t get a dozen more just minutes after, Buck finally draws away. He’s shifted on the couch, half kneeling on the surface now next to Tommy, and one hand on his shoulder. A smirk forms on his lips as he lets his hand drift slowly, deliberately, down Tommy’s front to his belt buckle.

“Maybe I should blow more than just your cover?”

Tommy lets out a tiny chuckle, his brows going up a fraction with a subtle, suggestive glance.

“I knew being a spy would really pay off one day,” he says as his hand drifts to the back of Buck’s head, gently pushing him downwards.

On the TV, the Bond movie remains entirely forgotten.

[sadesluvr]

Hi, if you're fine with it could you write doctor!William and patient!fem!reader and William fucks the reader in her hospital bed after lying to her about something. What it is, up to you. Happy holidays!

A/N: Thanks for the respectful ask Anon! Happy new year!!🎉 The irony of this was that the day before I got this req I’d literally read a fic for another fandom that was similar to the concept lmao. I’m sorry it’s taken a while, thanks for being patient! :)

WARNING: Reader is a little naive, or has amnesia (You chose). Below the cut will contain dub-con, manipulation and abuse of power. Minors DNI, and read at your own discretion. 

“Dr Afton…Am I going to be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re under my care after all…”

You’d come to Dr Afton a few weeks ago, concerned with the fact that you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. You’d tried essential oils, music, even pills - all to no avail. Now, not only could you not sleep, but you were even more tired than before, becoming no stranger to headaches and irritability.

William had almost cum in his pants when you’d come back to him, eyes heavy and on the brink of tears; desperate and pleading for him to ‘fix’ you. In that moment, he almost felt bad that he’d given you stimulants, the same given to people who suffered from narcolepsy.

Today you were lying flat on the sterile medical beds, face up as your legs were spread in stirrups. Dr Afton had requested you to take off your underwear, and your pussy was exposed to the cool of the room. You were a little embarrassed, but luckily a sheet was draped over the bottom half, so you couldn’t see the man’s face.

“What is it?” you asked slowly, hearing as the man clicked his flashlight off. He sighed and hummed, and you’d come to know that it wasn’t one of promise.

“Forgive me for asking, sweetheart, but…How many sexual partners have you had?” he said, clearing his throat.

You swallowed.

“Um…One?” you said unsurely, biting your lip. “It was a while ago…On prom night,”

“Hm,” William said, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk. He didn’t know how you’d made it through three years of college without sex, but he was certainly glad. “I think I’ve found the source of your problem…”

“Really?” you squealed, and William adjusted his glasses in anticipation. Even though he’d locked the door, there was still a risk. If a nurse was to try and wander in, it would certainly ring alarm bells. He’d have to make this quick.

“Uh-huh,” he sang, and you were pleased to hear the glee in his voice. Dr Afton took his job so seriously! “Sweetheart, the source of your insomnia isn’t from the head - well, not directly - but your hormones. Most specifically, your endocrine system,”

“Oh,” you said. You remembered that stuff from high school. But how did that have anything to do with sleeping?

William sighed.

“The secret to a good night's rest is simply through achieving orgasm. You haven’t had sex in four years - and I assume you don’t masturbate - and your hormones are all messed up because of it. Upon reaching orgasm, we release oxytocin - the happy hormone - which in turn makes us relaxed, and then sleepy. Not to mention the physical movement that comes with sex,”

You were in shock. How could it have been so simple? How were you going to start having these, let alone every night so that you could sleep?

“Dr Afton, I –”

“No worrying about it, darling,” he hummed, beginning to shush you. “I’ve got just the thing…”

He was oh-so quiet as he zipped down his pants, his already hard cock jutting out of the hole. Taking off his gloves, he gave himself a few languid strokes before placing a hand on your knee, peeking over the cloth to get a glimpse at you. You were staring up at him with curious eyes, squirming slightly under his cold hands. It was different without his gloves.

“I’m just going to run a few tests, okay?” he smiled, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “It may hurt, and it might feel a little uncomfortable, but it’s going to help, okay? Call my name if you want something, alright?”

You nodded.

“W-What is your name?” you said, suddenly shy. Calling a doctor by their first name felt strangely intimate. 

“William,” he said, nodding at you before he disappeared back under the sheet, placing his hands on your thighs to signal for you to spread them apart. As you did, he lined his cock up with your entrance, taking a moment to rub his nub; pink and leaking with precum, along your folds. He let out a low groan as he felt you tremble.

“Just one of my tools, baby,” he assured you. “Don’t worry, it’s sterile, of course,”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the feeling. Whatever William was using was warm, slightly sticky and thick, yet it was making you feel good. You felt your thighs begin to quiver in anticipation, a hot, pulsing sensation rushing to your privates, in turn making it easier for William’s tool to glide across your pussy.

He hummed at the feeling of you growing wetter. Slyly, he placed his thumb onto your clit, beginning to rub it in circles as he pushed his head into you without warning, making you gasp. He hissed as he sank deeper into you, hands gripping the styrofoam of the chair, his body looming over you slightly. He could see the top of your face, eyebrows furrowed to the ceiling at the strange sensation, your lips slightly parted and wet. He longed to be able to kiss them; to hold you a little closer as he took all of you, but time was of the essence.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Almost there…”

He grumbled, choking back a moan as he bottomed into you, glancing down to admire your skin-on-skin contact. You were so fucking tight, and wet, that he was surprised he hadn’t broken you - much more he cum right on the stop.

“W-William…” you moaned, covering your mouth at the whorish sound. “It’s — The tool…It’s big…”

“Does it feel good?” was all he said, and he smirked as you nodded, a small whine escaping your mouth as you did. The man chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “This is gonna put you to sleep baby, I promise,”

He withdrew his hips before slamming them back into you, your head lolling against the rest. The sudden pressure was alarming, but it felt amazing, and as if a miracle had taken place you could feel your body relaxing already. Your breasts moved with the contact under the plastic garment, and you reached up to cup them, in turn making you feel even better. William grinned, watching in awe as your pussy took him completely, keeping up with the frantic movements from his greedy thrusts. He wished you were a virgin, that he could’ve popped your cherry right there and then, hugging and comforting you at the fact that you’d bled. Still, you only having one man (boy was the far more accurate term) was far better than two, and he could tell that you moaned and gripped him that this was what you were missing in your life. Desperate to bring you to your peak, he rubbed your clit eagerly, the feeling of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly bringing you to a point of overstimulation. Your raw nipples rubbed against the material of your gown, creating a friction that both pleasured you and made the nubs harden further, practically displaying themselves for William. A thumb on your clit turned into an index finger in your pussy, gently moving against the man’s own base. William’s grunts, the filling, yet rhythmic sensation and the build up of tears in your eyes at your sheer emotion was building up to too much.

It was bittersweet agony when you came. You didn’t know for how long, but you knew you blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your chest heaved and legs quivered. For a moment, William was nothing, just a figment of your imagination, but a wet, sticky sensation filling your cunt and dripping down your thighs brought you back to life.

Your limbs felt lifeless, eyes heavy, and a warm feeling spread across your body. Dr Afton had been right all along.

“I hope you feel better, sweetheart,” he said, words nothing but a jumble in your brain as you came down from your high. “Do note that this is only a temporary fix – I’ll need to see you in three days for an immediate checkup. From there, we’ll need to work out a year-long schedule. It’s imperative I monitor your progress.”

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail Pairings: Jing Yuan x Fem!reader x Blade Warnings: NSFW, !dark! content, i guess, yandere, non-con, threesome, oral sex, anal sex, creampie, squirt, a little rough treatment from Blade.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq 

Yeah, i can't stop writing threesome wth my favorite men. But these two look especially good together…

You'd rather die than be trapped between two incarnations of the devil himself.

If it once seemed to you that Jing Yuan is soft enough against the background of a ruthless and cruel Blade, then this is not so at all. Right now he doesn't pay attention to your words of protest, or the tears running down your cheeks, or the way your legs are desperately trying to push his face away from your crotch, while Blade calmly fixes your wrists at the head of the bed. The general is gentle only in showering you with sickly sweet speeches and praises, from which your stomach twists in vomiting. The smile, forever frozen on his face, from the outside may seem soft and saturated with love when his gaze meets yours, but how can «love» and Jing Yuan get along in the same sentence when his tongue collects the moisture of your treacherous excitement, completely not caring about how your body trembles with fear and the look of fear rushes from the greedy eyes of the General to the quietly chuckling Blade, unbuttoning his fly.

— Mmm, you are amazing, dear, — Jing Yuan, after what seemed like an eternity, finally breaks away from your wet folds, contentedly licking his lips shiny from your salty slime. — Blade, come here.

— Tsk, — you almost exhale with relief when the gloomy tall figure of Blade moves away from you, moving to the edge of the bed, where the smug General is sitting. — What do you…?!

Both yours and Blade's eyes seem to expand in sync with shock when Jing Yuan bites into his lips in a kiss. You can almost feel his tongue sliding into Blade's mouth, like he's doing it to you. Blade's face expresses silent displeasure, but he doesn't try to pull away. It makes you sick to realize that the tongues of these men now share your taste. How disgusting they are. You take advantage of the moment and check the strength of the ropes that bind your hands. As expected, Blade is too good at everything that concerns your torment, so the rope painfully cuts into the skin of your wrists, preventing you from even pulling tight threads, no matter how you try to do it.

— Bastard, what are you doing? — Blade finally pushes General away, wiping his lips irritably with the back of his hand.

— I share with you the taste of our princess, — you again feel the weight of Jing Yuan's gaze from under half-closed eyelids, when he looks at the curves of your naked body without hesitation. Amber eyes rest on your trembling thighs, which are desperately trying to stay closed in a futile attempt to prevent any of them from thrusting a dick into you. But you know perfectly well that it's useless.

— You're too gentle with her, Jing Yuan.

You try to shrink, hide in a corner, do anything to avoid Blade's touch when his hands reach for your closed thighs, but strong long fingers inevitably press into your soft flesh, spreading your legs wide apart and opening up a view of your crotch for him. You whine, trying not to die right there from shame. Blade has always been intimidating. His habit of scrutinizing the most intimate parts of your body has always made you burn with embarrassment and disgust. You always knew that after that his heavy cock would painfully stretch your insides, but you just wanted to get it over with faster and hide from the eyes of two bastards using your body as a toy to satisfy their perverted needs.

They've never used you together before. It always had to be either Jing Yuan or Blade, and you honestly can't tell which one was less disgusting. But now that the sickening pretense and hypocrisy have merged into a hellish mixture with cruelty and cold-bloodedness, you really began to think that it would have been better for them to finish you off the day they both laid eyes on you. How much you must have angered the whole universe if it has prepared such a test for you?

— You're being too rude, Blade. I like to stretch out the pleasure, while you just use it as a thing. It's wrong, she should enjoy us too, — Jing Yuan's lips are still stretched in the tenderest smile as he gets up from his place on the bed, slowly walking to the head of the bed and stretching out his hands to the rope. — Come on, honey, don't cry. I think I should make you comfortable, huh? You won't be able to accept both of us in this position.

— Tsk, bastard, are you serious? I wasn't going to share her with you at all, — Blade exhales irritably, but pulls away from your hips, allowing Jing Yuan to arrange your bound hands on his shoulders as he embraces you, arranging you astride his body while he lays down on the bed.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your clitoris, sending a sickeningly pleasant shiver through your body. Bitter tears are dripping from your eyes again from the realization of how humiliating it is to feel like such a helpless doll in their hands, especially when the warm slime of betrayal of your body flows down your thighs, surrendered under the pressure of primal desire, which at some point began to rage in your body along with fear of these two every time, when they visit the room allocated for you with one single purpose.

Jing Yuan purrs velvety into the curve of your neck while his heavy palms forcefully press on your hips, forcing you to descend on his dick, the oozing head of which has already aligned with your entrance. You whine and try to pull away from the touch of his lips to the skin of your throat, turning your head to the side. Stretching is so painful, but merges with a pleasant feeling of pleasure because of how slowly his big cock pushes deep into your vagina. Maybe it's because you're trying your best to prevent his big palms from pressing, or maybe it's because the General has always been famous for his addiction to harassing you to madness, it seemed to last forever, nauseating caresses and irritatingly slow movements, which sometimes stopped altogether, forcing you stay impaled on his dick for who knows how long until he gets bored of it.

When the head of Jing Yuan's cock rested against the cervix with a dull pain, making you shudder, completely lowered onto his hips, you almost forgot that there was another person in the room, drilling your figure with a burning predatory gaze, waiting for the moment when he could bloodthirstingly bite into the flesh of his victim. A short cry escaped from your throat when you felt the rough compression of your buttocks by Blade's cold hands. A sharp shiver shot through my spine as a terrifying thought popped into my head about exactly what Jing Yuan meant when he said that you should accept them both.

— N-no! No, please! — you desperately shifted on Jing Yuan's lap in a sudden panic attack when you realized what the man behind you was going to do. Your futile attempts to escape were instantly stopped by the painful pulling of your hair, forcing you to throw your head back.

— Shut up, — Blade growls, leaning over your ear. You freeze when your eardrums are struck by his terrifyingly low, husky voice. It always sounds like the call of your imminent doom, to which your imprisonment here must inevitably lead. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to finally be free of this torment, but you knew they'd never let you die so easily.

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, simply enjoys the view of your throat that has opened up in front of him, the way your muscles tighten when you swallow convulsively, opening your lips and exhaling air intermittently from your painfully constricted lungs. You are so seductive in your defenselessness and weakness. General's lips find their place on your neck again when he lifts up, pressing into your vulnerable throat exposed in front of him, lifting your hips on his cock.

You whimper when you feel another hard organ pressing against your ass, but these pathetic sounds instantly break into a scream when Blade's dick ruthlessly, without any preparation, penetrates inside. He has always been so cruel and seems to be indifferent in his ugly love for you, allowing himself to use you solely for his own pleasure, not caring that he causes you more and more pain over and over again.

The feeling of two members settling into your insides is simply unbearable. You stagger on the verge of insanity when they both start moving in turn, not leaving you for a second free from the weight of their hard organs tearing you apart from the fusion of the feeling of hellish pain caused by Blade and the pleasure that Jing Yuan gives you, steadily pushing up towards your hips, while one of the his palms are persistently caressing your clitoris. Blade, on the other hand, seems to be less ruthless than usual, filling you deeply and roughly, but as if enjoying the feeling of the tightness of your walls, tightly contracting in painful spasms around his impressive girth.

One of Blade's palms rests on your ass, pressing even harder than Jing Yuan's hand, setting a faster pace to your movements.

— How impatient you are, Blade, — Jing Yuan coos into the warm skin of your neck, moving the palm resting on your thigh to Blade's fingers pressing into your elastic flesh.

— Idiot, stop groping me, — Blade growls again behind your back, pressing even harder on your delicate skin, it seems, instantly leaving bruises on it when you feel how their movements become more careless and energetic.

— But I love both of you!

You feel sick every time you hear any words of love from them. These people are not destined to ever understand true love. What they call love is nothing more than the ugly obsession of two sadists who torture you into unconsciousness every time one of them appears at the door of your room.

Your sobs gradually turn into stifled moans. No matter how much you want to feel disgust, it is drowned out by the treacherous pleasure spreading in the bottom of your stomach. Blade pulls your hair even tighter, forcing you to put your head on his shoulder while his hips meet your ass with loud pops. You can feel the heat coming from his sculpted abs and muscular chest, which meet your back whenever his cock returns to your insides. Hoarse moans and growls come out of his throat, stirring your eardrums.

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, behaves quite quietly, as if just enjoying the sounds of your and Blade's pleasure, trying to keep up with the pace set by the Stellaron Hunter. His lips roam over your skin, making their way from the bruises to your chest, where he stops to painfully squeeze one of your nipples between his teeth.

All this is so disgusting and just drives you crazy from the feelings of shame, self-loathing and fear that are tearing your heart out because your body really enjoys the violence that is being done to it. Their members synchronize at some point, making you scream from the way they seem to stimulate all the sensitive places in your insides when they meet each other through the wall separating them from each other. Your nails desperately dig into your own palms, tearing the skin to blood, but you are no longer able to feel this burning pain when your body is tormented by so many sensations that you are not able to cope with. The dimness of the room gradually swirls and fades before your eyes, and the sounds that uncontrollably fly out of your mouth subside when you feel a tight bubble exploding in the bottom of your stomach, scattering into tiny fragments that travel through every nerve in your body. You give up, you go limp, squeezed between two ruthless men who do not pay any attention to how consciousness leaves you, too keen on how your walls are clamped in a tight vice by their members when an orgasm crushes you. Your warm moisture streams onto Jing Yuan's embossed abs and chest, causing his body to shake in a guttural chuckle. Usually he needs more time or he just likes to stretch out the pleasure, but now he feels like his culmination is steadily approaching the bottom of his stomach, and he is unable, and has no desire to hinder it.

Blade feels the same way, spellbound, watching from under heavy eyelids for your extinct face resting on his shoulder. The sight of your impotence makes his massive cock throb and swell in your tight insides until, almost in unison, moans break from the lips of both men, marking the onset of their culmination. Your still-spasming walls are filled with portions of hot sperm, while Blade lowers his head on your shoulder, and Jing Yuan buries his forehead in your chest, catching his breath after a surprisingly intense orgasm.

The men remain motionless for a while, until Blade finally pulls his hand away from his thigh, irritably freeing himself from under the weight of Jing Yuan's palm and leaving your insides, allowing the sperm to vulgarly flow from your ass down the General's cock and his thighs still resting in your vagina. Jing Yuan picks up your body, gently emerging from under your bound hands and also slipping out of you, arranging your limp figure on the bed. The golden irises involuntarily glance over your vulnerable fragile body, stopping at your thighs, between which the pleasure fluids of all three of you have mixed.

— How wonderful. She's really made for both of us.

The General chastely removes the disheveled hair from your sweaty forehead, admiring your relaxed sleeping face. Blade is silent, taking one last look at you before grabbing his scattered belongings from the floor and leaving the room.

To your great regret, it seems that they both came to the same conclusion, although only Jing Yuan dared to voice it out loud, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek before untying the rope on your wrists and following Blade into the bathroom.

[princesssmars]

unexpected

an ellabs x black!streamer!reader

some times your viewers expect you're in a relationship, and one time you spell it out clearly for them.

wc : 1.860

contains : reader is feminine ! the picture is more lightskin but all shades can read <333 ltlvc reference

a/n : coming up with chat usernames is so hard what the fawk??? but yeah while i ignore trolls the ones under these tags were pissing me off so i wrote this for my fellow black girlies <333 i hope u enjoy :)

lets get one thing out of the way, you loved being a streamer. now that you had a good following of a few thousand regular watchers, you were more than financially stable, got to do something you enjoyed as a job, and even made a few new streaming friends.

but when it came to those friends, every content creator knew simple friendships could stir up drama. you had heard of many cases of friendships being strained or ruined because of this job. more specifically because of the fans.

which is why you took an oath to leave finer details like relationships out of your work. if you did tell a story about that time you and your friends nearly got kicked out of a local mall's journey's, you would keep descriptions of friends brief and blank, even resorting to calling people "friend number one, friend number two..."

luckily most of your fans were more than understanding that you wanted to keep some of your life private.

most of them.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

case one : the first p.o. box

it was another po box opening stream you decided to start early in the day, wanting to show and appreciate chat with the things they got for you.

lululemonsz : babe i hope its a new keyboard urs is on a iv drip !

wariolover96 : open it open the box OPEN IT

shelovedantee : damn is there a bomb in it hurry up

you laughed looking at all the people in chat begging you to open the current package in your hand.

"everybody chill out. look, im gonna open the first one now."

you quickly got a pair of scissors to cut off the packing tape on both ends, hurrying to pull the cardboard from its place.

the chat started speeding up when your mouth fell open in shock, slowly reaching in and pulling out the keyboard. it was sleek, mechanical, and your favorite color.

biiiigpoo : omg isnt that thing like $250?

lululemonsz : this as the first gift is CRAZY

ilovestardewmc1237 : one of your viewers is in love with you

you couldn't even respond, turning the keyboard over and back again to admire the details of it. out of the corner of your eye you spot a little yellow sticky note at the bottom, bringing it up to read it without letting the camera see. once you got to the end, your eyes widened and you quickly moved on to the next gifts.

but the light reflecting from your window and monitor was enough for chat to see a few letters on the note. after that, your fandom quickly began talking of a person named "A" who had not only the money to get you crazy expensive keyboards, but was also able to fluster you with a small note.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

case two : the search history.

every so often, your mods would host little events on your stream. these could include giveaways, shitty chat therapy, and little games for everyone to play. today it was a challenege : the more bits people donated, the crazier stuff you had to do for them. it was all pretty tame, and the end goal was one you didnt think you'd manage to hit.

never doubt the power of charisma and a pretty face, because after only three hours you manged to reach that two thousand dollar mark, and chat was raving at what you'd have to reveal next : your search history.

ariagatorr : damn this lowkey invasive 💀

devonchcgo22 : and we dont give a fuck

plantsnparsnip : right open that shit up

"i hate yall, do you know that? like genuinely." you groaned, slowly movied your mouse to open your chrome history.

there wasn't much for chat to bully you about thankfully, just some light teasing about how much you use pinterest and asking what it was you bought on etsy. and just when you thought you were done, someone had to open their big damn mouth.

pian0picass0 : wait a minute why did you open ellies stream THREE times ????

chat started moving faster as they read the comment, everyone asking you to open the stream and show them what was going on. sucking your teeth and denying them as you had shown them what they wanted!

after quickly wrapping up the stream and giving your thanks and goodbyes, a portion of viewers went on a manhunt for any ellie who was streaming at the moment.

once clicking on the stream, they found it was just a casual stream with ellie. she was obviously pretty, but was super laid-back in her jeans and converse as she strummed some songs on her guitar.

"oh hey, welcome to the stream i guess. any requests? i was gonna practice some radiohead because my friend asked for it."

pian0picass0 : hey ellie! do you know who (y/u) is by any chance?

"'sup casso. uhhhh no i dont think i do. did she send yall over here? maybe ill check her channel out."

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

case three : the enhanced dm's

"everybody shut the fuck up and lets start this stupid thing."

this was it, one of your biggest streams of the year. and also the most fun. and most aggravating.

the gist was simple. you and 5 other streamers were thrown into a discord call and whoever lasted the longest through the sleep deprivation and challenges won a heap of cash.

what the hell was it with you getting screwed over by challenges?

it didn't seem that bad. the host, a close friend of yours, told you to share your screen so everyone could decide something to tweet from your twitter.

now, your friends in the call didn't notice what was on your screen when you shared it, and if they did they didn't say anything. but never doubt the perseverance of your crazy ass viewers, because one took the liberty to see exactly what you were saying in that split second they could see your dm's, because they swore they knew that profile picture...

abby : don't worry you'll do fine

abby : you're not gonna get embarrassed by any of the challenges

abby : i hope

y/n : seriously

abby : come onn you know i'm rooting for you &lt;3

y/n : aww thanks bee

abby : yup. for the whole event i'm gonna be your personal cheerleader ^3^

y/n : oooo you gonna put on a uniform for me?

abby : don't push it.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

case four : the voice chat slip up

at this point, there was no point in acting like you didn't know the two streamers.

the first was abby. mostly posted fitness, health, and lifestyle videos on youtube, but would occasionally go live on twitch to talk with her fans or stream herself working out at the gym.

(you may or may not have admitted live that you found her by watching a few of her workout streams. whoops.)

and then there was ellie, a gaming streamer who was known for being chill and quiet when playing music but as loud as a plane engine when playing cs:go. don't even get her started on cod.

but luckily you'd manage to convince her to play some games with you on your latest stream! some stardew, maybe some overcooked. even if she kept burning all of the damn food.

leave it to ellie williams to always surprise you, though.

when you hear the du-dum of the discord join noise, your face lights up and your mouth opens to greet ellie before she beats you to it.

"ok, babe, which game we playin first?"

to make a long story shot, your chat went ballistic and you gave a stern talking to the red head after the stream ended.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

case five : the instagram post

most of the time you leave most of your notifications off to avoid your phone sounding like a constant alarm. but you're guessing your recent endeavor of babysitting your cute but horrifically grabby nephew screwed you over, because before you know it the sound of dozens on instagram notifications are waking you up and pushing your bonnet from where it slipped down your eyes before unlocking your phone.

at first it seems like a normal picture abby posted, standing in front of a mirror in her living room , flexing her arm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat after an apparent workout session. ever the show off.

but when you zoomed into a blip of color in the background, your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see it.

its you and ellie, you sitting in her lap while she showed you some stupid meme on her phone she said reminded her of you.

the post was only thirty minutes old but already had a few thousand comments, the previes of 'OMG?????' and "no fucking way" giving you a hint to what people were thinking.

you turned off your phone, tossed it back on the nightstand and went back to sleep.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

case six : the joint stream

y/nsstan69 : not an unscheduled stream ??? is it judgement day ???

onlycuntz : "ft surprise guest" girl we aren't stupid

you had to hide the smile from appearing on your face as you read through the comments of your chat. you knew some of them were probably smart enough to know what was going on. the three of you hadn't really been discrete in the days following abby's slip up post, and viewers jumped at the chance to point you out in the background of some of her workout videos. and to point out how you were staring at her.

assholes.

so, here you sat in the comfort of your cute gaming chair ready to tell chat the big news with your special guest.

"so, i bet some of you are wondering why im streaming off schedule, but i had something big in my personal life that i wanted to tell you guys! in a few minutes my gest should be here..."

your voice trailed off as you kept your eye on chat, seeing a bunch of comments that you werent expecting from this big announcement.

motionpickers : lmaooooo are they serious

lululemonsz : she's gonna be so pissed

you begin to turn around in your chair when two pairs of lips press a kiss to each of your cheeks.

"you guys are so unserious."

"and you are so bad at hiding things." ellie pulls up and extra chair and rolls it up to yours so her knees touch yours. she tugs your hand into hers to sit on her lap, ignoring when you pinch her with your nails.

"ignore her. we could tell what you were doing and figured we should all do it together," abby is on your other side, resting her hip on the arm of your chair. "so, go ahead. it's pretty obvious already."

"wow, thanks for the support you guys."

"anytime, hun."

uhuhstasia : i literally cant tell whos luckier

niatargaryen : IS ANYBODY ELSE FREAKNG OUT

ilovestardewmc1237 : is it appropiate to say i called this

[leighsartworks216]

Love Sick

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A SIMPLE KISS HOW DID IT END UP LIKE THIS IT WAS ONLY A KISS

Warnings: references to Astarion's 200 years under Cazador

Word Count: 478

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

He cradles your cheek in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone; it's all he needs to do to get your heart soaring. He smirks as the sound of the drum in your chest no doubt reaches him loud and clear. He leans forward, brushing his nose against yours. You can feel his breath as he speaks.

"There's no need to be nervous, darling," he coos sweetly. He chuckles as he adds, "I don't bite."

It's a Herculean task trying to think straight when he's so close. His cold hand is like fire against your skin, sending shock waves throughout your body. You have a hard time just trying to tear your eyes from his mouth, mere inches from yours, but every time you meet his eyes you can see the amusement within. He enjoys your struggle.

"I've never- I mean, I have, I just-" You swallow thickly, trying to get your head screwed on straight again. Gods, you were making such a fool of yourself. "I don't know how to do this."

He hums quietly, almost appraisingly, like he's trying to work out if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "I can show you," he purrs lowly. He trails his nose across your cheek as he leans to your ear, lips brushing the lobe with each word. "Let me teach you how."

You let out a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut at just how close he is now. Your body yearns for him, yearns to be closer, yearns to know what it's like to be kissed by this beautiful elf. It was a wonder he approached you at all - you're nothing special. You'd believed all your life that you were invisible to most people, too unimportant for anybody to even see you. And yet he had. He spotted you within the crowd and walked over, offered to buy you a drink and started chatting you up. It made you feel like the most important person in the world.

"Would you like that?" he whispers. Your breath hitches when his lips press just under your jaw. Your face must be beet red by now; your only saving grace is the privacy this corner table provided.

"Yes," you sigh. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. They ghost along the edge of your jaw until they hover just over your lips. You can't breathe. All you can think about is what he would taste like.

He teases you further, kissing lightly at the corner of your mouth. You make a truly undignified sound, a desperate whimper. He quite enjoys it. "Follow me."

You watch, totally enamored, as he stands, taking your hand in his and helping you up. You feel like a love-sick teenager as you're pulled along behind him, out of the tavern and into the night, toward a manor in the distance...

---

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[kfaem]

Love and Deepspace; when their S/O is a kpop idol

notes: brrr new fandom lets go. also yes i went MIA but hey im not like dead

the boys when MC is an idol :) this is self indulgent. im a zayne girlie but i got carried away with raf lol. im tired so this is unedited, poorly written, no structure, and kinda just rambling

Rafayel:

here me out

he was a fan for the longest time, creating multiple pieces based off of you and your likeness

you and your members go to one of his exhibitions and when you make eye contact he's immediately in love more than he was before

kinda in a weird way

but when you approach him first he's in shock and doesnt know what to do

after the initial talking period and when the relationship starts he acts like his normal self

attends every concert and fan meeting

spends hundreds of dollars on your albums, collecting your photocards and solo posters

brags about being your boyfriend on sns and your manager tries to get him to stop

thomas is so embarrassed everytime your manager reaches out and begs him to calm down cause its a bad image

doesnt care about the reporters, is willing to fight with elites over you and your reputation

he's a simp but is also kinda mean sometimes lol

is jealous when you go live and refuse to respond to him to at least an hour and makes his presence known in your chat

i find the image of the matching outfits, couples goals posts on sns, and articles where he names you his muse to just be so <3333

Xavier

You guys bumped into each other at a convenience store, both reaching for the same bag of chips

both flustered with red cheeks, you let him have it and apologized

awkward

so, so very awkward

both of you are stuck in a awkward, silent encounter and neither of you want to say anything

one of your members comes over to see whats taking you so long and realizes that you're in a standoff with a cute blond and decides to play cupid

it worked

you two end up becoming good friends, and then eventually some sort of situationship

he doesnt want to damage your career and acknowledges that you both dont have time to spend with each other

but still acts as a loving boyfriend, buying your albums, concert tickets, merch, birthday specials etc.

then when you guys go on a snack run, a reporter recognizes you and within the week you're caught up in dating rumours

deciding that you guys couldnt avoid the truth, the situationship turned into a real relationship

doesnt really make a big deal out of your relationship or your popularity. would rather spend your guys' spare time reading together, watching movies, eating good food and relaxing

the media eventually forgets but the fans dont

they love every piece of media that ever gets showed, glimpses of xavier in mirrors, reflections on water, glasses, windows. mentions of a lover in interviews when asked what inspired you

just a loving boyfriend who tries to give you a sense of normalcy outside of the flashing lights

Zayne

Childhood friends

he hates your career and how much soul it has taken from you, but also acknowledges that you love what you do and are willing to risk your health and privacy

zayne is the king of situationship lmao

dates all the time, dinners at small restaurants hiding in booths in the far corners since you both like to be alone, together

your members genuinely dont understand how hes "not your boyfriend"

has lingered on music video shoots, using his title as your personal doctor to not raise any eyebrows

doesnt go out of his way to buy your albums but... if hes at a corner store and sees it, he'll buy it. or two. or three.

keeps one of your photocards and a normal picture of you in his wallet, grayson found it on the floor in his office once after it fell out of his wallet and he could never live it down

the entire hospital staff knows but wouldnt say anything for fear of their life

always sending messages no matter what side of the world youre on. Please remember to eat, drink water, and rest as much as you can. Too much strain on your body can cause long-term side effects.

buys tickets to your concerts, trying to hold back his smile as you glow on the stage while performing in front of your many fans

yeah he gets jealous

wont say it

and you can barely tell

but the chill that fills the room when another idol hugs you and is being overly touchy is so very much obvious and has people rushing to do something else

a reporter approaches him and tries to ask about your dating life. he shuts them up with a glare. the reporter doesnt even dare publishing that article.

your fans have a basic idea of what zayne is to you, but they respect you enough to not make a scene of it.

then one of your members gets drunk on a live and asks about your boyfriend and it comes unravelled

you post a picture with him, captioned with a heart, and its never brought up again

has brought your fans food and drinks whenever they set up cafe events for support

he appreciates everything that your fans do for you and has asked them to take care of you when hes not around

your relationship is never actually made official but yall live together when you arent required to be at the dorms and own like two cats so idk

still the caregiver that we love

[yuusishi]

. . . KISS DAY SPECIAL !

pairings : Ace Trappola , Malleus Draconia , Jing Yuan x gn!reader

genre : fluff , established relationships

cws/tws : none

a/n : writing this the day before my first exams!! it's my first sorta mixed fandom post and it feels lowkey weird. Sorry for my very obvious bias towards Malleus 🤞🤞🤞

Ace Trappola !!

A small kiss on the cheek, still too early for a kiss on the lips.

You both crashed down on the fresh green grass outside Ramshackle, the sun felt nice and warm that day and the grass was soft, nature was too tempting. Especially after a rough day.

Ace let out a big, exaggerated sigh, letting himself relax on the ground, "Why's Professor Crewel so strict, man. Does he want anyone to like him?" he complained "Y'know, the test wouldn't have been so difficult if you actually studied last night"

"And since when did you become a good student like Deucey".

Silence and jokingly threatening glares were shared before quickly laughing, you shifted a little closer to the boy before pressing your lips on his cheeks, earning you a look of shock from him. Even though you both have kissed each other's cheeks numerous times before, neither of you could get used to it. Each one was still full of innocence and pure love, uncharacteristic of Ace's usual mischievous personality.

Malleus Draconia !!

First kiss.

A first kiss should be something that feels special, magical even, Malleus knew that and was determined to make sure to make yours and his feel that way. But he was wise not to rush, better to make sure the time and place was right.

It was the conclusion to the Endless Halloween that he and Lilia subjected the other students to, everyone was leaving the realm to go back to their dorms for their well-deserved rest, but Malleus stayed behind for a bit, entranced by the building.

You were there with him as per his request, the two of you exploring the now-empty mansion hand in hand just like what you do whenever you both were able to go out of the campus for small dates.

It was quiet, you noticed immediately that Malleus stopped in his tracks. "Malleus? Are you okay?" you ask, quickly making your way back to him.

Malleus looked at you standing in front of him fondly, his eyes were always so soft around you. His favorite moon bathed you in its light, shadows hugging corners of your face.

"You're beautiful" he said, bringing his hand up to your face, slightly sharpened nails dragged on your cheek and you instinctively leaned into his warmth. It all felt so natural, his lips made its way onto yours, and you reciprocated as if you've done this plenty of times before, Malleus's hand entangled in your hair and your hands on his shoulders, needing to slightly stand on your toes to reach him.

His kiss was soft with a hint of desire to continue keeping you close to him, not wanting to let go. You both parted to breathe, cheeks flushed and staring at each other with wide eyes but unable to look away.

Jing Yuan !!

Unexpected and fun kisses

Jing Yuan is a busy man, taking care of many responsibilities as the General of Divine Foresight, so things like visiting him during break hours and eating with him were the regular for both of you. But today was far too busy for the Artisanship commission.

You knocked at the door to his office and he responded with a quick "Enter". Pushing open the large door, you greeted Jing Yuan who immediately set aside his work once he saw you,

"I made you lunch, but I can't stay for long. Too much things going on in the Artisanship commission" you said sadly, Jing Yuan responds with a dramatic sigh and a sad look on his face "So even my dearly beloved would pick work over me" he teased

"Mhm, so I have to get going now" you smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. As you were about to make your getaway, Jing Yuan quickly loops his arms around your waist and pulls you down onto his lap, you let out a small yelp when he started attacking your face with kisses while still hugging you tightly from behind, but it quickly turned into laughter as he continued,

"Jing Yuan! I seriously have to go! I have too much paperwork to take care of" you said between laughs and Jing Yuan looked at you while resting his face on your neck, "Alright, alright, I'll let you go now. Don't work too hard, take care of yourself too" he said letting go of your waist "You too" you respond while waving him goodbye.

[captainsophiestark]

End of the Line

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: Anakin and his SO have a chaotic date night - and really, when dating Anakin, what other kind could there be?

Word Count: 1,051

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

A beam of light whizzed over my head from where I hunkered behind cover, almost nailing me right in the forehead. I grit my teeth and readied my weapon. That marked my opponent's tenth shot, meaning he'd need to let his gun recharge before he could fire again. Time to make my move.

"Alright, that's it! Your bloodline ends here!" I shouted at the top of my lungs before popping up from my cover behind the couch. I saw a flash of shaggy brown hair as my boyfriend, Anakin Skywalker, scrambled for cover of his own across the living room.

I raised my light gun—a blaster that literally just fired light, usually used by children for tag games but tonight employed by Anakin and I—and raced across the room after him.

I fired the entire time I ran, keeping Anakin from popping up his head. It left me with just one shot by the time I got to him, but one shot was all I needed.

I rounded the corner of my favorite cushy chair and fired at my boyfriend, right on target to hit him square in the chest. That is, until my light beam stopped in mid-air.

My eyes darted up to Anakin's to find him grinning, one hand extended the way he did sometimes to use the Force and the other still holding his newly-recharged blaster. I narrowed my eyes, but before I could say anything, he fired a shot of his own that hit me in the chest.

"You cheater!" I yelled, ignoring the explosion of light still glowing against my shirt. Anakin rolled to the side and dropped his hand, letting what would've been the perfect shot streak past him and into the far wall of our apartment. I scowled.

"You never said no Force," Anakin replied, getting to his feet with an entirely too satisfied smirk. He offered a hand to me, but I didn't take it.

"Mmm, I'm pretty sure I specifically said 'No Jedi bullshit' right before we started this thing."

Anakin grinned at me as I got to my feet and faced him.

"Exactly. No Jedi bullshit. Lots of people have a connection to and use the Force."

I closed my eyes and took a long, deep, dramatic breath. When I opened them again, Anaking was still watching me with a self-satisfied smirk.

"You've been spending too much time with politicans, trying to sell me on a loophole like that."

"As opposed to bounty hunters?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "You and I both know that's not what I do."

"I know. It's just fun to watch your face scrunch up."

I reached out and hit Anakin in the chest, but my heart wasn't in it. We'd first met because I'd been at the top of my class with the GAR, before they'd switched primarily to clones, and the Jedi had needed an extra, well-trained hand on short notice. Now, I basically worked as a contractor for the Republic. I'd continued to help the Jedi regularly, especially, and I'd gotten close with many of them. But Anakin more than anyone else.

"So. Rematch?" Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow and holding his light blaster up. I smiled.

"As much fun as it would be to beat you in a No-Force rematch-" Anakin scoffed and raised an eyebrow, but I just ignored him. "-we already spend too much of our time around blasters. How about we order some of our favorite foods and find a good holo to watch?"

Anakin smiled, soft and genuine, and let the hand with his blaster fall back to his side.

"Yeah. I guess we can-"

He got cut short when I brought my hand up as fast as lightning, my recharged blaster now ready to go. I levelled it at his chest, pausing just long enough to give him a grin and register the absolute shock on his face before pulling the trigger.

A bright light exploded across Anakin's chest, making the front half of his shirt about five shades lighter. I cackled.

"Ha, now we're even! Call that a tie and let's get some pizza."

Anakin shook his head at me, but he was grinning all the same.

"You're ruthless. And that was incredibly sneaky of you."

I just gave him a wink.

"You know you love it, Skywalker. It's why you love me."

He snorted, but came close enough to wrap his arms around me and pull me into this chest, too.

"I do love you. Sneaky cheater in competition and all."

"Aww, babe."

Anakin and I shared a laugh and a smile before leaning into a soft, sweet kiss. Since he was a Jedi, we couldn't just do stuff like this whenever and wherever we wanted. Which meant I knew not to take a single moment alone with him for granted.

"So, now that my title's been defended, do you want to follow through on that pizza and some holos?" I asked.

"We could do that. Or..."

"Or?"

Anakin grinned, a familiar troublemaker spark in his eye that I loved. I grinned right back.

"Instead of holos or a rematch, we could team up to go wreak some havoic on Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Play a few rounds absolutely destroying them, and then disappear somewhere nice together where they can't find us."

"I like the way you think, Skywalker. Do the Jedi or the Force or whatever say anything about soulmates?"

"I don't think so... Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure you're mine. Get your blaster ready and let's go have some fun."

I started to head for the door, but Ani's strong arm around my waist pulled me quickly back into a searing kiss. I let my free hand come up to tangle in his hair and kissed him back, hard, until we were both finally forced to come up for air.

"Okay," Anakin said, slightly breathless and with a smile on his face. "Now we can go wreak some havoic."

I laughed as I took Anakin's hand, a little giddy as I pulled him towards the oor. We really made the perfect pair, to the occasional detriment of our friends, whether or not they actually knew we were a pair. Hopefully, we could get through this war together, and find our way to a happy ending on the other side.

And until then, we'd just find as many happy moments together like this as we could.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 6

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Elvis takes you for a drive and ask you questions you aren't prepared to answer. Then you overhear a conversation that could ruin everything.

TW: Implication of sexual activity

Word Count: 1212

A/N: Some things start to unravel at the end of this chapter, the reader has to think fast to figure out what to do next.

"Let's go for a little drive, honey," Elvis says suddenly, looking at you intently from across the table before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Your stomach sinks. He gives you that same eerie look, like he's trying to pick your brain.

You, Sonny, Jerry and Elvis have all just gotten done eating breakfast and are preparing to get up and go your separate ways. Everyone stops. Elvis briefly glances at his friends.

"What are you guys lookin' at? I'll meet with y'all later. Come on, baby."

He stands up from the table and starts towards the door, a clear signal that you should follow him. Sonny and Jerry hang back while you move to catch up with him. The two of you reach the front door, getting into your shoes in silence.

You risk a glimpse at him. He doesn't look angry, which you suppose is a good sign. He looks deep in thought as his brows are knit together.

---

Elvis turns down a backroad, his thumb drumming on the steering wheel. The radio is off and it is completely silent. The two of you have been driving now, you're guessing, for about ten minutes. In complete silence. Your nerves are shot and you just wish he would say something. As if reading your mind, he finally speaks up.

"Why were you in my room yesterday?"

Your face drains as you look out the window.

Shit. What do you say? You had been so careful. Maybe he's just guessing.

"What do you mean?" You ask, not taking the risk of looking at him.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Play stupid."

You sigh as you look at your hands, your palms already starting to sweat. You look over at him and he looks at you. He still doesn't look angry, which calms you a bit.

"I, uh-" you start, thinking of something to say.

You kick yourself for not thinking of what to say in the event that he had heard you.

"Honey, I'm not mad at ya'. I Just...I know you're lyin' to me. Not just about this."

A shock runs through you.

"How?" you say too quickly.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye before looking back towards the road.

"You're not a good liar."

You pause before asking your next question.

"Does anyone else know?"

He pauses for so long a moment, you're not sure if he heard you.

"I don't think so."

At least that's some good news. Okay. So he knows you're lying to him. He doesn't know the extent, though.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone in your room. I was...trying to see if you had found me with anything. Like a wallet, so I could remember some more things about myself. I remember my name is (y/n) but that's all."

Does he believe you? He is silent for a long moment, before letting a sigh fall from his lips.

"Alright well, that's somethin' I guess."

You wonder if he's going to ask ask you about the open dresser drawer and when you look at him again, his face is a little flushed.

"And you can uh- forget anything you might've seen in my room," he says rather awkwardly, a question in the inflection of his voice.

"Yes, I didn't see anything, Elvis," you agree, your face burning as you turn your attention to the road.

He nods his head.

"Okay then."

He then finally turns on the radio.

---

You sigh as you crack open Sound of Thunder, sitting on the same chair you sat in the first day you woke up here. You read the first page, the main character preparing to go back in time. You jump ahead to the moment the main character and his group actually go on the journey.

"First a day and then a night and then a day and then a night, then it was day-night-day-night-day. A week, a month, a year, a decade! A.D. 2055. A.D. 2019. 1999! 1957! Gone! The machine roared."

You look up from the book. You aren't sure how well this is going to help. You didn't travel in time by a big machine, it was a couch. You groan in frustration, shutting the book as you place it on the small table in front of you. Standing up, you walk over to the room's window that overlooked the backyard.

You allow your shoulders to relax, realizing just how tense you've been since you got here. Looking out towards the stables, you are surprised when you see Elvis emerge from one, holding the reins of a black horse. Your eyes follow him as he walks out towards the trail where the riding takes place.

You don't realize just how entranced you probably look until you see him turn suddenly, looking up at your window. You gasp as your face burns, instinctively ducking your head so he can't see you, although you're sure he's too far away to see much of anything.

You peek your head back up as he turns from the window, continuing on until he reaches the trail. He holds his horse steady as he sticks one foot in the shoe holder, mounting himself onto the animal. You take a moment to admire his form, the way the pants he's wearing hugs his thighs. How his button-up short sleeved shirt hangs loosely on him. You admire him for as long as you can before he rides out of sight.

You release a breath as you turn from the window, preparing to open the book again to search for more answers. Until you hear Sonny's voice.

"Jerry, what are you talkin' about?"

"I don't know Sonny, I just thought I saw somethin' when we found her. That's all I'm sayin'."

You heart leaps as you stand suddenly frozen, your ears straining to hear the conversation.

"What do you mean, what kind of things?"

"Like a purse, I think there was some stuff in there. Elvis wouldn't let me see what was in it."

Did they know you were up here? Apparently not.

"What, so you're sayin' she's lying or somethin'?"

Jerry hesitates.

"Well, I'm not too sure of that, maybe she really doesn't remember anything. I don't know, I could be wrong. I just know I saw somethin'."

Oh no. No, no, no. You're purse?! If they found you with it, where the hell is it now? And what was in it that Elvis wouldn't let Jerry see?

"Well, maybe Elvis just wants the girl to remember things for herself, you know so she doesn't lie or somethin' to stay longer."

This is a lame excuse, Sonny knows that as well as you. Why is he defending you? Why do you hear a softness in his voice towards you that you hadn't heard before? You decide to think about the meaning of this later, right now you need to stop this conversation.

You quietly rush to the bathroom to distract the men from talking further. Turning on the shower, you hear them come to a hushed conclusion of their talk before you hear footsteps on the stairs.

This is the worst case scenario. So Elvis does have your purse. Why is he hiding it?

You need to talk to him.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@horrorgirl4life @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @sissylittlefeather @father-of-2cats @goldobsessionsworld @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

[tamrielic]

pairing – kaeya alberich × gn!reader

fandom | media – genshin impact

word count – 3,919・AO3・sequel

summary – y’all know that trope when a character gets injured in some way and it inevitably leads to someone, if not both of them, fully realizing and basically confessing their undying love to each other? this is that

The sudden shock of silence following the defeat of the camp of hilichurls that Jean had sent you and the Cavalry Captain to clear out almost made your ears ring. Gasping for air, your sword arm trembled as you lowered it and your eyes frantically flit around the area, finally settling on a white tuft of fur that could only be the part of Kaeya’s cape visible around the side of a rocky outcrop that he’d undoubtedly ducked behind for cover. Your feet were moving before you even realized it, and suddenly you were kneeling right beside him.

“Kaeya?” Your voice sounded more wrecked than you thought it would, but at the moment you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. He let out a soft groan, slightly glazed eyes slowly fluttering open only to immediately focus on your face.

“Not exactly the fun and excitement that I had planned for today.” He joked, the left corner of his mouth turning up as he reached a hand up to feel the damage to his head.

Gently slapping his hand away, you chided. “Don’t touch it, you’re bleeding.” After grabbing your bag and rifling around in it for a moment you produced a clean rag and your trusty waterskin, quickly wetting the rag slightly before beginning to delicately wipe away the blood that was close to dripping down into his uncovered eye. Flinching, he grumbled again but remained focused on you as you worked to make him presentable.

“It’s not deep at all so you’ll be fine, but it’s a head wound so it bleeds a lot. I’ll do what I can for it and then we’ll head back and get you looked at by someone with legitimate medical experience.” You rambled, shaken up from seeing him get hit in the head with the blunt end of a polearm. He made a non-committal grunt as you finished up, and you quickly reached for your healing salve and smeared a small amount over the gash on his temple.

Completing your job of cleaning him up, you folded up the bloodied rag and shoved it and the salve back into your bag without giving them a second thought. Reaching for his arm, you slowly coaxed him up to a standing position. He sighed, nodding his head at you once he was steady on his feet.

“Thank you, Traveler — I’m so lucky to have my own personal healer.” He joked.

“I’m glad your sense of humor is still in tact, at least.” You replied with a worried smile, glancing up at him. Blinking slowly in what appeared to be confusion, he reached his hand up and smoothed away the crease that had been between your brows that you hadn’t even realized was there and then his hand dropped and caught something wet on your cheek.

“Tears? What, were you truly worried about me that much?” He teased in what was undoubtedly an attempt to deflect from his visible discomfort, lips turning up into that ridiculous smirk that never failed to simultaneously make you very irritated and uncomfortably flustered — albeit it was a fake and strained version of it. Huffing in embarrassment at having been caught crying without even having been aware of it, you reached up and grabbed his hand in one of your own.

“I always worry about you, especially when you throw yourself in harm’s way to protect me from a blow that I would’ve easily countered.” You snapped, unknowingly grasping his hand a little tighter.

His expression froze and unfocused for a brief moment, and if you hadn’t been working alongside him for months you would have missed it entirely, because then it was gone — his gaze suddenly intently focused on your own.

“Oh? Far be it from me to ensure that Teyvat’s beloved and revered Traveler doesn’t perish due to an unsuspecting blow from a mighty hilichurl.”

Scowling at him, you rebuked. “I can take care of myself you know, and I’d much rather I get hurt than you — you’re the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius after all. I’m just some random person from another world who’s lost and is, unfortunately, a pushover and cares for people and helps them however I can���” you stopped, aware that you were starting to ramble again.

Sighing, he dislodged his hand from your own and crossed his arms, returning your scowl at your long-winded explanation.

“Believe me, I’m fully aware of those insufferable traits of yours. You have acquired some fancy titles yourself, you know, and should try just a bit harder to not get killed.”

Mirroring his pose, you remarked. “Pot, kettle.”

Shrugging his shoulders and exhaling heavily, he dropped his arms to his sides, glancing to the side and grumbling. “Touché.”

Blinking in surprise, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wow, that hit must have affected your head more than I thought if you’re giving up arguing with me already. You’re usually much more stubborn and opinionated than this.”

“What can I say, I—” He started to reply while turning to begin walking away, but suddenly stumbled a bit and threw his hand out and caught himself against a tree.

You were suddenly struck by the realization that your joking words may have been more truthful than you’d wanted them to be, and you ran over and wrapped your arm around his waist to help hold him up. “Kaeya!”

His eyes were closed tightly as he fought to regain his balance, slumped against the tree. “I’m fine, Mondstadt isn’t too far from here — I can make it.”

“Stop being so damned stubborn and let me help you, you ridiculous man.” You argued, gently pulling him to lean into you as soon as he felt steady enough to do so.

He didn’t reply, just kept his eyes focused on the ground in front of him as you both slowly but surely made your way back towards the city.

The next afternoon you leaned against the wall outside of Kaeya’s office, anxiously biting your lip and waiting for Jean and the doctor she had called to check on him to be finished. Suddenly the door opened and the aforementioned persons stepped out, closing the door behind them as the doctor turned to give both you and Jean a nod before heading out. Jean sighed and gave you a meaningful look that you weren’t sure how to interpret.

“He’s being difficult, of course, refusing to rest and claiming it isn’t serious even though he still has a headache and is obviously tired. Maybe you can talk some sense into him, he has a soft spot for you.” She said, smiling knowingly and turning to walk back to her office before you could reply.

Shaking your head, you wondered at what she’d said — you weren’t so sure about his supposed “soft spot” but it was worth a shot, at least. Sighing in frustration, you turned and knocked once before opening the door to his office, quickly stepping in and shutting it behind you.

Kaeya glanced up with a blank expression, doing a double-take once he realized it was you. “Oh? To what do I owe the pleasure of our Honorary Knight visiting me?” He joked, attention immediately going back down to the papers he was reading — though you couldn’t help but to notice that his expression seemed rather drained and his voice sounded a bit strained as well. You also noted that he wasn’t dressed as fancy or as much as usual, having decided to forgo his jacket, vest, and cape — leaving him in just his billowy low-cut white shirt and corset; his regular gloves, pants, and boots remaining the same.

“I was worried about you.” You spoke softly before summoning your courage and walking over to stand in front of his desk, trying but failing to keep your eyes focused on his face and not on his exposed collarbone or on the gorgeous skin of the sinful bit of his pectorals that were peeking out of his shirt.

He briefly glanced back up at your face, but you noticed he hadn’t yet made any actual eye contact with you. “I’m fine, no need to be concerned.”

“Kaeya. I know you’re a busy man, but you can’t just ignore the fact that you suffered from a legitimate head wound not even twenty-four hours ago.”

He snorted softly, then unexpectedly stood up and strode over to stare out the window behind his desk. “Aren’t you supposed to be heading out to Liyue Harbor today? Something about needing to assist a certain Mister Zhongli with something or other?”

You stared at the back of his head in disbelief. He wasn’t wrong, but Zhongli would understand — you never gave him a specific time or day you’d arrive anyways, just that it’d be at the end of the week.

Frowning and abruptly becoming filled with an intense surge of frustration, you stormed over to him and grasped both of his arms, sharply turning him to face you.

Gasping softly and staring at you in bewilderment, Kaeya opened his mouth to undoubtedly call you out on your rash behavior, but before he could get a sound out you allowed the strong emotions flooding your mind to guide yourself to let go of him and instead you threw your arms around him, yanking him into you and grasping at the back of his shirt like it was a lifeline.

Inhaling shakily, not used to being this impulsive, you noted that he smelled faintly of dandelions, parchment, and something else, something hard to describe — crisp like the smell of the cold air in mid-winter, almost sharp and bitter like the smell of freshly picked mint. Which made sense, actually, considering he had a cryo vision. You couldn’t help but take another deep breath, trying to memorize his scent.

He froze in your arms, breath stuttering and eyes wide and staring down at the top of your head. He held his hands up behind you, not sure whether to pull you off of him or to give in and wrap himself around your smaller and softer form.

Sighing, you leaned your head back enough so that you could finally make eye contact with him - still clinging to the back of his shirt, hands fisted in the material. You unintentionally wet your lips briefly before beginning to say something, but you ended up inhaling sharply as his attention immediately zeroed in on your mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing with his throat as he swallowed. His eye quickly darted back to your own, wide with apprehension.

You gazed at each other for what felt like ages but was likely only one minute. Eventually, you sighed once more and reluctantly released his shirt from one hand, reaching up to delicately cup the side of his face in your hand, your thumb softly caressing his cheekbone.

“I have grown to care for you far more than you’re aware, Kaeya. I knew it before yesterday happened, but seeing you genuinely hurt seems to have flipped a switch in me. I can’t help but worry about your well-being. I… I can’t lose you.” Your eyes grew wet with unshed tears as you continued to stare into his uncovered eye.

“I have to find my brother, yes, and it’s almost inevitable that I will have to leave this world behind eventually, but you… Kaeya, you are… magnificent.” You breathed the last word, becoming overwhelmed with the strength of your emotions.

He released a shuddering breath, closing what little distance was between you and resting his forehead against your own, his face turning softer and his eye heavy-lidded. “I normally take pride in my quick wit… at the moment I don’t know what to say but… thank you.” He whispered hoarsely, the tip of his nose nuzzling against yours and his breath warm against your lips as he followed up his statement with a faint smile and a chuckle that you could feel from where your chest was still pressed against his.

“No need to thank me, Captain. Archon’s know you need somebody to help keep you in line, and I’m honored for it to be me.” You murmured, eyes and mouth smiling as you allowed yourself to continue to be impetuous and rocked upwards to kiss his jawline softly as your hand slid up so you could tangle your fingers in the soft hair at the top of his neck.

He hummed in response, chuckling again and finally, finally giving in and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him so that his lips rested against your hairline. Threading his fingers in your hair, he breathed deeply while he let himself indulge in being close to someone for the first time in… well, much longer than he’d like to admit.

Both of you remained embracing each other and breathing each other in, neither one wanting to pull away out of fear that it would break this fragile moment.

Unfortunately, privacy is a rarity in the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, and the door to Kaeya’s office was suddenly thrown open as Klee burst in. “Captain Kaeya, can I—” She stopped, eyes widening as she witnessed you practically fling yourself away from Kaeya, hurriedly turning to face the bookshelves to hide your burning face. His arms remained outstretched towards you for a moment, his mind — still somewhat slow and damaged from his injury — not understanding why you were no longer close to him before he abruptly came to his senses and sighed and turned to Klee, crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow.

Her pointed ears twitched, eyes flickering between you both, her mouth hanging open and the bag of little bombs she had almost falling off of her shoulder in her silent confusion.

“Klee! Get back here, if Master Jean catches you trying to blast the fish in the lake again you’ll be in even bigger trouble than you already are!” You could hear Amber hissing loudly, running into the office and setting her hand on top of Klee’s head.

Klee nodded, still staring almost cluelessly at both you and Kaeya. Amber seemed to sense that they had interrupted something, eyes gaining a faintly smug look to them as she hurriedly ushered Klee and her bulging sack of fish bombs out the door.

“Sorry, sorry — kids these days, you know?” She remarked, grinning and not so subtly winking at you as she backed out of the room and the door shut once again with a click.

Flustered and embarrassed, you whimpered quietly as your hands tried to cover your face that felt like it was flaming from how flushed you were.

Kaeya quickly stepped over to the door and twisted the lock, immediately turning back to face you. He observed you as you continued to try and hide your face for a brief moment and then laughed, a genuine one that was light and happy and it had you instantly jerking your head towards him to see that he was smiling widely, his face slightly flushed just as yours was. Seeing and hearing him be so purely full of joy had your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“Perks of being one of Klee’s favorite people, I suppose.” He chuckled, sauntering over and setting a hand on the bookshelf above your head and leaning over you with a lopsided smirk, effectively commanding the entirety of your attention once again with the intensity of emotions swirling in his uncovered eye. “Now, where were we?”

You fiddled with your fingers and giggled, but unfortunately it came out sounding shaky and nervous due to your flustered emotions following the harsh interruption and his sudden flirty disposition — not that it was something you’d never witnessed before, it just hadn’t ever been directed so blatantly at you — and close proximity.

Noticing your anxious response, his smirk vanished and his eye seemed to shutter, and he immediately took a small step back from you. “I’m sorry, was that too much?” He asked, shifting as if to move even further away.

Your heart lurched at his reaction and you lunged forward, hands flying up to grasp his sleeves and pull him back to you — unfortunately, he hadn’t been expecting that at all and staggered into you from the force of your grasp, causing you to stumble as well and fall back into the bookshelf.

Luckily Kaeya’s reflexes were sharp enough for him to have grabbed the back of your head before it had the chance to bash into the shelving, and you both stared at each other for a moment, incredulous.

You snorted, reaching up and covering the bottom half of your face with your hands in mortification at the loud sound but unable to stop laughing. Kaeya’s face lit up once again and his genuine laughter joined yours for a moment before his smile grew soft and features grew serious again as his hand pulled your own down and away from your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me, please.” He chided, his face and intense eye contact imploring you to listen to him.

Slowly settling down from your mirth, you playfully grumbled and shook your head with a smirk. “You’re one to talk, Captain.”

“That’s true enough, but… I’d like that to change. With you, if you’ll allow me.” He murmured, nudging his nose against yours just like he had earlier.

You inhaled sharply, suddenly unable to focus on anything but his mouth, watching the corner of his lips twitch upwards as he noticed your distraction.

“May I?” He breathed, his tone bordering on pleading as he leaned even closer still.

Words completely abandoned you as you stared at him, his absurdly handsome face so near to your own that you could see that he had a very faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eyebrow quirked up as you remained silent, head tilting ever so slightly to the side in question.

Finally fully realizing what he wanted, you breathed shakily and reached up to grasp the back of his neck as you suddenly pulled his face down to meet his lips with yours, breaths mingling as he hummed into the kiss, lips twitching up into a soft smile.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst once again, but out of the depth of emotion you felt for this beautiful, wonderful man rather than out of shock and dismay. Your eyes again grew wet with tears as you processed just how much you desperately cared for him, how much you loved him, this man you’d only known for a few months but had felt inexplicably drawn to since the moment you first met.

His long fingers tangled in your hair and he protested with a soft growl when you pulled away only for it to turn into a very faint whimper when you leaned up and began kissing the various features of his face. You let your lips softly caress the corners of his mouth, the tip of his nose, the eyelid of his closed eye, the surface of his eyepatch, the small bandage covering the wound at his hairline. He let out a shaky breath and his hands dropped to your hips, fingers gently kneading the soft flesh there as he basked in your affections.

You finally returned to his lips, becoming bold enough to run the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip in your need to taste him. Groaning and grasping at your hips a bit harder, he took the initiative and his tongue slid along yours while you whimpered and trembled in response.

He tasted like the sparkling dandelion wine he favored so much, and it was completely intoxicating.

Eventually, you both broke away to gasp for air, your eyes fluttering open and witnessing Kaeya’s one visible eye already focused on you intently and having darkened with a feeling you knew but were too flustered to name — you couldn’t help but be totally bewitched by his appearance and the depth of emotion you could see in his face as you both caught your breath.

“I feel like this escalated rather quickly…” You breathed, voice husky from the intense kiss.

Kaeya’s eye darkened even more at the sound of your voice, eyes glancing down to your lips again before his brain processed what you’d said.

“Ah, yes. We should probably… slow down.” He admitted, his voice also hoarse and low, a bashful crooked smirk making one of his dimples stand out. You reached up and poked at it with a huge lovesick grin, causing him to chuckle and grab your hand to place a quick kiss on the inside of your wrist before intertwining your fingers with his.

“We should take things slow, but can we… stay close like this? For just a little while longer?” You asked, trying not to sound like you were begging… even though you kind of were.

Kaeya pretended to be deep in thought in response to your question before he turned and pulled you along until he was in front of the cushioned window seat between bookshelves. Sitting down, he waggled his eyebrows at you as he patted his lap in suggestion, faintly wincing when the movement of his facial muscles made his head wound twinge in mild discomfort.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise, a short awkward laugh escaping you. You shifted on your feet self-consciously, biting your lip. “I’m not exactly the lightest—” Kaeya rolled his eyes and put his hands on your waist, pulling you down onto his lap as you let out a small shriek and quickly situated your knees on either side of his hips so as not to crush him.

“None of that now, my dearest darling requested more cuddles and what kind of man would I be if I refused them?” He scolded, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your bodies together as he dropped a quick kiss on your forehead.

Blushing, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and grumbled at him as his hands caressed your back and he leaned back into the pillows that were piled on the window seat.

“So I’m your ‘dearest darling’ now?” You teased once you finally managed to calm down your fluttering heart. Kaeya smiled against your forehead and hummed, “Is that acceptable?”

You kissed his neck and reached to wrap your arms around it in response, your bodies pressed as close as possible. “If I’m being honest… I’ve been yours since the second I laid eyes on you, Kaeya Alberich.”

He seemed to cling to you then, hands fisting themselves in your shirt and his heart pounding — you could feel it from how close you were, and yours was beating in time with his.

“As I’ve been yours.” He whispered, fists unclenching and his hands smoothing your shirt before one tangled itself in your hair to hold your face to him and the other went back to grasping your hip.

You smiled and closed your eyes that were tearing up again, and once you both snuggled into each other and got more comfortable you were both content to lay there and hold each other.

The rest of the world and all of your problems and promises could wait, right now you both needed this — relaxing in the arms of the one you love and allowing yourself to feel and accept all of the strong emotions that come with that.

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (1/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

A gift for @the-lonelybarricade, for @acotargiftexchange! @lbs-secret-santa is me!

LB, creating this for you has been such a blast, and I am definitely the luckiest secret santa in the world to have such a gem of a giftee. It's rare for someone to have both a talent AND a heart as big as yours—you're truly the High Lady of Feysand, not just because your fics are incredible, but because of the way you make new writers (including me earlier this year) feel immediately welcome and how you handle fandom nonsense with such grace and tact. I'm so glad to call you a friend <3

And sorry for an author's note that reads like an annoying award show speech, but there are SO MANY people I want to thank. The event organizers did such a thoughtful job creating an event that brought so many people together across the fandom; not just secret santa/giftee pairs, but people reaching out to new betas, roping new friends into secrecy shenanigans, and getting hyped about other gifts! @iambutmortal, @thesistersarcheron, @itsthedoodle, @wilde-knight, and @ablogofsapphicpanic have been the best betas/saucy Rhys pun brainstormers/secret keepers/DM screaming session partners, and the daily headlines would not have happened without their beautiful brains. I had SO MUCH FUN watching the excitement and creative energy grow and grow in the lead up to this reveal. And also @reverie-tales, thanks for being my unwitting cover to throw LB off my trail!

Anyway, you can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore. Happy Holidays!

One Heir to Share? Rhysand's Rita's Threesome

Baring it All at Starfall! Rhysand Stuns in Daring Deep-V Shirt

Rhysand's Baby Blues: Heir's Latest Fling Spotted Shopping for Baby Clothes

Future High Lord’s High: Witchberries, Fae Wine, and Wild Starfall Benders in the House of Wind?

Lady of the Night or FUTURE Lady of Night? Rhysand's Girlfriend Shocks Royal Family at Nynsar

Un-Rhys-onable: Night's Heir Refuses to Kneel to High Lord

Heir Head! Rhysand Forgets Alphabet During Library Community Service

Rhysand had a reputation.

A big reputation.

Perhaps that was why after selling him the newspaper every day for the better part of a year, Feyre Archeron had long since decided that he was far too full of himself to be ashamed of anything.

As he did every Saturday morning, Rhys appeared on her corner like clockwork, wearing last night's clothes and his trademark smirk. If Feyre wanted to know what lucky male or female had gone home on his arm, she'd only have to check tomorrow's society pages, which were always breathlessly detailing the exploits of the Night Court's handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir.

Not that Feyre cared. There were more important things to worry about than Rhysand's love life, like where her next meal was coming from. She only kept up with it because his scandals sold papers like nothing else.

And she definitely didn't feel a stab of envy every time she read about his latest fling. That would be pointless—a lesser fae shadow-wraith like Feyre would never be Lady of the Night Court. The stir Rhys's Illyrian mother had caused made that obvious enough, even if she was the High Lord's mate.

"Good morning, Feyre darling," Rhysand drawled, the way he always greeted her.

"It's noon, Rhys," Feyre said. The nickname might have been overly familiar, but Feyre had noticed his eyes glittered like stars whenever she used it with him. And besides, after being up since dawn, she wasn't inclined to fall over herself currying favor with someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you look delicious this afternoon."

Feyre rolled her eyes, positive she looked the farthest thing from delicious in her threadbare leggings and sweater. If it were anyone but Rhys, she would have been sure they were being cruel. But he had enough of her goodwill that he could pay her teasing compliments and not end up with his teeth bashed in for his trouble.

"Did you give them anything interesting to write about last night?" she said, leaning back against a streetlight and crossing her arms over her chest.

Rhys picked at an invisible piece of lint on his tunic, which almost had Feyre rolling her eyes a second time. Despite being in last night's clothes, he didn't look the least bit disheveled—probably some spell he'd cast to ensure he looked irritatingly perfect as always.

"Mor needed a wingman again," he said.

Feyre relaxed, relieved at his answer. Rhys's equally beautiful cousin was the subject of plenty of headlines of her own, and the two were frequently seen together. The people of Velaris were fascinated by the pretty blonde former Hewn City princess–when the Herald ran a story about her, Feyre just had to shout "Morrigan" to turn heads and make sales. If the lead story was about her, Feyre could probably afford to eat tomorrow.

It had been a while, though, since Rhys had been spotted with someone new on his arm. Or with anyone other than Morrigan, his sister, or the two Illyrians he called his brothers actually. Feyre had rolled her eyes at the rumors of a secret relationship or a hidden love child—if you asked her, the most likely explanation was that there were only so many attractive people in Velaris with a weakness for violet eyes. Rhys was bound to run out of people to fuck eventually.

"Is that the truth?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or did you actually find someone to settle down with?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Rhys didn't smile. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in the way his gaze slid over her. Feyre found herself flushing, even as she stared right back. "Would you care if I did?" he said.

It felt like a challenge; Feyre lifted her chin. "Of course I'd care if you stopped causing scandals. I'm a newsie, and gossip sells papers."

"Of course," Rhys said, something in his expression seeming to shutter. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to her. The value was far more than a single paper was worth, but he'd always insisted she keep the change.

Feyre pulled a paper from the bag slung over her shoulder and handed it to him, longways so there was no chance their fingers would touch. She'd let that happen once, and his fingertips brushing hers had sent a crackle of electricity along her skin that she'd been thinking about ever since. Her mind replayed it almost daily—and frankly, Feyre found that embarrassing.

She pocketed the coin. "Pleasure doing business with you."

When Rhys spoke again, he dropped his voice to a low, sensual purr that sent shivers skittering down Feyre's spine, heat washing over her despite the autumn chill that cut through her tattered clothes. " Everything is a pleasure when it comes to you, Feyre."

He flashed her one last feline smile, and Feyre tipped her cap as he winnowed away, trying not to blush. With her other hand, she fingered the coin in her pocket. It would go under the floorboard with the rest of the ones she'd stashed away. Only a few more until she could afford the one-way ticket to the Continent that she'd been dreaming of.

Velaris was wonderful— if you could afford a big, strong door to lock out the hustle and bustle. Feyre certainly couldn't, and she was dying to get away.

A flash of auburn hair and a shout of "High Lady!" across the street pulled Feyre from her thoughts. Lucien was striding towards her, a half-empty satchel of newspapers slung over one shoulder and carrying another paper bag in his hand. She raised a hand in greeting—she'd stopped cringing at the nickname a long time ago.

"Is the new spot over by the docks working out for you?" she said when he got closer, even though she knew the answer. Lucien could sell papers anywhere; he didn't even need the eyepatch and the sob story about being an Autumn Court orphan who'd found his way to Night—just his brilliant smile was enough.

Lucien shrugged, the gesture far too elegant for someone who'd spent his morning selling newspapers to sailors and fishmongers. "I can make anything work."

"Then why did you come looking for me?" Feyre said. With unsold papers still in his bag, there had to be a reason. The newsies bought the papers from the distributor each morning, starting each day operating at a loss until they'd sold enough papers to recoup the cost. Lucien still had work to do if he wanted to turn a profit.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Isn't gazing upon your beautiful face reason enough?"

"You sound like Rhysand."

"And you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Trouble in paradise?"

Feyre resisted the urge to roll up one of the papers in her own bag and smack him with it. Lucien had overheard her speaking to Rhysand once and apparently decided the prince was in love with her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Rhysand isn't—"

" By the Cauldron, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy if you'd let him."

"He's just a flirt," Feyre said, the edge to her voice making it clear she didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What did you need me for?"

"Someone needs to finish my pickles," Lucien said, pulling a sandwich out of the paper bag. He handed Feyre half, along with the entire side of pickles it had come with, then sat down on the curb to eat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre nibbled on the pickle, the first thing she'd eaten all day, and thanked the Cauldron for a best friend who hated them and shared them with her. Putting her papers aside, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, Lucien," she said, unwrapping her half of the sandwich. Lunch would be on her next—that had been their unspoken agreement for years, even when meals were sporadic and infrequent.

They lapsed into silence, more intent on eating than talking. It was comfortable, a much needed rest after a morning spent shouting headlines at passersby. Feyre's feet already ached from standing all morning.

After a few minutes, Lucien balled up the now-empty wax paper. "Now that you're fed, I think it's safe to mention that you're needed over by the Rainbow."

"Again?" Feyre said with a sigh.

"Bron and Hart are fighting over the same spot. The High Lady should step in."

Feyre wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but at some point, she'd found herself the unofficial leader of the newsies of Velaris. She'd always kept an eye out for newcomers and lended them a hand—advice on selling papers and navigating the city was all she had, but Feyre shared freely. When there was a problem, she was usually the one to resolve it.

At some point, "High Lady" had gone from an ironic nickname for a poor girl on the streets to a mark of respect for a young woman who took care of her own.

"I'll talk to them," Feyre said, finishing her food and standing up.

Lucien started to thank her, but Feyre had already called on her magic, her body becoming nothing but shadow. Incorporeal like this, she could slip through walls and travel unseen—and crucially, it was faster than walking. As a lesser fae, it was the only magic she had at her disposal.

Even in the brightest sun, Velaris was full of shadows. And for better or worse, Feyre had made them her home.

***

Rhysand had planned to give himself time to read the news before he was due for a meeting at the House of Wind. Yesterday, he'd told himself he'd be up early enough to look over the agenda ahead of time. He'd wanted to be prepared, and his father would have his head if Rhys was late for official court business again.

But somehow, the High Lord's ire seemed incredibly far away last night, when the Cauldron only knew how many drinks he'd had and Mor was dragging him back to the dance floor at Rita's again, and dawn had nearly broken when he'd finally stumbled home.

Late or not, though, he still had to see Feyre.

The most important part of his day had become buying the paper from her. It wasn't about the news and never had been—every day, Rhys hoped that would be the day she finally took an interest in him that went beyond trading a few teasing remarks and rolling her eyes. He'd never flirted so much, so painfully obviously before, just to have it all go ignored like water off a duck's back.

And that had already been going on for a few months before the mating bond snapped.

Their fingers had brushed as she'd handed him the paper. Perhaps that brief touch skin-to-skin had been all it had taken for the urge to claim and taste and scent his mate to hit him with all the force of a brick to the head. Before he'd done something stupid, Rhys had winnowed away without an explanation or a goodbye.

After that, Rhys had resolved not to tell her, at least not until she showed some sort of interest back. But in the months since, he hadn't gotten her to even blush. And even if by some miracle, she did want him that way and accepted the bond, there was no guarantee she wouldn't resent him after a few decades as future Lady of Night. Her indifference was painful enough—Rhys wasn't sure he could withstand her hating him.

For the short flight to the House of Wind, Rhys let the chill in the air clear his head of thoughts of Feyre. He was supposed to focus today. Some of the city's most powerful merchants had asked for a meeting with his father, and as the High Lord's heir, Rhys was expected to be in attendance too.

The meeting room was already full when Rhys walked in, brushing his windswept hair back into place. From the head of the table, his father glared daggers at him.

Rhys ignored it, dropping into the empty seat that had been left for him. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting."

He kept the smirk plastered on his face, even as his father pushed past his shields to speak mind-to-mind. We'll discuss this later. For now, get through this meeting without embarrassing me further. That's an order.

Rhys made a mental note to let Mor know he'd likely have to cancel their plans to go to the theater that night.

One of the merchants—Rhys had met him before but had forgotten his name—gave him a cold smile and said, "We were just discussing economic policy."

"Carry on, then," Rhys said.

As the meeting droned on, Rhys forced himself to focus, even if the subject matter was painfully dry. One day, he'd be High Lord, and if he wanted to be the sort of ruler the Night Court deserved, one who made things better, he needed to be knowledgeable and willing to listen.

But even then, he wasn't immune to letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd found himself thinking about how the sunlight had brought out the gold in Feyre's hair, when the sound of his name brought him crashing back down to reality.

"…but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rhysand?" one of the merchants was saying, the sneer in his voice obvious.

Rhys felt his father's eyes boring into him, and it was clear this was some sort of test. He was supposed to be handling something, and Rhys didn't want to think about what sort of punishment might be in store for him if he made it obvious he'd stopped paying attention.

"Would I?" Rhys said, arching a brow in a way that he hoped looked imperious.

"With how many headlines you've been the subject of? I think by now you'd know a thing or two about what sells papers. If it weren't for you, we'd have gone under after the War."

Rhys's hands curled into fists under the table as he recalled exactly who this merchant was—Pulitzer, a newspaper magnate, the one who'd been complaining that circulation was down since the Treaty had been signed. Peace, apparently, was boring.

Peace that Rhys had bled for, had nearly died for when he'd been captured by Amarantha's army. Not that any of that mattered when profits were down.

"Then a bit more gratitude is in order," Rhys said, his voice low and deadly and all command, sounding every inch the future High Lord he was. It was so brief that Rhys nearly missed it, but his father's lips quirked up in approval. "If you have a request, I suggest you word it carefully."

It quickly became clear that Pulitzer and the rest of the owners of Velaris's major newspapers had come to grovel. Even if Rhys couldn't bring himself to care, it was true that the Night Court's newspaper industry was bringing in less money since the end of the war. They'd come to petition his father for assistance.

And to Rhys's relief, the High Lord's answer had been a quick and resounding no.

Of course, Rhys knew his father's answer had been more about safeguarding the Night Court's wealth more than anything else. That much was obvious when so many of their citizens were struggling, even in Velaris. It was something that Rhys vowed to change one day.

But Rhys's relief didn't last much longer. His father had told the newspaper moguls to figure it out themselves, and they'd quickly agreed that to fix their bottom line, they'd raise the price for the newsies who bought the papers to distribute each morning.

Newsies who were barely getting by as it was. Newsies who were already going hungry and sleeping outdoors even as the weather got colder. Newsies who'd been orphaned or disabled after the war and couldn't find decent work.

Newsies like his mate, and Rhysand certainly wouldn't stand for that.

[darkhymns-fic]

SOS

When a distorted radio signal calls Husk to Alastor's home, he doesn't expect to be facing the Queen of Hell, offering him the chance of a lifetime.

But monsters always have the brightest smiles.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk/Lilith Morningstar Rating: M Word Count: 8588 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Originally was just a throwaway fic I wrote on my sideblog, but then it morphed afterwards to be this unholy OT3. It was fun! I want Lilith to be devious because that is also fun. Inspired by several fanarts that are shared on the mirror, but special shout out to this art by @datchidatchi.

--

Husk is tired once he reaches the rickety house’s front steps, and maybe a little grumpy. His ears were still ringing from static.

He ignores the deer antlers perched over the door, like a morbid holiday wreath. But it’s both typical and so very predictable, and after weeks of this routine, Husk is barely put off by it anymore. Its winding antlers are almost like a beacon of sorts, pulsing and calling out to him as he traverses the city’s streets to Alastor’s home. 

Part of the deal is to keep his boss company. Nightcaps and the sort. Husk knows it’s risky every time but the prospect of a drink is always hard to turn down. That, and his radio back at the casino is on the fritz lately, static and noise playing over the speakers in both long and short bursts that gave Husk a headache. Which probably meant Alastor wanted him over there right now instead of two hours later. Jackass.

But maybe, in some ways, Husk also craves for a little company. He’s not ready to admit that just yet.

“Boss, you in?” he calls out, pushing open the creaky door into darkness. He has his own key and everything, even though Alastor would usually just summon him without any warning. Maybe to see Husk get pissed off, or maybe because he was really that impatient. “Got your fucking radio message. Ever heard of using a phone?”

The house is evocative of the abandoned homes that are the staple of any low-budget horror flick—with rotting floorboards, cobwebs in every corner, and skull paraphernalia decorating every available surface. It had been a shock to Husk at first, but now it was just a little blasé for his tastes. He half-expects Alastor to put up creepy decorations like hanging plastic bats or wearing a witch’s hat to liven things up.

But he only sees the same thing, with the lights completely out. There’s a fireplace from across the room, the wood dry, the flames gone. 

And it’s Husk’s first hint that something is wrong.

Every instinct is telling him to run, an instinct that he usually fucking listens to. After all, it’s the only damn reason he stayed alive for so long until an unfortunate slip up made him end up here in Hell. (He does not want to think about it, so he’s going to stop that right now). His foot is already half out the doorway, his wings opened up, in case something tries to grab at him from the darkness.

Instead, he stays. Instead, he walks inside the house. A sensation, a sound, pulls at him to move forward, hidden in the shadows, even as his mind is screaming at him to leave.

But he doesn’t think it’s Alastor that’s going to pounce on him in the darkness. If he did, he might have felt less afraid—mildly. But the feeling keeps moving his feet further inside the home, to hallways that sometimes shifted for his own boss’s shits and giggles. Husk lost count of how many times he would find himself in a long hallway with no doors to leave through, just for Alastor’s own amusement. 

But the shadows that move around him, some of them with eyes, are frantic. The hallways keep rearranging themselves until he feels he has been traveling for miles. There’s always another door, always another deer skull hanging around, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to leave again once the home brings him to where he needs to be. 

He also keeps hearing that same radio signal from before—those short and long bursts, high-pitched and keening inside his head. It makes him shiver, makes him grit his teeth, but he keeps going forward, even as the sound makes him want to rip off his ears. It’s distant, but it’s growing, and he knows he’s getting closer the further he goes deeper into this house.

At one point, he finds himself on the stairs. Old, creaking stairs that are covered in mildew, where a few steps in-between were entirely missing. He walks up them with no question, his wings fanning out to hover any missing places for his feet. The stairs seem to lead in a spiral, and then the wood slowly, almost subtly, begins to turn to metal grates. Instead of mold, there is now rust, much of it covering the railing Husk occasionally uses. It makes his claws screech against it, whenever he lets his hand place itself on it.

The radio tower is supposed to be on the other side of Pentagram City. But Alastor’s home has always been a place to rend apart reality to suit where he wanted to be, whether that’s a murky swamp or a glaring red tower where the frequency is always at an awful signal—and it was that awful signal bringing him up, always playing that same deformed patterns, over and over again.

But then, Husk finds himself at the top, and the red decor that makes up this place is almost all gone. It’s just dark, and it’s cold, and there is Alastor—

—and he’s kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room before a woman that Husk knows, because everyone knows who she is.  

There are nights when Husk tries to sleep, and makes sure his damn radio is off. But he still hears singing, floating on the air, and he can’t help but admit that the voice makes him feel some sort of hope that he should have stamped out years and years ago.

She’s so tall, regal and timeless, with sleek and black horns curving from her head to tangle along her golden hair. In her hands is a chain made of a color that there is no name for. She looks over at Husk, who has just appeared from the dark like nothing, first with a curious lift of an eyebrow—and then finally a light laugh. The melodic sound of it makes his heart race, fends off exhaustion from his limbs.

But then he sees Alastor again who is on his knees, whose head is bowed, and over his neck is a manacle that is so tight—and then the chain pulls upward.

And the movement makes Alastor lift his head and there is a flash of something that’s terrified and broken, and any music that lives in Husk’s head is suddenly gone in a flash.

He makes the mistake of talking.

“What’s…going on here?” His voice doesn’t even sound like his own. The tone is tight, stripped of everything. It’s as if some part of him knows that if he breathes wrong, it’s over.

“Oh, look, Alastor. Your friend is here.” The woman finally speaks, her eyes flicking over the chained Radio Demon. His head is still turned away, and only Husk notices then that his once neat red hair is frazzled, unkempt. 

At her tone, Alastor starts visibly shaking. His ears lay flat against his head, and Husk can even hear him breathe faster. “No.”

“You don’t believe me? But you must have heard him.” The woman smiles, something that Husk can still see, even in the dark. “It seems he’s finally caught us.”

Husk isn’t sure he wants to understand what she fucking means by that.

She bends down from her great height so she can place her hand over Alastor’s head—so grand that it looks as if she could crush the demon’s head with just her palm. Her fingers tap along Alastor’s cheeks, a thumb playing with his hair. “You should greet him. It’s only polite.”

And in Alastor’s voice, he hears something akin to terror. Panic. Shame. The radio filter is off completely, leaving no room for error to what Alastor feels, to what he’s experiencing.

“Wait, wait, no—”

“Now, come on.” A hand that grips the back of Alastor’s hair, and a pull of the chain that yanks him upward, enough to lift him just slightly off his knees. “Say hello.”

“Wait, stop it, I don’t-!” 

And then Alastor turns.

Husk sees a face that is finally bare of every glimmer, of every facade, of every blistering smile. Alastor stares back at him, under the pressure of both the hand and chain. In his eyes, steeped in red that is now so dark, there is an awful and silent cry. 

But in that silence, Husk hears something. It’s coming from deep within Alastor’s chest, the radio waves that had been missing from his vocal chords. But Husk hears it, those same long and short bursts of awful sound, all as Alastor keeps looking at him with widened eyes. Calling him.

Husk then realizes what he had been hearing over the radio back home: a corrupted form of an S.O.S signal.

He shouldn’t have answered Alastor’s call.

The next moments that come by are fuzzy in his recollection. The strange trip through Alastor’s home had made him lose touch with reality, so he isn’t sure just when his boss is suddenly back on the floor, dropped like a sack of rotting meat. He isn’t sure when the woman seemingly glides across the floor to stand in front of him, the chains having left her hands. He isn’t sure just when she looks down at him, as if she is an ancient mountain, and he is just some pathetic outcropping of mud that had somehow ended up in her shadow.

This is his fault, Husk thinks, all as he stares up at someone who held a certain type of beauty he could only call terrifying. Stupid fucking bastard. Yet, he keeps flicking a glance towards his boss, who is still on the floor, and wonders suddenly at the damp sensation he felt over his palms.

The signal stops—for now. It’s faint, like a fading heartbeat. Husk doesn’t know if this means Alastor’s given up.

He can’t look long, because the woman demands his attention. She bends down, her golden hair unfurling past her shoulders, smelling of lavender. And then, she places her hands over his cheeks, and grips.

Not hard. Not painful. In fact, it is gentle, the way her fingers travel through his fur. But Husk is so, so deeply aware of the strength in her touch. And even then, he isn’t ready for the voice that leaves her painted lips, suddenly softer than when he first saw her.

“He hasn’t been treating you well, has he?” she says. This close, her voice makes his ears flick, makes something catch inside his chest until he feels it’s going to burst open with thorns, coated in poison. “You poor thing.”

And from the floor, Husk finally hears the static crackle in the air. It’s a sound he is long used to—Alastor always made clear his displeasure with him—but the context it exists under makes it screech with something desperate.

The woman sighs. He feels her breath sift the fur over his face, and how her hold slightly lifts up his chin. “I am so sorry for his rudeness. You would think he’d know better by now.”

Don’t say anything, Husk tells himself. He swallows, worrying how she must have seen that. How she must have felt it. He doesn’t want to be in the middle of this, but it’s far too late.

Then, a soft little screech that builds up next to them, the feedback bursting with so much feedback. “Lilith, you—”

A hand leaves Husk to gesture towards Alastor. The chain whips up like a frenzied snake, diving into her palm, and she pulls.

She pulls so hard that Husk hears Alastor gag. He hears just how very, very close it had come to breaking the Radio Demon’s neck. The static flickers and explodes, sounding like some horrendous mass of angry flies. It makes Husk’s fur stand on end, but he can’t look towards Alastor, because the woman still has her hand on his cheek.

The Queen of Hell, an ancient soul that so few have ever even seen. And somehow, Alastor is fucking entangled with her.

Husk does realize something though. The hand on him, which is still cradling his cheek gently, is normal-sized. Nothing like the grand, engulfing claw that had threatened to crush Alastor’s head just moments ago. He hasn’t even seen her transform or anything of the sort.

Or maybe she just makes them see what she wants them to.

“Such a naughty boy,” she says, her eyes flicking behind her, all while Alastor struggles to breathe. The chain goes lax again, and then comes the sharp intake of breath. “And here, I thought you wanted me to meet him.” The chains clink again, just slightly, and the air vibrates from the very intensity of some unspoken threat.

“Wait—” Husk says, breaking his own promise. He whispers desperately, his hands reaching out in instinct. Maybe he’s thinking that he’d reach for the woman’s shoulders, or even for her hands, where one was still resting against his face. Instead, his claws grasp onto black fabric, and his palms meet the solidness of her knees.

At that, the woman—Lilith, Queen of Hell—smiles down at him. “Getting handsy with me now?”

Husk sweats then. Shit shit shit shit.

He thinks he can feel Alastor grinding his sharp teeth together. The sound is in his skull, worming inside his very ears. He has no idea why it’s so invasive, why it seems to live inside him like some parasite.

But maybe bound souls were always close like this.

Husk quickly lets go, but he tries to calm his heart a bit. He tries to act fucking normal, but it is getting harder to even pretend when he once again stands before her. A part of him still remembers hearing her songs over the radio frequency, and that part of him wants to get lost in it completely…

“Look, I don’t know what…all of this even is…” He vaguely gestures at the space that was the radio tower, to where his boss still lies on the floor. “But, it just doesn’t seem…”

Right? Good? He isn’t sure of the word. What does goodness have to do with anything or anyone in Hell?

“Aw, I see. How sweet.” Lilith runs a gentle thumb against his fur. She hums, a soft melody. Slightly jazzy, even. It sets something stirring in his chest. “You were worried about him. Even after all he does to you.”

Husk doesn’t like the idea that she knows anything about what he has to deal with. And yet, the way she stares down at him, still humming, makes him suspect that she knows every little detail.

Did Alastor tell her? Or did she pull it out of him?

“Well, as you can see, he’s doing just fine.” She doesn’t even turn, still smiling down at Husk. Suddenly, Alastor appears next to her, still on his knees, a hand at his throat as he rubs at the manacle over it.

He sees Alastor stiffen, eyes darting all around as he realizes he’d been taken. His grin stays on his face, but it looks so close to breaking, the sharp points of his teeth trembling in their rictus shape. Reality shifts, and to Alastor, she is a giantess with horns of obsidian and a smile that is biting, eager to draw blood.

And when she sings, it’s so easy to fall under her spell.

“You should learn to cherish your friends more. All that fame, getting to your head.” An index finger, curved like a talon, presses against the very middle of Alastor’s forehead. Right where a certain symbol was engraved, inflamed and permanent and full of rage.

But Alastor only shakes instead. His eyes fixate on that finger, on her, on the glow of the chain that lays on the floor. He smiles so wide that his lips draw back from his gums, and soon there is blood, dripping from his mouth to slide down his chin.

Husk wonders how easily it would be for Lilith to slide her fingers inside the other’s skull, picking apart brain matter. He pictures it so easily, and so suddenly, with such a ferocity to it, of viscous fluids falling around him, and shards of bone that would pierce from Alastor’s head like broken porcelain. Husk stays frozen in place, visualizing bits of meat dropping to the floor all too clearly and all too detailed. What the fuck.

It’s not like he isn’t used to seeing such violence and gore, in his everyday life, or experiencing it himself. But it had played out before him like a feature film, and who the hell had put that in his head?

Lilith laughs, her tone so low and smooth. “It’s not healthy for you.”

The signal that had been sleeping inside Husk’s head, low and dull like a building headache, is suddenly deafening.

He winces, but Alastor remains still. A deer in headlights. Suddenly very fragile, and weak, and so very small.

“Now, what do we say?”

Husk closes his eyes, but it only makes him focus on the signal even more. It echoes inside his head in those same repeating patterns, until he’s surrounded in it. He doesn’t want to hear this anymore.

“....ry.”

“You’re mumbling.” The finger presses more against the forehead, and even though Husk isn’t even looking, he can somehow see it. He can even feel it. Like he’s the one there kneeling before her and staring, and watching as the light in her eyes brighten, as the smile on her face turns so sharp. 

Like he’s in Alastor’s place. Somehow. What is even fucking happening anymore?

“Again.”

Teeth that grind against each other further, filing down canines. Weakening himself for her. Husk feels the familiar weight of the manacle over his neck, and it only makes things even more confusing. This is never something he wanted to share with Alastor. He didn’t want to be here.

“I am… trying …to be apologetic—”

The finger bores down through bone, with a sickening crunch. Alastor—or Husk—gasps in pain, but still remains on his knees. Lights flash in his vision. This was death, slow and methodical. Permanent.

“Mean it,” Lilith speaks. Or sings, her tone so sweet and airy. It sounds much too beautiful for what she’s doing to him.

The finger burrows further in, like a hungry maggot. Alastor and Husk and whoever they are now are shaking, with tears in their eyes. It won’t stop until she’s satisfied. And they just want it to stop.

“I-I-I…I’m s-sorry …”

And even then, it’s said through gritted teeth.

Lilith hums, her face so close, even as her claw still digs through meat and bone like it was just a bit of dust she was cleaning up. “Now, that wasn’t so hard. Very good.” Then, she leans down to kiss him.

And it’s the moment she kisses him, or Alastor, or maybe himself still, that Husk is wrenched away back to his own body. He doesn’t feel the pain, or the softness, or anything else. Only the hand on his cheek.

She hasn’t let go of him all this time.

Alastor then slumps to the floor, breathing hard again, his ears laid flat against his head, and his antlers pulsing and threatening to grow, but just stop short. Lilith ignores him, turning back to Husk, and now petting at his ears.

“I’d like to get to know you more,” she says.

--

At some point in the night, Husk found himself having a drink with the Queen of Hell. 

It’s something that the Hell-papers would have chewed on for a week—’Our Beautiful Queen Gives Charity to Some Drunk Loser!’ the headlines might have spun—and then keep recycling that story for weeks. But Husk isn’t one to care about someone’s certain station in this messed up landscape that was his afterlife. He’d already been an Overlord once, and those hanging from the higher rungs of the ladder didn’t always do so with style, let alone any sort of decorum. The closest he could say was any such thing was Zestial, but he’d never known the Overlord on a personal level.

And Alastor could always put on a persona when one didn’t know of his petty nature.

But as Husk is forced to sit before her, in some weird imitation that reminded him of Rosie’s little get-togethers, he has to give something to all that reputation. He has to admit to himself that he’s scared shitless by what she represents, all while still having little to no idea of who she truly is.

Except for what she has done to Alastor. And except for the songs that Husk could still recall from memory.

“You seem a little stressed,” she says to him, holding up her drink, and smiling pleasantly. It seems genuine. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light. But so little light pierced through this space—they were back in Alastor’s home in one of his second-rate nightmare parlors, with all of its stupid hunter decorations, its shoddy wallpaper, and its animal skulls that were even on the very table they were sitting at.

To the side, far off in the corner, Husk could just barely catch the shape of Alastor. Hardly any noise except for a brief crackle or two, his face just faintly lit up by the manacle on him.

“Not exactly a relaxing place, if you get my meaning.” He doesn’t even remember how they got here, but he stares over at the cup in front of him and kinda wishes he at least had some whiskey to spice it up.

…And just like that, a whiskey bottle appears, elegantly-shaped, the liquid inside looking as if it was distilled from ambrosia. The label on it is vintage, or actually, even older than that. As if Lilith has just pulled out the alcohol from a time long past, a time that she lived through.

Only one other person has ever bribed him with drinks like this.

“It’s a smooth flavor, I guarantee it.” Lilith nods, looking over at Husk with golden eyes, then takes another sip of her drink. He wonders if there’s already anything in the liquid, if it’s something that will bind him down if he dares.

“I’m good,” he says, though not without his tone becoming a little snappy. “I’d rather not be drunk for this.”

“Ohh, are you a lightweight? I wouldn’t have guessed.” She places the glass back on the table, flicks a glance towards a deer skull that had bits of cobweb stuck to the antlers. She looks at it, and hums, then turns back to Husk. “Maybe you and Luci would get along.”

In the corner, he hears another crackle. A sharp pain jams into his skull. Yeah, alright. So whatever Alastor was feeling, he was going to feel now. That was fantastic.

Husk’s tail flicks, swatting away at invisible flies. “I think meeting one of Hell’s royalty is enough to spice up my night.”

His tone is brisk, but Lilith doesn’t seem to mind. She simply lays her elbows on the table, places her chin on the top of her hands, and leans forward. “Sounds like you know how to make someone’s night very exciting.”

There’s a part of him reeling at the fact just now. The Queen of Hell is flirting with me.

And yet, there’s another part of him that wants to act like a bastard. Maybe it’s Alastor’s influence, or the ache in his head. Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t slept fuck-all since coming here.

“Oh yeah? Sure, lady, I can show you a good time…”

With a sharp-toothed grin, Husk takes the whiskey bottle that the Queen had conjured, dangling it by its neck as he holds it between two fingers. He shakes it slightly, back and forth like a metronome, then flips it up into the air above them.

It doesn’t shatter into a thousand pieces or spill. Instead, it instantly transforms into a long-stemmed rose. Husk catches it without even a blink, handing it over to Lilith. The grin on his face is tight.

“Here’s a shitty little party trick for you, your Highness. ”

He still feels kinda pissed off at that weird torture session he had the pleasure of enduring.

If Lilith is angry at his comment, she doesn’t show it. She might even have the best poker face Husk has ever seen, all as she graciously takes the rose and brushes the petals against her chin. “If this is what you can do now, I can’t wait to see you when you’re in a good mood.”

Her voice is low, a soft timbre quality to it. Almost like a purr. Husk clears his throat. It’s been a while since he’s been in this type of game, and he’s way rusty at it now.

“Listen, can we cut through this shit and tell me why I’m still here?” He doesn’t feel like being polite, or even smart. He just wants to leave. He keeps his eyes diverted, trying to look at anything in this house that is vaguely normal. The closest is a piece of lint that’s caught on the edge of the carpets. “I didn’t mean to walk in on whatever fucked up game you and the boss do. I’ll just forget it. I’m good at that.”

And when Lilith speaks again, he expects disdain, or even some kind of anger. He’s just some low-life nobody that’s talking back at what is one of the oldest beings of mankind.

Except, and here is where she is suddenly at his chair, right where his wings are laid across them. And her hands place themselves over his shoulders, and her hair falls over his face, like the gossamer strands of a frail curtain.

Except, she suddenly sounds so very sad.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

There is no fucking way, he thinks, but as her voice is so close to his ear, it’s hard to focus on all the misgivings in him.

“And as I said before, I only want to get to know you.”

Reality shifts again.

Husk used to care, once long ago, how he presented himself. Clean-pressed suits, slick-backed fur, and his wings carefully preened so that feathers didn’t fall into the customer’s drinks. Even the occasional ‘kitty’ comment he’d endure as long as they were paying for a game at one of his tables, or were desperate for deals that he was open to negotiate on. The only messes were the occasional blood spatters on the carpets when he had to take out the trash himself, or bullet holes in his walls from those who excelled at winning the game of stupidity.

Alastor’s deal made him forget all that. What did dignity matter when one was forced to work behind the bar, or made to match his owner down to the shade of his bow tie? So he drank, and he would forget, and it was better that way.

Until Lilith is facing him, holding both of his hands, her dress covered in rhinestones, and her gloves made from black satin, the material soft against his claws. Husk looks down, and the suit he is wearing now is like a second skin he’d long forgotten he missed. Barely a thread out of place, with even his favorite designs—heart and spade next to each other—on his lapel, and his bowtie a classy shade of gold instead of stark red. His wings stretched, and they remained up instead of dragging to the ground like they mostly did these days.

A quick, furtive look around, and Husk sees them both on a stage. The audience before them is faceless, just a mass of black with bobbing heads. The lights above them are so bright, and they halo around Lilith specifically, brightening up that wonderful smile.

She lets go of his hands, and waves to the crowd. Still, she keeps her eyes on him. “You’ve always been a stage man.”

She says it like she knows him. And going by his outfit, and the fancy lights around them, she probably, actually does.

He spreads his hands wide before him, then notices the gleam of heart-shaped cufflinks just at his wrist. How did she know every detail? “Well, I’m not much of a performer anymore,” he tells her.

And suddenly, a saxophone appears in his arms, the sash already looped around his shoulder. The weight of the instrument is almost like nothing to him.

“Let me hear you play.”

Husk stares at her, then back to the instrument in his hands. His claws fell over the keys, molded for his own touch instead of just anyone else. “It’s been years.”

In Lilith’s right hand, a microphone forms out from the stage lights. She brings it close to her mouth, while her other hand reaches down to stroke Husk’s cheek. “But you haven’t forgotten.”

She’s right.

Husk isn’t immune to the allure of a beautiful woman, even if there is something behind her eyes that terrifies him, and how he still remembers the pain she had inflicted on Alastor. The ache of it still lingers inside Husk’s skull, but when she hums so sweetly into the microphone, so much of it simply washes away. The stage lights focus on her, making her dress sparkle. 

He knows her songs, some of them uplifting and powerful, and others so sweet and melancholy that it drives souls to the brink of madness. It’s a coinflip to what she would sing next for that radio show, where her songs simply served as a backdrop to the array of screams.

The brief reminder makes Husk blink. Shit. Where’s Alastor? He looks around, but there is only the stage and the audience, which is only dark shapes and nothing else. They applause when Lilith begins to sing, her voice caught on the sweeping melancholy that already makes his limbs feel heavy, as if his bones were being slowly filled up by honey.

It’s a nice feeling. Almost addicting.

Husk knows he should be high-tailing it out of here, but when Lilith sings, it seems to move his limbs in other ways. His wings stretch wide, and he already presses down on the saxophone’s keys as he plays along with a song that he already knows. It doesn’t seem to matter if the lyrics she sang move through his head, losing shape and meaning, until it was just the melody itself. Maybe that’s what she wants, after all.

“You have such talent, Husk” she tells him between the verses. She says it casually, her voice showing no fatigue. She controls her notes as easily as changing into her dress. “It’s such a shame you don’t get to use it.”

A question that wrinkles the smoothness of the moment. Husk pauses on his playing, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Lady, not that I don’t appreciate the compliment, but no one’s stopping me from just busking around.”

He really could, like the old days when he would put up small side hustles of card tricks to make a little extra cash, accompanied by playing out in the streets when he didn’t feel like grifting. Hell’s own streets weren’t always as receptive to a random show (and in some places like Cannibal Town, sometimes they were too eager) but he knew the good spots. And back in his casino heydays, he had to stop himself from going out to play old melodies on stage just for the heck of it.

Lilith only smiles at him, and then brings the mic close again, turning towards that faceless audience. Another note, one that builds higher and higher, and it pulls at his hands again to play along, to use his breath to match the beats of her own.

And it’s suddenly akin to the feeling of being pulled by the strings.

Husk can’t even will himself to stop, his thoughts becoming only filled with that music, one that writhes and lives inside him. It’s euphoric, and it’s terrifying. Isn’t it better to just play like this? A part of him says, something that doesn’t even sound like him. Husk can’t shake it away though, still not finished with the song that Lilith leads.

Don’t you want to be a freer soul?

And as the music slows, Lilith towers over him, humming the last note into the microphone. She smiles, and it’s only for him. She is a beautiful soul, decked out in lights, so bright that it blinds him. It’s almost like a dream, but he knows he’s not dreaming—only dead.

As she hums, she extends her hand, its touch silky as she grips his chin. She raises it as the spotlight rings around them both, leaving the rest of the world in darkness.

“Wouldn’t you rather make a deal with me?”

The voice in his head is her, her music repeating in his skull like a tune he can’t shake off. It’s to the point where he can’t listen to anything else. And, for a second, he almost answers her before he even knows what to say. 

Then he hears it. The signals, thudding in his head, three short bursts, then three long ones.

What?

Husk blinks. The stage lights pierce right into his eyes with a terrible ache. The sound continues and it makes it all worse. Stop it. Stop it.

With a snarl, he wrenches his head out of Lilith’s reach, taking a step back.

And just like that, the stage disappears.

It’s almost like cold water is dumped on him immediately. The glitz and glamor that had been their surroundings is snuffed out, and he’s already shivering from the lack of clothes. No more of the clean-pressed suit and dazzling cufflinks, or even the shining instrument that was in his arms. Husk is back to his loose trousers and suspenders, the hat on his head nearly close to falling off him. He can’t even summon the energy to lift his wings.

Lilith, by contrast, still looks radiant as always, but there is a sharp glint in her eyes that isn’t there before. Then it moves to the right, back to a corner that is in the dark—

He hears Alastor’s static before he sees him again, a barely seen shape in the shadows. Turning to him, and his boss is glaring with eyes so brightly lit that it seems to engulf his face. 

Wait, Husk thinks. Did we even leave? Has he been watching the whole time?

And then the chain that connects from Alastor’s neck is given a sharp tug that sends his boss sprawling face-first into the floor.

“That’s enough.” Lilith brings the chains to wrap around her palm, the light of it reminding Husk of the stage. “Trying to disrupt my business, after all I did for you? Now you’ve just confused the poor thing.”

The chain’s links ringing together makes Husk grit his teeth. Alastor doesn’t even say words, still on the floor and glaring poisonous daggers in their direction. Was he mad at Husk too? Fuck me, I didn’t even want to be here!

Lilith has that strange look on her face, all as she slowly twirls the chains around her fingers. Husk snaps, full of exasperation and fatigue. 

“The hell was all that about before? What did you just do to me?” Husk shakes his head, trying to rid himself of whatever strange effects Lilith put on him. “Just…what are you even…?”

Stupid thing to say. He knows exactly what she is.

With those words, she shifts her attention from Alastor back to Husk, and suddenly her smile is much sweeter than before.

“I was only giving you a peek into your possible future.” Her eyelids lower, along with her voice. “If you’d like to switch deals, that is.”

Her voice sends another shiver through him, one he tries to ignore. “I’m fucking through with making any more deals.”

Like he’d risk getting another bad hand.

“Oh? But you haven’t even heard my terms,” she says.

Maybe Husk is a little more on edge than he realizes, because he stares up at her with slightly bared teeth. Or maybe, he already misses that stage more than he thought, and is angry at the thought that he left it so soon.

“No offense, lady, but if you made a deal with that whack job there, I can’t imagine one with me is much better.”

A risky glance to said whack job, but Alastor is barely looking now. His boss is still face-down on the floor, even if the static and signals are still thudding inside Husk’s skull. 

“Then, let me show you at least.”

Her hands reach up to his neck, and he stiffens. He can only imagine bad things, because nothing in Hell was gentle. But her fingers only hover over him, just barely catching onto the fur, even though she has already held him and certainly knows how he feels against her touch. He doesn’t like that a part of him is almost aching for her to touch him, that a part of him wants her to sing again.

Then he feels that familiar weight of the manacle that signals his status, his fuck-ups, and his desperation—all rolled into one embarrassing accessory that he could never take off. It’s only loosely-hanging on, like an oversized collar, and it only slightly burns whenever Alastor would will it so. He expects it to burn right now, but it doesn’t, even as Alastor is right there in the corner, consumed with so much angry static that’s like flies buzzing around incessantly.

The green of the chains light up Lilith’s eyes, just for a moment, before golden irises swallow it up. She presses one finger over the manacle, sliding over it, like it was the rim of a wine glass.

“I can get rid of this for you.” She raises her eyes to meet his own. “And I would never clip your wings the way he has.”

The words are so sweet that it makes his teeth ache, and it stings right at his heart.

“It’s also such a troublesome thing for you, isn’t it? Alastor has never been so good at keeping to himself. I’ve always told him it’s bad manners.”

That, however, is not what Husk expects to hear. He stares. “What are you getting at?”

Lilith’s eyes seem to express some sort of pity, and he’s not very sure if he’s pissed at the idea or not. “The way he just drags you to him, like a child.” She then brings her hand to his forehead, a thumb rubbing a circle over it, oddly soothing. “You’re not his whipping boy. His punishment wasn’t meant for you too.”

The memory of her finger digging through bone and meat, and then leaving no trace of it at all.

Fuck, so she did know of what happened.

She holds onto Husk’s chain, but takes care to not pull at it, or even tug. He doesn’t feel any pressure at all. “I’ve always been a solo artist, but lately, my songs have felt like… they’re missing something. So I’ve been looking around lately for someone who could help with that. Alastor’s radio show can only do so much. The people want so much more.”

Husk can’t believe what he’s hearing, once he’s finally caught on. “Are you saying you just want me to be part of your band? ”

It sounds so simple and so easy—and he can’t trust it all. But then Lilith smiles down at him, and suddenly it feels like he’d be crazy to not accept the offer. 

She curls her fingers around his chains, and he hears something crack. Metal snapping, slowly, one link at a time. 

“I love finding those who have talent, Husk. And baby, you have it.”

The promise of freedom, and the sweet words from someone who looked like a goddess—who practically was—is enough to make Husk consider falling down to his knees and accept anything she was offering. If he was younger, he would have. If he was still an Overlord, with all the money and power at his fingertips, he still would have.

But…isn’t this just changing one leash for another?

The signal bursts again, loud and grating, breaking the spell. It’s hard to focus, and it pulls at him like nothing else, and so he has to turn to that corner, and see Alastor get up to his knees. He has to see him glare and grit his teeth, and there’s something so incredibly feral there. Inhuman. Desperate.

“You can’t have him!”

It’s just a split-second but Husk sees Lilith drop her smile before she also faces Alastor. She stands tall instead of crouching down to meet Husk’s level. For Alastor, she will only view him from up on high.

The signal keeps bleating, in time with Alastor’s boiling words.

“He’s mine.”

Husk doesn’t want to admit that the word does something to him. He’s still half-sharing a space with Alastor, feeling his rage that sends his teeth shattering from the strain of it. He can also feel how the Radio Demon is engraving that word deep in his chest, past the bones of his rib cage and squeezing painfully at his heart.

Lilith only stares, her silence so deafening that it overpowers the static until it’s fizzling out, like the hisses of a dying fire. Alastor keeps glaring and his teeth look ready to tear, but he doesn’t move. 

In Lilith’s hands are two separate chains, entwined together. She wraps both different-colored links around her fingers, and seems to consider.

“You never seem to understand that what’s yours is mine. Your power. Your radio show. Your souls.” She tilts her head, golden hair cascading, the strands nearly reaching Alastor’s face by just half an inch. Distance seems to mean nothing to her, already with Alastor, with Husk. Everywhere. “You have plenty of others, don’t you?”

The signals inside Husk’s head transform into a monotone, blaring and digging further inside. It’s panicking. It’s reeling over from fear. Husk feels the urge to run over to Alastor and shake him so that he could fucking calm down and not make this all so much worse.

“Ah, but maybe…” Lilith has her smile again. She wraps the chains tighter around each other. “It’s only him, isn’t it? Oh, Al… you should take better care of those you love.”

At that, the signal is so loud, so awful, like claws slowly tearing through metal, that Husk collapses to the ground.

He just barely hears the chains clatter at his motion, but he’s already clutching his head, ears pinned down, and fur standing on end. He can’t even open his eyes. The sound is unreal. It’s torture. His head is literally going to explode into tiny bits and pieces from the sheer pain of it.

You should take better care of those you love, he hears again, and then it gets even worse. Like he was caught in a spiral and kept descending and descending, knowing there was no end to it.

Why was Alastor doing this to him?!

By then, it’s only her voice that finally saves him.

It’s faint and distant, like a far-off light through the fog. Husk feels his soul stumbling towards it, but as she sings, the pain seems to recede. It takes him a while to know that she’s holding his face again, like before, lifting him up, and humming what sounds like some sort of lullaby.

The static and the awful signal seems to disappear. He tries not to think about what that means.

Lilith bends down, and he wonders if she’s about to kiss him, the same way she did with Alastor.

“Husk…” she whispers, her lips just brushing against his pointed ear. He feels her breath across his fur. “My deal still stands. My voice, your music.”

He clasps her wrists, tightly. He shakes, and he considers.

A curious note in Lilith. “Did you change your mind then?”

He doesn’t hear anything in his head now. Only her beautiful voice, and the lingering memory of a song they played together. It should have been easy to decide. After all, how many times in the middle of the night has he wished to finally escape the means of his deal? How many times has he wished he would never see that infuriating smile of Alastor’s ever again?

Instead, Husk just holds that position, looking down. He waits, almost sure of what he would say.

“No,” he says instead.

“Hmm. I see.”

It’s not disappointment in Lilith’s tone, just acceptance. Somehow, that’s worse.

With the pain gone, Husk lets go of her, and slowly gets to his feet. He tries not to think about how he somehow keeps touching her. But then again, back in the day, he’d have done everything he could to lay his hands on someone as beautiful as she is. Even if right now, he can barely look her in the eye.

But she’s also touching him too, hands still over his cheeks. And she hasn’t let go just yet.

She’s expecting him to say something. So he does so, struggling.

“I only came here because the boss called me.” He won’t say his name right now. “I didn’t come here for deals, or to be part of some new music crew. And right now, all three of us in this room is doing none of us any fucking favors. So maybe just….” He trails off. 

But there’s no polite way to tell someone to leave, especially when he’s not sure he wants her to.

He doesn’t think Lilith would hurt him, but he flinches when she leans forward again. But it’s simply to plant a kiss just over his forehead. He feels the pressure, the warmth of her mouth, the feel of her lipstick. There’s a part of him that wants to know the taste of it.

It’s blackberry, from when she kissed Alastor before. He resists the urge to lick his lips at the memory.

At both the thought and her face, Husk looks up as she smiles down at him.

“I can see why Al likes you. Such a rare kind of soul. But I really hope he takes better care of you.” Then, her voice, only for him right now. “And if he doesn’t… call me.”

Husk isn’t sure, but it almost sounds like she means it.

It��s sudden when she leaves—like a dream from an intense hangover, leaving him reeling and wanting to fall back down to his knees. Everything about her is gone; from her hands that were once on his face, to her song that’s barely an echo around him. There’s just the creepy house of Alastor, still with its grisly decor and torn-up wallpaper, its decaying stairs and its array of skulls placed on the bookshelves. No evidence at all that there had once been fancy lights once upon a time.

“God damn—” Husk stumbles, trying to keep himself from banging his head on the floor a second time. That’s it then. He’d told her to hoof it and she did. He feels a sense of relief. A sense of anxiety. A sense of unimaginable loss. Almost like she’s already taken his soul without him realizing.

And without her to even provide even a modicum of distraction, Husk hears that same stupid, godawful signal that had ruined his entire fucking night. The bursts of static are low and jarring, but faint, like the wings of an annoying, dying beetle.

Alastor is still in that corner, probably having his own pity party right about now.

Husk feels sick. He’s not in the mood to feel sympathy. Still, it comes regardless. He rubs at his face, missing the softness from before.

“ Boss, ” he calls out, pulling on the word like it’s a bad taste on his tongue.

He doesn’t get a response, Alastor still lying on the ground like some dead fawn.

“Fucking asshole, you keep calling out to me this entire time and now you won’t say a damn word!?” The dazed feeling from before is now fully gone, his anger evaporating it all. Husk goes to Alastor, kicking aside stupid cobwebs and stray bits of bone from the decorations to kneel on the floor and grab Alastor’s shoulder. Not like the fucker was going to hurt him for touching him. Not now. “You wanna explain to me why the literal Queen of Hell was even here? Christ, what did she even mean when she said you…”

Hell, he can’t even repeat it.

But Alastor just groans, lifting his head. Weak eyes flicker in their depths. But no answer.

Husk feels himself start to shake. So he shakes Alastor more for good measure. “Well?! Ya really got nothing?”

“Husker…” Alastor says, then raises an eyebrow. “So… you didn’t leave….” He then lets out a soft exhale. “That’s good.”

Maybe there’s a hint of triumph in his voice, if it hadn’t been so, so weak. Husk wants to punch him more than anything.

Still, his boss is alive and barely functioning. Alastor’s eyes slowly close again, the static fizzling out, as if a storm has finally cleared. The man passes out.

Husk shouldn’t feel glad about any of this.

“Dammit, Al. Why should I even give two fucking shits to what happens to you?” he growls out, voice trembling. “Someone finally offers me a way out after everything. I should have left. Why didn’t I leave?” 

He pauses, speaking to nothing, to no one. Just the darkness of this home and an unconscious demon who has the faintest smile on his face.

“Why did you call me of all people? Niffty, Rosie…. Hell, even fucking Vox. Why me?”

But he’s not going to get an answer, no matter if his boss is awake or not.

Even so, after everything, he grabs Alastor’s shoulder, pulling him along from his pathetic position. It’s instinct almost, barely feeling anything for it. It’s not the first time Alastor would be exhausted like this, whether from going hog-wild on an Overlord killing spree, or stressing his magic to give someone a real good scare. And Husk was usually the fall back, the one to watch out for things. Reliable, Alastor had once told him. For a washed-up drunk, he’d also add.

Yet as Husk brings Alastor up, close enough to see those small antler stubs, to hear the subtle breathing, he can’t help but remember that soft hand on his cheek.

That soft hand that had also made Alastor writhe in pain.

With a held-in sigh, Husk digs a hand into his pocket. Another instinct as he determines how to carry Alastor without having him get tangled up in his wings. His claws feel out the familiar edges of his playing cards, sort of a calming habit of his—except, this one felt different.

Husk pulls out the card, its surface a gleaming white instead of the red and black of his own. On the front, there was a phone number, all written in an elegant flourish. And then, there was her name, followed by a little command. The presence of it sends a thrill through his spine. He can’t tell if it’s from excitement or fear. 

Maybe the difference doesn’t really matter.

Call me.