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creatingblackcharacters · 2 months

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“Romance Will Not Solve Racism”- Interracial/Biracial/Blended Black and White Relationships and Families

I broke this lesson on white/Black interracial relationships and identity off from my multicultural lesson because this is one that demands its own talk. People think that the existence of interracial relationships, biracial children, and blended families means that we are “moving forward as a society”. While admittedly it’s no longer illegal- and the fight that went into it for the right was very important- it doesn’t mean that the world is “getting past racism”. Far from it, if I’m being very direct.

Tokenism

“It’s a given that they’re not racist, they’re in a relationship with a Black person.”

Some of the most antiblack racist people I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing are the ones that think they ‘could never be racist’ because they draw “Black” characters, reblog “Black” posts, or “enjoy” Black characters. What I need you all to understand, going into your creation, is the proximity to Blackness does not mean antiracism. In reality, they are usually just tokenizing Black characters and people.

Tokenism: “the practice of making only a perfunctory or symbolic effort to do a particular thing, especially by recruiting a small number of people from underrepresented groups in order to give the appearance of sexual or racial equality and equity within a specific societal system (workforce, school, university, movie, tv-show etc.)”

In other words, the token Black friend/partner/child/favorite character is the person that white people will point to, to suggest that they are not racist because there is someone Black that they can stand to be around. They value them as pawns, not as people.

This can and often does apply in these scenarios. A white partner that might be nice to their Black partner may switch up one day if said Black partner doesn’t act the way they want (‘you’re not like other Black people’), revealing a side they hadn’t before. Many white spouses have rejected their spouses’ Black biracial children or treated them less in comparison to their own white children. It has been noted that white foster families will adopt Black children for the money (because they’re ‘cheaper’) or performance value, since people don’t adopt Black children as much (one family even murdered all of them in a murder-suicide).

Meanwhile, the whole time, they ‘seemed so nice!’ Racism can come from ‘nice’ people. So moving forward this is something we need to keep in mind. If anything, you need to be even more aware of this when writing, as these characters supposedly have a close relationship.

“What are you mixed with?”- Colorism

It’s also not coincidence that many of the acceptable, “beautiful” Black biracial people are the Zendayas of the world. Light skin, looser textured hair. These are the Black biracial people that are brought to the forefront, but they are not representative of every Black biracial person!

Now, this is one of my biggest pet peeves, both in character design and in life, so say it with me:

BEING BIRACIAL DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MEAN LIGHT SKINNED, AND BEING LIGHT SKINNED DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MEAN BIRACIAL!

I want to bite everyone that thinks this lmao. People will see lighter-skinned Black people and ask “what are you mixed with?” It infuriates me, the idea that we are somehow more beautiful for that proximity to whiteness. The idea that being Black alone is not enough to be beautiful, there must be something else in you that makes it that way.

(I’ve also known some unattractive light skinned and mixed people so… It’s just not true.)

This belief easily permeates society, and that includes artists and writers who want a specific look for their characters. Every mixed child is NOT going to be light skinned!!! LET IT GO!!! “I want my character to have long, thinner textured hair, but I want her to have a natural ‘tan’ (their brown skin) so by being mixed, I can have that! How beautiful!” No. It’s very racist. If your goal is to obtain Eurocentric beauty standards for your character, but to ‘claim diversity and benefits’ in their Blackness, that is very much racist. Y’all gotta catch yourselves on that one!

"Passing"

I want to reiterate a point, that you’ve likely walked past many a Black biracial person and just assumed they were Black. Blackness is not just a skin color, but a measure of social standing as well. We have been socialized to think of Blackness as less than, so once someone has been perceived as Black, someone’s perspective will be affected by antiblackness, regardless of their complete background.

But, when it comes to being biracial with whiteness, there’s also the concept of “passing”, where you might have assumed they were white!

Now, this is a controversial, and U.S. American-centric, view that I’m about to express. People will disagree with me, and that’s fine. Colorism does offer privilege to light skin. But I am of the opinion that if you have to ‘pass’ as white, you are not White. White people don’t have to pass. They just are. No matter what other marginality they are, that whiteness is the one thing they can lean on. If you can have that whiteness and the privilege that comes with it revoked by sheer awareness of the Blackness in your genetics, you are not White, because white people can never have that happen to them. So you might be able to get away with whiteness, as long as no one knows!

It’s why things like the One Drop Rule, the Paper Bag and Pencil Test, and terms like quadroons, octoroons, creoles, mulattos and such exist.

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Strong dependence on the Mammy stereotype in this movie aside, one of the main plot lines of Imitation of Life is a Black woman, Annie, and her mixed daughter Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane is beautiful, but most importantly she can pass as white (the actress is Jewish). But Sarah Jane struggles with the reality that her society treats her better when she’s ‘white’ but will immediately and violently turn their back on her when she’s revealed to be half-Black. She hides and rejects her Blackness to protect herself from the pain, but rejecting her Blackness means rejecting her beloved mother, and everything she’d done for her. Annie dies of illness and heartbreak, having accepted that this is the choice she’s made.

(also, Trouble of the World by Mahalia Jackson is one of my favorites)

Fetishization vs Reality of Black biracial children

Again: people like to place a lot on the existence of Black biracial babies. They think the existence of a Black biracial child means that race simply isn’t a factor. They’ll seek the ‘beauty’ of mixed children, plus the performance points of ‘non-racism’ because they exist. Imagine your own parent- whom you’re supposed to love and trust- treating you as violently as the world outside; treating you like those puppies people get at Christmas where it was fun as a concept but ready to toss by Easter because they’re no longer titillating. Black biracial children are not toys, and they are not symbols: they are human beings!

If you plan on writing a white parent to a Black child (biracial or not) that is a GOOD parent, then they need to be aware of their child’s specific needs! There are still things that will apply to your Black child character that are different from a white one that your white parent character needs to know. Otherwise, your Black and Black biracial viewers will notice that this kid would not realistically be safe, healthy, or happy.

This includes learning to do their hair, or where to take them to get it done; recognizing when some conversations just aren’t ones they can have on their own, when they are treating their Black child like their life experience and day to day needs are that of a white child’s. I recognize that every story isn’t going to center racism, but if your story does want to acknowledge it, this also includes learning how to catch when their child is being discriminated against by their own white family members (just because THEY as a parent are okay, doesn’t mean their families are), in school or in other social spaces. That child might be in danger, but if their white parent does not recognize that, they will not protect them!

Antiblack racism from white parents has been spoken about often amongst Black children. Children of color in general adopted by white parents can speak on it. The rapper Logic has rapped often about his white mother calling him slurs. You can tell when a Black biracial child’s hair is not being done properly because their white parent does not care to learn, and is trying to physically force whiteness upon them via assimilation. It can actually be incredibly damaging for a Black biracial child to have a white parent that does not know how to take care of a child that will face the world far differently than them.

This can include feeling excluded from certain parts of your identity, just because you aren’t “enough”. One example multiculturally is the pressure to assimilate. For example, some Latino families not teaching their children Spanish, or Kenyan families not teaching their culture, to assimilate in (white) American culture.

Very often, white people no longer in a relationship with their Black partner will isolate their Black biracial child from their Black family, thus cutting off access to half of their heritage. Thus, many Black biracial kids find themselves confused about that line. Ideally, their parents will be healthy enough to have those conversations and strengthen their self-identity, regardless of their relationship with one another.

So when you’re writing your character, they should not be telling them that ‘we don’t see race’, or any other things that imply that the Blackness within them is somehow shameful or doesn’t need to be acknowledged.

How to actually treat a Black partner

Any Black person (with any self-respect, let me clarify) will not want to be with someone that’s racist. This doesn’t mean that their white partner will be perfect immediately, but they should still come in with some decency.

I personally do not find it romantic teaching someone how to treat me like a human being. I’m passionate about these topics and education on them, but there’s still a distance between you and I, reader. You are a person I don’t know, that could either learn from what I teach (which is good!) or decide to… Well, stay racist, and be treated as such 🤣 But I would never give my heart to someone that I’m unsure of. It’s far safer to be with someone that has already done much of the work on their own, or at least has put the effort in and will continue to do so.

Black viewers do not want to spend time watching a white person realizing they’re a human. Partners are supposed to be a space of respite and security. How can you be safe and comfortable if someone’s always throwing microaggressions at you (unintentional or not), refusing to or incapable of understanding your perspective when it counts, only understands your experience on a surface level, or is determined to ‘make it not matter’… and then call it love?

Like if a white character is giggly because ‘omg they’re listening to “Black” music they’ve never heard before’ or ‘eating “Black” food’ because of their Black partner, that’s… god I’d close the book immediately. We’re not a different species. That’s not romantic, it’s just weird. You can have a new experience without treating it like your white character is going to the zoo and reading the exhibits.

Your white characters should be learning and applying constantly- consent to touch hair and body, learning what not to say or when it’s not their space to speak on a topic, learning about how the world treats their partner so that they can understand. This includes their own friends and family- why would a Black partner want to be with someone that doesn’t defend them from racist family members?

Your white character may not always get it right, and that’s fine*. But one thing I’ve discussed in a prior ask is that the bar for knowing if your relationship with a white person is a safe one (at least, at that moment) is if you can correct them. If you can tell your white person that they have done something wrong, something racist, or that there’s something they should know to continue this relationship, and they react well? Okay. That’s an opportunity for writing character AND relationship growth!

*There’s levels to this; obviously there’s some things you can’t (or shouldn’t) come back from

Depicting this may be hard for someone that… that hasn’t had that conversation. I have been able to write that sort of scene. But if you’ve never had that conversation, you won’t know how it goes. I have to be honest with you… This is where it would be good to have Black friends that feel comfortable enough to have these conversations with you. I mean, you shouldn’t go make friends just because you want to use them for creation. That would be disrespectful. But if this is something that you want to write, I would highly suggest that you grow familiar with microaggressions and acts of antiblack racism, so that you can understand WHY they are a problem. Can’t really apologize and “not do something again” if you don’t know what that something is.

Fetishization of Black Partners

The Jezebel and the BBC stereotypes come into play often via the idea that a Black partner is something wildly exotic and can be used for sexual experimentation. ‘Wanting to know about big Black dick’ or ‘if all Black girls squirt’ is objectifying. You can write us in your sex scenes- many of us do enjoy sex and can even be kinky! But watch that you’re being respectful, from your descriptions to your dialogue. We’re not raging sex beasts and sex toys for your fantasies. We deserve care and our needs met as well.

There’s also this thing where white girls will date a Black man to ‘spite daddy', and when they’re done rebelling, that Black man is left in the dust, maybe even accused as an aggressor to excuse her ‘leaving’ her own (he manipulated her, tempted her away from the right path). We may side eye you if you have a white character ‘fake dating’ a Black person or ‘friends with benefits’- not because these tropes are racist, but often can be written that way if you’re not paying attention.

One controversial example is that of Rege Jean-Page’s character in Bridgerton. There’s a scene where his love interest essentially forces him to come inside her during sex. Now, there are people do enjoy consensual-noncon. The issue is that 1) some Black viewers who watched felt disturbed at the imagery of a Black man being forced to breed, especially given that historical context, and that it wasn’t treated as seriously, and 2) this scene if he had been the one forcing her would never have been received as well, especially with a Black male lead- it would not have been received as ‘spicy CNC’.

Interracial relationships- specifically with a white woman and a Black man- may also be looked upon with worry by Black family members. There is a history of Black men (and their surrounding Black community) being lynched for ‘defiling white women’. It’s not unusual for us to worry that we will not be safe in a white partner’s homes or lives, and will be asked to leave our information, who we’re with, and what part of town we’re in or going to. Get Out was a fantastic example of this; of how the only reason Chris escaped was because a friend of his knew where he was and came to get him. Otherwise, he would have been body snatched. So your ‘fake dating’ interracial AU might seem silly and fun to you, but a Black reader might look at it and go ‘wow, I would never put myself in this situation or deal with this sort of treatment without extra planning’.

As a side: the gigantic Black/Brown man in chains and a tiny white man holding those chains as symbolism for BDSM or 'possession'… Yeah that’s usually just racist beast and slavery imagery recycled. Please. I beg. I’ve almost never seen the opposite in fan art, and we all know why. There’s got to be something else we can use.

Black Parent, White Child

This is one that I almost never see talked about! Partially because our society deems any child of a Black person also Black, but there are blended families where there will be an existing child- and that child might be white! But we don’t see white kids adopted by Black families as much as we do the reverse, and there’s a reason for that!

There’s a difference in the dynamic! White parents with Black children are often seen as ‘saving’ them. I was once friends with a nice, older white (also racist, as it turned out) neighbor of mine, and people would often look at me like I was some poor, piteous negro child when we went to the store. But if my 50+ year old father were to walk around with a preteen white girl, people would react far more defensively.

Think about this: toddlers have tantrums, right? The world is ending in a heartbeat, that’s just where they are mentally. You’re ready to leave the store, they aren’t: boom. Tantrum.

A white toddler falling out into a tantrum and getting hauled off by a Black parent could very well get that parent arrested or killed if someone, misunderstanding due to their pre-existing biases, calls the cops for ‘kidnapping’. And that white toddler might not know that, but that’s the amount of power that they hold over that Black stepparent as a BABY.

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There was a Black Twitter thread that discussed what Black people would do if a crying white child came up to them and looked lost, and part of the discussion was that people were genuinely afraid to be seen with this child, because someone might assume that THEY made the kid cry, and it would get them hurt. Has nothing to do with not liking white kids, but the fact that we live in a world with a literal hair trigger on us- the last thing we need is to be seen as a threat to a white child.

Viewers will be affected by this bias as well. White parental characters to Black child characters will be given more grace and understanding versus the opposite.

A good example (of parental figures/mentors) is from Across the Spiderverse, with Peter and Miles vs Jessica and Gwen. Both mentors were a part of the Spider Society, both were in the wrong about how they treated Miles (damn near the whole Society did, which is another message on how we treat Black and Brown kids there!), and with how they treated their respective mentees. But Peter is treated with far more grace, despite his actions symbolizing that disappointment that Black kids often experience from white adult mentors that we’re supposed to trust, than Jessica Drew, who treated Gwen like the business mentor she was. Jessica was not motherly (remember that Mammy stereotype?) to Gwen because it wasn’t her job to be. But people were furious at her not ‘treating Gwen better’, for ‘putting her own child in danger’ and ‘not considering how Miguel would react’. But they were not as angry at, or offered more potential forgiveness, to Peter, who failed at the very same things with Miles.

Writing a Black Parent

Okay, so yes, there is ‘Black parenting’. To be honest, you’re not going to be able (and shouldn’t attempt) to write that, because it is a very specific experience that you’ll only know if you were brought up in it. Bringing up Jessica Drew again, another perspective to consider is that people thought she was a ‘bad mentor’, but as far as how my Black childhood went, she was quite gentle and firm.

Black parents are still humans, and parenting is still parenting. Be normal about it. All you need to do is keep in mind that we’re offering all of these characters and their relationship dynamics the understanding and writing they deserve.

If you’re writing a healthy relationship, there needs to be a sense of trust and respect between everyone involved, and that can reveal itself even in small interactions. If you’re writing a complex or negative parental relationship, that’s fine, but you’ll have to avoid certain overarching stereotypes of Black parenting styles (The ‘ghetto welfare queen with six kids’, the ‘absent thuggish father’, the ‘overaggressive woman that beats her kids’, the ‘Strong Black Mother who don’t need no man’). Make sure they’re a complex or bad parent because they suck, not because they’re what you think of when you think of Black parents.

Conclusion

There’s no free passes from antiblack racism just because you’re close to Black people; there’s no ‘invite to the cookout’ just because you don’t say slurs. This applies to your writing as well. It is not a given that your white character is in the clear just because they have a Black partner, children, or friends. If anything, they’ll need to be putting in extra work to maintain that intimacy. These are different forms of love, but all love takes effort, and it certainly won’t hold if they’re not being considerate of their loved one’s identity. By incorporating this level of thought into your writing- however subtly- it will show your Black viewers that you as the writer are aware, that you actually thought about us in these more intimate settings. Because as you and your white characters need to know, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black character design #biracial character design #antiblackness #stereotypes #Youtube

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month

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“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #angst with a happy ending #yall blame berries because im reading sweet surrender and the angst is causing problems in my head #and also just being so exhausted lmao #rock star eddie munson

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dekariosclan · 2 months

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My favorite Gale lines that I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER choose

…because they involve breaking up/hurting Gale and I am not strong enough for that 😮‍💨

Credit to the YouTubers who WERE strong enough and who posted these vids publicly for all to see: Copperspoon, BearRhi and Yaren Allena

I wanted to share for anyone who hasn’t seen these lines, because they are so heartbreakingly sweet, and they’re such a great glimpse into how deeply Gale loves Tav and how important commitment is to him. For my fellow Galemancers who are unable to select the ‘mean options’, this post is for you! Angst ahead (but worry not, I promise the end of this post will be uplifting)

So in Act II, when you are in the ‘flirting’ stage with the companions, if you find yourself romantically involved with someone else alongside Gale, you’ll get this dialogue, where he asks you to choose:

If you select the option that indicates you’d like to have a relationship with them both, Gale will respond very similarly to how he does if you ask about opening up your relationship to Halsin in Act III:

Gale: I’m sorry, but to know I had less than the whole of your heart - I can’t do it. Not when I would give all of myself to you. Call me greedy, stubborn, old-fashioned…but I cannot change who I am, or how I love. In any case, know that I harbor no ill will. I would rather see you happy with another, than not happy at all.

I love his first two sentences so much, because they really do sum up how Gale views your relationship: when he says he loves you, he loves you, and he is all-in. He gives his entire heart to you and he only asks that you do the same in return.

But also, look at how sweet and selfless he is, not harboring anger here even if you are considering ending the relationship. And, as if his lines above didn’t hurt enough, IF you are somehow strong enough to go through with the breakup, you can ask Gale if he hates you. And he says this:

Gale: I could no more hate you than I could go without air.

🫠😭😩 WHO CAN GO THROUGH WITH BREAKING UP HE IS THE SWEETEST MAN IN EXISTENCE HONEST TO GOD

Are you still with me? Is your heart obliterated? Hang on, we aren’t done. During your initial conversation you could also choose this option, stating you didn’t realize how strongly he felt:

And then Gale will respond with this:

Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn’t enough.

💔 This is especially heartbreaking, not only because of how Gale already feels like he’s ‘not enough’ after his failed relationship with Mystra, but ALSO, if you consider the exact words he says when he declares his endless devotion to Tav in the Act III alternate boat scene:

Gale: You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting. With these stars as my witness, I swear—you will always be enough for me.

You can see just how much it means to him.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

OKAY. If you have made it this far, time for some relief. All of the above dialogue aside, if you when you immediately come to your senses and realize NO OF COURSE YOU WON’T BREAK UP WITH GALE, HOW COULD ANYONE EVER DO THAT you simply tell him you’ve chosen him and, after he very sweetly expresses his concern for the other companions’s feelings, he will proclaim his relief and unwavering love for you:

Gale: I am beyond lucky to have you. Sometimes even the power of the Weave seems mundane, compared to how you make me feel.

❤️❤️❤️

Now, go forth my fellow Galemancers, never think of this post again, be content in the knowledge that you made the right choice in choosing Gale, and kiss that wizard with tongue because HE DESERVES IT.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x tav #galemancer #spoilers

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just-some-little-lads · 2 months

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His Favorite Place to Kiss

Hey, all! First official post I've made for LaDS! So I'm sorry if the personalities aren't quite as spot on (I'll learn more about Xavier, I promise)! Can you tell who my favorite is? Oops. Second person POV and a gender neutral MC!

Xavier

Your eyelids. As a cozy lover himself, he adores the way you look so peaceful when you sleep. So cuddly and…perfect in his eyes, even if you can’t always see it yourself. Oftentimes, he finds he stays awake longer than normal when you relax so languidly beside him. All he wants is to take the stress and troubles away from your life. That way, you can look like this always. But he knows he’s not capable of shielding you all the time… So, in moments like these, he keeps you safe in his own arms, letting you escape into the comfort of a dream. Then he’ll take a moment, pressing whispers of a kiss to your closed eyelids while you rest. It’s a little ritual he does, hoping it’ll chase any nightmares away.

Zayne

Your forehead. It had started with checking your temperature; the back of his hand against your head. An overprotective gesture he’d do often outside of the hospital. One which you didn’t always mind since it was better than him carrying a thermometer on him at all times. The closer you got, the more the gesture shifted to him pressing his forehead against yours instead. Then eventually developed into a kiss. It’s a reassurance for him in a way. He loves being able to do something so loving and protective at the same time. He’ll lean down and spend a quiet moment kissing your forehead before placing his chin on the top of your head, bringing you in close. A much needed habit now. Knowing your temperature is normal is a sigh of relief as well. One less thing to worry about. Because seeing you in good health is his only real wish…

Rafayel

Your hands. An artist’s fascination with hands might seem like a cliché, but with him, it’s true. He takes very good care of his hands, needing them to hold paintbrushes after all. He’s always said that he can tell a lot of a person just from their fingers, and it’s hard to tell if he’s exaggerating his capabilities or if it’s another secret superpower of his. A lot of times, he’ll tease you over the callouses you have from your weapons, saying that he’d just die if something so unsightly happened to his. But there are plenty of days when you come in with cuts or bruised knuckles, making him freeze. He’ll hold your hands tenderly in his and kiss your palms. He claims there’s some sort of “magic” to it, but how cheesy is that? It’s even more cheesy to think that it sort of works…

Sylus

Your neck. He’ll say this loud and proudly with a bit of a tease in his tone. He’ll say it’s something about the way he likes to “dominate his prey” or whatever condescending nonsense he always blathers on about. He likes to laugh about the story he tried telling you a while ago, and how you related him to a vampire. The joke has gone rather far if that’s the case. What he won’t tell anyone is how absolutely dumbfounded he is every time he gets to kiss your neck. He knows how vulnerable of a spot it is, and he's more than well aware of the terrible things that could happen if someone were to take advantage of this weakness. And yet…you trust him. Despite the…’rocky’ beginning and the distrust and the constantly being on edge around each other, somehow he’d done enough to earn your favor. Part of him wants to teach you to better have your guard up, but he can’t do such a thing. Every time he plants his kiss against the side of your neck and all you do is laugh or hum, he wants to melt, to scoop you up into his arms and never let you go. And he likes when you touch his neck too…because it reminds him that he’s learned to trust someone again.

#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader

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jellyfishsthings · 2 months

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WARNINGS: stlll angry reader because i am a petty and grudgy (is that a word? I am not sure) queen, death, funny internal monolgue (i am getting good at them) um not exactly smut but suggestive content ... oh and my terrible writing because it has been a while... also how cool is this collage like 🤯

part 1, part 2

The hotel they had been stayed was a little bit dusty and not overcrowded but his family hoarded him like crazy. They were talking his ear of nonstop demanding answers he didn't have once again. His shoulders felt too heavy and he just wanted to sleep. His lovely wife was avoiding him and when she wasn't avoiding him, she glared at him. His heart ached at her presence. How had he screwed up this one lovely thing fate threw in his way?

His family was a calming presence sure. But he didn't crave them the way he needed her, his chosen family. Don't get him wrong he loved his annoying siblings to bits, those little shots were everything he had. But he didn't seek them out the way he did her. He was infuriated with her from day one. He was a trained assassin, a ruthless killer, yet one simple smile from her, as lightly mean teasing comment turned him soft, weak to his knees, ready to do her every bidding. It wasn't healthy ... right?

He was glad she was getting along with his family and overjoyed when she fought by their side in the Sparrow Academy proving to be a valuable asset. He told her as such which resulted in more yelling from her and a fond smirk on his face formed on his lips as he heard his brothers snickering behind his back.

"Asset? You have the nerve to call me an asset?" Her voice could be heard from miles away but his heart flattered at her sight. Her cheeks were read from the fight and a new cut was adorning her right cheekbone and Five couldn't bring himself to care for the scene they were making because she was finally here, next to him, alive and partially unhurt. He would take her anger over her absence. His mind was calmer and he was more rational, less reckless. All he wanted was to grab her angry face and kiss the anger out of her. Was it toxic? Perhaps. Did he need her desperately? Definitely.

The days have gone by with the blink of an eye and as their impending doom approached them he could she her resolve crumbling, she became less harsh with him, tangling their fingers in show of silent support and Five at that moment felt invincible, there was nothing he couldn't do. If he was going to die he was going to die in her arms, he was going to feel her lips against his one last time and he was going to feel her around him again.

The opportunity arised in Luther's crazy wedding. He could understand the sentiment. He had done the same but he thought his marriage was more beautiful than his. His dark green eyes were constantly scanning the room as he consumed one drink after the other. He was going to be hammered beyond recognition and his wife seemed to have the same idea as she mixed drinks and swayed on her feet. She had never looked more beautiful. She had put on a bit weight, yet not enough and all he wanted was to staff her face with her favorite foods to make sure she would stay healthy.

Somehow they had ended up on the dance floor, stumbling over each other's feet as they giggled lightly underneath their breaths. They were watching them closely from the balcony of the room, yet he was so far gone in her that his brain was stuck in that thought as it repeated her name in an endless circle. His fingers ghosted patters in her lower back and he could feel the goosebumps rising at her exposed back. She had been wearing a beautiful dress, the one that resembled THE dress, the one she wore when their relationship started.

Their last night on Earth.

They were going to spend it together.

With a bottle of the strongest whiskey in hand and pulling her by the waist they ended up in an abandoned room as they stumbled and fell on each other. They flopped down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress and the springs groaned from the sudden weight. His jacket had been discarded in a matter of minutes as he pounced on her like an animal would to its prey and kissed her hungrily.

In a matter of minutes their clothes were resting on the carpeted floor and he was inside her moving at a lazy pace, gathering the other in their arms as soft chuckles and moans filled the air between them. For a moment they were back to their weeding night, were they had drunk once again more than it was humanly possible and they recited their vows while they made love. Five had always craved the softeness, the intimacy of this act were you could still be coherent to treasure and worship your other half with receiving and giving pleasure.

"I take you as mine, knowing and loving all of your strengths and faults, just as I offer myself to you as yours with all of my strengths and faults. I will be there for you in your times of need, just as I know I can turn to you when I need a guiding hand."

Tears were slipping past his eyes as he repeated his oath over and over. He had to make her remember just how much he loved her, because if they were going to die, she had to know that she was loved and treasured, and that he would do anything to make thing right once again.

The angry red sky was what greeted them and found them in each other's arms with pounding headaches and disturbed groans. His face was buried in her neck, drawing in her familiar scent, waiting for her wrath to unveil and kick him out. He had stepped over the line last night, they had both been drunk and not clear headed as things went too far. Yet her fingertips drew shaped in his spine and a chill raced in his bones.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was so soft it could have been lost in the mayhem that surrounded them. Five unfurled himself from around her and leaned in his arms staying on top of her, keeping his weight off of her.

"No. Don't do that. I am the one who should be apologizing."

"No... I- look I do not want us to die and still be angry with each other."

"I could never stay angry with you... not for too long at least." He let her startled laugh wash over him and he softly smiled at her as she nuzzled her face on his chest and hugged him close.

"You don't hate me?" She whispered in a defeated voice.

"I could never hate you my love"

words: 1.237

TAGLIST: @js-favnanadoongi @loca4moony @inkedeye2345 @baguettehead @stvrlitsky

#five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves angst #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves angst #five hargreaves smut #five hargreaves fluff

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bobbinlacebliss · 2 years

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Finished project: Rosemary

I was scrolling through my own blog today (as one does) and realized I never did a proper round-up post for Rosemary. So this is a bit of a retrospective I suppose! Click through for my notes on the project if you're interested - otherwise, I hope you like the pictures!

This is certainly one of my favorite pieces that I've done. I think it really turned out beautifully! But, it also stands out in my mind for having a foul, foul, truly foul number of broken threads that had to be replaced in the middle of the work. I think at least 6? The ideal number of course being zero. At the time, this sucked. I had no idea what I was doing - you can see in one of the pictures that I was referencing three different books at one point trying to figure out how the heck to fix the dang things. But in hindsight, it was valuable experience! I got a lot of practice splicing in new threads, and I also stopped being so afraid of it happening. (Though of course one still likes to avoid it...)

I am not sure why so many threads decided to part company with their fellows, but I have some theories. I'm fairly sure it's not because of putting too much tension on the thread, because it didn't snap under pressure so much as just kinda fray and drift apart. My prime suspect is the bobbins - something about this style of bobbin makes it really hard (for me, at least) to prevent them rolling wildly all over the pillow during the work, which runs the risk of untwisting the thread. This is very sad for me because I love these bobbins. But I haven't given up hope that I can still make them work. They seem to roll less on my box pillow, so maybe they can just be reserved for that pillow. Also, I'm on that "it was a bad batch of thread" copium 😅

This was also the first time I tried mounting the finished lace onto fabric, which I was very worried about screwing up but it wound up not being so bad! Sewing is definitely not my strong suit, but I got through it and am pleased with the result.

Technical Notes

Pattern: "Rosemary" from A Visual Introduction to Bucks Point Lace by Geraldine Stott

Thread: Egyptian cotton 80/2 in bright white

Gimps: 8 ply of the base thread

Pins: .5 mm pins for the picots and motifs; .8mm pins for the ground and footside

Picots: 5 twists

Started: September 14, 2020

Completed: August 11, 2021

(If you've made it this far and you somehow haven't heard enough about this project, you can check out the "rosemary" tag on my blog to see my other posts about it.)

#bobbin lace #bucks point #rosemary #finished project

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davidtennantgenderenvy · 9 months

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On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

#David tennant #doctor who #the tenth doctor #the fourteenth doctor #good omens #crowley #shakespeare #around the world in 80 days #phileas fogg #pro aging #growing old

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rxzennia · 5 months

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picky eater

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 leviathan? dog under the table! avvy, won’t you come home in 18 hours 30 minutes? final tribute to you before your release <3

aventurine shows up in your office without knocking, as he often does. you look up from your work, raising a brow – you’ve gotten so used to him doing this that you’ve given up asking him what he wants altogether.

“what, i can’t even visit my own secretary?�� he teases, trotting up to your desk and setting down a delicate bag of… something. “lunch, my dear, lunch. you skipped it again, didn’t you?”

you ignore his pet name for you and stare at the bag, then at him, then back at the bag

it’s quite endearing how he tries to make sure you eat regularly

even though your composition doesn’t quite need you to eat the way other people do

not that you can’t, you just don’t really need to, so you don’t

it’s just less effort for you and more efficiency

but who are you to deny your boss’s goodwill?

“thank you,” you say, giving the entire bag a quick sniff. “the usual?”

“the usual.” he confirms

more like if he gets anything else there’s quite a high chance that you won’t like it

he’s realized that you’re picky as hell

even though you literally eat monsters for fun

okay, maybe not for fun

his point still stands, though

when it comes to your taste buds they’re the most hard to please things ever

it’s okay, someday he’ll find your favorite foods

in the meantime he’ll keep getting you stuff he knows you’ll eat

this information is obtained through trial and error, by the way

read: a lot of trials and a lot of errors. mostly errors

you flash him a small smile under your scarf

he doesn’t miss it; he’s known how to read your expressions by the changes in your eyes now

you set your papers aside and carefully put the few boxes of takeout on your desk

you have limited space on your desk because of the way you set it up

you don’t like big, wide spaces

when you finally pull down your scarf, aventurine’s entire person lights up with joy.

“what?” you ask, because he looks like that every time he sees your face.

“nothing,” aventurine chuckles, “just thinking about how you used to kick me out whenever you had to take off your scarf.”

you look at him from the corner of your eyes, your spoonful of rice half-raised

you are unimpressed

“would you like me to kick you out?” you offer very kindly

so cold

but he knows you’re not actually going to kick him out

still. so cold.

“hey, i brought you food!” he whines

you nod in agreement. “and i said thank you.”

why are you like this

please, as much as he loves these back-and-forths with you, have some mercy

then again the sight of you eating well is really heartwarming

plus the fact that he’s the one who's treating you

worth it 10/10

you’re using utensils like everyone else, but somehow you still eat really quickly?

what in the sorcery

you finish the contents in the boxes that smell familiar

the trustworthy boxes™

and that leaves you with… one delicate little box

it smells… ominous. like a crime against your tongue.

you look at aventurine with doubt in your eyes. what is he trying to feed you this time?

“cake,” he says, “i asked around for the best cafe in town.”

“you asked topaz.” you slowly take off the ribbon and open the box.

ouch, must you be so truthful?

because who else is he supposed to go to for these things?

it’s not like he can just ask anyone!

and he really wants to know your preference towards sweet things

you’ll eat very, very lightly sweetened things

but what about proper dessert?

you’re gentle towards the box; you’re staring at the canary-shaped cake

more examining than staring, actually

seems like you appreciate intricately decorated things

he’s making a mental list of things you like and don’t like

even though you’re not very cooperative with him on this

c’mon, he wants to know everything about you! he wants to treat you right! let him!!!

(you do not know of the existence of such a list)

you pick up the mini cake and sniff it

pokes it with your tongue when you think it passes your sniff test

sweet, but nothing too bad so far

time to take it further

you try a tiny bite in the corner

your senses get assaulted by sugar, if that even makes sense

no. 0/10 would not recommend.

but you keep your face blank so as to not be blatantly obvious

“hmm.” you set the pastry down on your desk like you’re deep in thought.

“how is it? you like it?” aventurine awaits your answer eagerly, watching you closely. a little too closely, to be honest.

“please do not ever visit that store for cakes again.” you say, getting a spoonful of the unbitten side and offering it to your boss. “mm.”

you’re telling him to try it?

the way you’re asking is so adorable

not even words, just a little hum and a small wave of the spoon

he does have a try of the cake

and have you feed him while he’s at it

very happy right now

would be better if the cake wasn’t sugared like it’s a day’s calories concentrate

he understands your response now

trying his best to not cringe

also knows to never ask topaz for dessert recommendations again

“if you don’t like it, let’s just toss it out,” he suggests, because he wouldn’t be able to stomach that either

you got this from him

territorial snake moment when he tries to take it from your hands

you hiss

jumpscare, he did not expect that

also oddly happy that you’re protective of the stuff he gives you

also concerned

“you’re not going to force yourself to eat that, are you…?”

“what are you saying, of course not,” you say, setting the barely-eaten canary cake on your desk all the while keeping aventurine’s hands away from it.

then your scarf comes and swallows the thing in one gulp.

what.

“it…” aventurine points a shaky finger at the white fabric that morphed into a faceless serpent’s head at the ends. “it ate it? just like that?”

“if it can swallow monsters whole, it can eat an overly sweet cake.” you shrug, finally wiping your mouth and pulling your scarf back up.

aventurine’s jaw would be on the floor if it was physically possible. unfortunately, it isn’t. “i thought you could still taste when your scarf eats things?”

“monsters.” you reply, patting your scarf as it settles into a regular piece of cloth again, “it tastes monsters. not food.”

so that's how you managed to finish even the things you absolutely hate? by having your scarf eat it?

aeons, there’s still so much he has yet to learn about you, isn't there?

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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calist4r · 3 months

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The many acts of nanami

How he shows his love

A/n: First non smau post!! I hope you guys just enjoy some short nanami fluff :p because why not and I love him so. Also not proofread so sorry if there’s any mistakes ^^

Act I:

First and foremost I think that something that most people can agree on is that Nanami loves you call you his wife. Even if you guys aren’t married he still calls you that. It doesn’t fail to make you giddy every time he says it. He knows the affect it has on you too, chuckling softly as he continues the previous conversation. For example, when you guys go out to eat at a restaurant it’s always “and my wife would like this one please.” “apologies but my wife didn’t order this one.” If somehow you got brought up in a conversation with his coworkers or an acquaintance of his he never uses your name, not out of disrespect or anything like that. He just loves to see the way they react when he refers to you as his wife.

“Sorry guys (he’s not sorry), my wife said I need to be home by 10 so no going out for me.”

“Whaaaat? I never knew Nanami had a girlfriend, much less a whole wife!?!”

Act II:

Nanami will be the type of man to always make sure you’ve eaten and have been properly fed. No missed meals on his watch!! If you have a certain craving he will make sure to make time so he can take you out to some restaurant or maybe just a cozy little cafe. The whole way there you’re chatting his ear off about how excited you were to finally try this new food item you were craving. Let’s just say not all things go as planned because the second your food came out, it was nasty as hell. You still decided to try and eat it though so you wouldn’t seem ungrateful or anything. But Nanami noticed how you seemed to be picking over the food. He raises his eyebrows before reaching over and taking your plate to switch with his, and before you could even protest he shakes his head. “Don’t worry you can have mine, I don’t want you to go hungry because the food isn’t to your liking.” So he eats the whole meal even if it’s the grossest thing he’s ever had. Every last bite. And you’re just sitting there stunned because what person would put themselves through that? Nanami will.

He will text you every morning asking if you’ve eaten. If you haven’t and he doesn’t have time to come over he’ll get your favorite breakfast delivered to your house, along with flowers cause why not? Nanami loves to cook for you, you won’t even need to lift a finger in the kitchen. He always plans out the meals beforehand as well. He likes grocery shopping with you but sometimes you love to pick out the bad ingredients, so he always has to switch them out with the healthier option. I know I said you don’t have to lift a finger but if you beg really hard with those cute eyes of yours he might let you be his sous chef. He may act annoyed but honestly he thinks the food tastes better when you make it together.

Act III:

He is always concerned for your safety and comfort. Do you guys know the sidewalk rule? Yeah Nanami definitely is an advocate for that. He doesn’t let you walk for a millisecond before pulling you on the opposite side. “Be careful. Let me walk on this side.” When you guys are going out together for a night out and for example let’s say it’s really cold out and you’re not dressed for the weather. That man is stopping you before you have the chance to leave the room. “You should put on a jacket, it’s really cold outside honey.” He even goes and gets your jacket, helping you put it on and zipping/buttoning it up. He doesn’t forget to seal it off with a kiss of course. Let’s say you guys don’t live together yet and you two went out for a date. Nanami will always wait until you reach the door and safety get inside your home before even thinking about driving off. Nanami the type of guy to get you out of a uncomfortable situation just by merely walking up and staring at whoever was bothering you at the time, guiding you away with a palm at the small of your back.

Act IV:

He listens to whatever you’re talking about. Most times it may not seem like he’s paying attention since he’s usually reading a book while you ramble about something that has interests you lately. He loves the way your eyes light up and the way your hands move when you tell a story. It doesn’t matter when or what he’s doing just know he’s always listening. He won’t ever admit it but his most favourite thing is when you tell him your workplace drama as you’re getting ready for sleep. He will hand you things as you ramble on about how Patrick from HQ was being a total ass to Sally.

“Oh honey did he really say that? He’s a piece of shit honestly, not a real man.” Nanami shakes his head as he hands you your toothbrush.

“Seriously I know! I don’t see how he hasn’t gotten fired yet. Oh Kento I need-“

“Your cleanser? I know I got it right here.”

He continues to help you throughout your whole night routine, only butting in when he felt it was necessary. It’s the little things that matter with Nanami. He’s never too busy for you, ever. When you get into some new hobby and you’re telling him about all the things you’ve learned about it, he mentally notes down things he wants to buy for you. So when you come home from work one day surrounded by a couple of cook books and new baking materials don’t be surprised. The better part of the surprise is Nanami walking out the kitchen wearing a cupcake apron as he greets you, causing you to burst out laughing.

“What? Don’t I look handsome darling? Been preparing the recipe for us to bake together.”

“Oh Ken you do look handsome baby. I didn’t even know you were listening when I was talking about how much I wanted to bake together.”

“I’m always listening honey, now cmon I got us matching aprons.”

Thank youuu if you read this hehe :3 Sorry it’s so short just testing things 🙏 I am very open to feedback or any type of requests

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capsi-cuminme · 12 days

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Closer, Closest

summary: in which you've just joined the x-men, but land up in a situation where you're forced to get very close with logan.

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mild swearing, suggestiveness, smooching omg

author's note: This is my first ever logan fic, and my first overall full-length fic after a loooong time, so it'll probably be a bit botchy, but I hope y'all enjoy the self-indulgent logan content.

•──✦──•

Logan was not in the mood for surprises, or uncomfortable change. He’d had enough of very major, very uncomfortable changes in the past month or so - changing history wasn’t easy. So imagine his distaste when he got to the mansion after a seemingly easy mission the kids somehow managed to mess up, and instead of Jean, there was someone else that’s supposed to treat him - you.

A new recruit, he guessed. Brows furrowed, face covered with a cheap surgical mask, but eyes full of wonder, you were doing this and that to Logan’s few, easily-healable injuries, attempting to fix them. Your fingers were nimble, and shockingly not ticklish at all. He wondered if you knew you didn’t need to do half of what you were doing, considering the speeds at which Logan’s body tended to heal itself. Had Charles not told you? Well, whatever. He was too occupied with his cigar to want to speak anyways, so he waited. Waited and waited and kept on waiting for what seemed like forever but you weren’t letting up.

“Bub, are you creating new injuries to treat? I know sure as hell that it doesn’t take that long to look at any wounds on my body,” he grumbled, sparing you a glance as you continued to do whatever the hell you were doing, paying no mind to him or his questions. Your eyes were focused as they flitted around, jumping from one spot on his arm to another on his wrist to a third on his neck. It caught him off-guard, a tiny bit, the blatant indifference you displayed - as if he wasn’t an adult whose body you were tampering with, but a child who had to be dealt with. He didn’t really like it. Nonetheless, he decided not to do anything. It was better to pass time on the bed and smoke peacefully rather than have to teach children History that he could barely remember.

Mind made up, he closed his eyes in relief, mentally applauding himself for successfully coming up with a reason to get out of class. When he opened them again, you were gone.

So was all the strength in his body.

. . . . .

“So, what did you think? Was healing him of any help to you?” asked Charles, smiling in the controlled, calm way he usually did.

You shook your head, “Not really, no, because I didn’t really heal him, you know?”

“Of course, you didn’t heal him; Logan’s body is capable enough to do that on its own means. What I mean to ask is, was he any different? Were you able to access his energy or were you unsuccessful?”

“Semi-successful would be the word, professor,” you grimaced. Taking the cup of tea he offered, you continued, “I was really not able to make any sort of progress when he was awake, so when he rested himself, I decided to drain him out comple -”

You were interrupted by the sudden bang of a door opening. As you turned around, you saw Logan standing in the doorway in all his muscled glory. God, it’d been so difficult to focus on extracting his energy and not ogle all the time he was there - being able to treat the Wolverine, being able to touch him, it was no less than a dream. Honestly speaking, half the reason you weren’t able to carry out energy identification and extraction easily was because of how distracted you were, how nervous. His muscles felt like God herself had carved them out of her best and favorite materials, while the intensity of his gaze seemed like fire itself burned inside them.

Your lust-filled train of thought was broken by Charles’s voice as he addressed the man you were dreaming about. As you turned to him, you realized that Logan was glaring at you, excellently conveying his lack of desire to be dreamt about. “Hello, Logan. How are you?”

“Who the hell is this, Charles? Why was she downstairs instead of Jean, and why the fuck did I feel like a dead body after she left?”

Oh.

Dream shattered.

You stood up hesitantly, nibbling on the inside of your right cheek, glancing at Charles for help. He didn’t return your look, simply straightening himself a little bit and then saying, “Logan, this is Vitality. She’s a new recruit, and will be helping around the mansion for some time before she’s ready to go on missions.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, lips pulled back in a sneer as he observed you. You felt practically naked under his gaze, and not in the good way; it was the kind of naked where there’s goosebumps on your skin right as you’re about to step into a shower of extremely cold water in a comparably cold temperature.

“Whatever she might be here for and whoever she might be, I couldn’t give less of a damn. I just want one answer – why did I feel so… so -” “So drained out?” you sheepishly suggested, noting his struggle to find the correct words. He didn’t look like he appreciated it, but nodded to the affirmative anyways. “Well, that’s because, as my name suggests, I deal with energy – any and all forms of energy, except what is found in living beings.”

“So what were you doing to me?”

You found yourself cringing at his words. “I wasn’t doing anything to you, Mr Logan, sir, I was experimenting with your energy. Remember how I said I deal with all energy except that of living beings? That’s because I can’t control my abilities well enough to not hurt living being if I tamper with their energy.” You stopped. You didn’t know how to continue explaining without possibly offending him.

“So, Logan,” picked up Charles, “since you’re someone who is beyond the risk of death, I asked her to try controlling your energy. It was supposed to be easier, more… convenient.”

Logan’s face had relaxed a bit, but he still looked confused and glanced at you for further explanation.

“Yeah well, in short, you don’t die and recover quickly and also have a lot of energy so you were the ideal candidate for me to practice on, but unfortunately I failed and ended up draining out all your physical energy for a short period of time,” you finished with a sorry expression your face, silently apologising.

“Why didn’t you tell me, professor?”

“Simply because you’d have spent more time asking where Jean is than actually helping in the experiment. Now,” he said, with an air of finality and dismissal, “if you’ll please leave, so that we can continue our conversation.”

You silently thanked the professor, moving to sit back down. Yeah, you had, like, a bit of a celebrity crush on him or whatever. So what? He was still intimidating and made you want to run out of the room (not before staring at him a little more). As you turned back to the professor, you were grateful the interaction with the legendary mutant was over, but you were also curious about something. Something that’d been mentioned throughout the conversation two to three times, and you felt like you’d already had enough of hearing.

Who the hell was - “Jean. Where is she though, professor? Haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

You swallowed, taken aback a little bit. Someone seemed to care about this Jean a lot. No one had told you the Wolverine had his heart set on some woman whose face you don’t even know.

Well, whatever.

“Jean’s on a mission with Scott. Now if you’ll excuse us, Logan?”

The aforementioned man grumbled something, then left after a quick, “Right, sorry.”

“I think we can resume our conversation now, no?” asked Charles, sipping a cup of tea, looking at you with a smile. Right as you started to nod, he said, “And oh, don’t worry – you’ll meet soon enough.”

Oh God, he can read thoughts. How stupid can you be?

Your embarrassment was only damped down by the mischievous twinkle in Charles’s eye and his swiftness to steer the topic of the conversation back to what it was.

. . . . .

It had been a month since you were here. A month filled with practicing extraction and infusion of energy relentlessly, all while trying to make at least a few bare-minimum acquaintances with your colleagues and the children you’re supposed to teach.

In some fields, you’d been making progress. Under Charles’s skilled eye, your abilities were sharpening quickly. Storm’s powers were similar to yours, so she would sometimes come and keep you company, sparring, chatting, lingering around. She was fun to be with – a good leader, but an even better friend. She was just the person you needed at this infantile stage of your journey to become an X-man. (X-woman? Whatever.) You’d even started teaching some of the younger kids, and they all seemed to be liking you, more or less.

There was also the not-great part.

Namely, Jean and Logan.

See, you knew you hadn’t started off on the best foot with Logan, seeing how you’d non-consensually (accidentally) drained him of his body’s physical energy for like ten or fifteen minutes, and so obviously it’d take some time for him to grow comfortable around you. Fair enough.

What wasn’t fair, on the other hand, was the fact that Logan was either in his room, or on missions, or teaching, or with Jean. Not-single, in-a-relationship-with-Scott, Jean. (Yes, you had noticed they were dating thank you very much.)

The person whose energy you were physically unable to be around, that Jean.

It seemed a cruel trick by fate.

You’d had a crush on him since forever, ever since you’d first seen him protecting kids on the news, and it wasn’t as if you wanted to fuck him or anything, no! (Although you wouldn’t be opposed to that.) But would it be wrong to want to be at least on talking terms with him? Apparently, yes. So you decided to just suck it up and carry on with your work. That’s what you were here for, that’s what you’d do; to hell with anyone who was a distraction to you.

. . . . .

Holy shit, working with these people was so difficult. It wasn’t the constant fights waiting to happen or powers waiting to erupt. It wasn’t even the fact that all this newfound energy around you, all the damn time, unsettled you heavily. No, you could get used to that.

It was their utter refusal to cooperate that was posing to be a bit of an issue.

You had asked Charles to lend you, for lack of better terms, a few mutants different to each other in terms of their abilities, so that you could practice.

So you had in front of you, the entire team – how were you supposed to not die of nervousness?

“Alright then, shall we begin? Any of you can step up first, whoever’s more comfortable,” Charles remarked quietly, observing from the sidelines the slight tremor in your arms and legs, coupled with the apprehension visible on the team’s faces. It’s a given, of course, the existence of the overall tone of nervousness. The team doesn’t know you too well, hasn’t known you for long, not even Storm.

You nod in response to Charles, signalling that you’re ready. For a beat or two, no one comes up. You stare at them, waiting; the moment you think Storm might step up, Logan strides forward and seats himself on the chair in front of you. You blink at him a couple times, not really expecting him to come up and offer himself for – for lack of a better word - experimentation so calmly when only a while ago he’d had a bad experience regarding the same thing?

Oh, well. It was a good thing, all things considered. You got someone to practice on, and it just so happened to be the person you’ve had the meanest fattest crush on forever. Works out perfectly.

So, on Charles’s cue and under the watchful eyes of all the X-men, “Logan, please close your eyes for a little bit.” As soon as he did, you started. You weren’t really trying to extract or infuse copious amounts of energy, just weeding out the bits of excessive power, that’s all.

But even though it seemed a small task, it had rendered you on your knees in only a few minutes, because a) energy extraction in living, sentient beings was not easy, b) it had only been your first or second time trying it and you were being extra careful, and c) Jean’s energy, constantly at odds with her own self, was distracting you more than you’d like. And you were concentrating, really, you were, but Kitty, apparently, was not, as she fell through the roof and on to the ground a couple of feet away from you. Her fall distracted all your momentarily built focus onto her instead, as you lost the thread of energy you had been constantly pulling out. The thread turned into a pool of energy before you realised.

You looked up into Logan’s eyes – yours were probably more fearful than his, but you still tried to give him some sort of reassurance. You could observe how quickly you were sucking up his energy; his skin was paling in an unnatural way, eyes drooping, but you didn’t know what to do. You’d learnt how to extract, infuse, and return the energy back. You couldn’t just skip the middle step, you didn’t know how. As you were scrambling to figure out a solution, a voice rang out in your head.

“Calm down. Think. The solution is what comes naturally.”

Naturally? What comes naturally?

Oh, right – your own energy. You could just infuse his energy with the tiniest bit of yours, and it’d work (most probably), so that’s what you did. You kept infusing and returning and repeating, but the amount of energy that had pooled out was so much that you were practically a cadaver by the time you were done sending it back.

“Are you okay?” you questioned softly, looking into the eyes of the man seated before you. You couldn’t muster your voice to be louder, so you hoped that your whispers and desperation were enough to convey to Logan what you were asking.

Tilting his head just a bit, he nodded, looking increasingly renewed and full of energy. You breathed a sigh of relief, finally stopping the influx of energy into his body and standing up.

The task had taken an unprecedented toll on you, what with the unexpected amount of work. So of course, the blood seeping out of your nose and ears wasn’t a surprise, nor was you fainting, unceremoniously falling to the ground right as a pair of arms gripped you.

. . . . .

When you woke up, you could make out several things right off the bat, without even fully coming to your senses - there were bunched up sheets digging into your back as your throat felt parched and scratchy. Needles pricked into your hands, slowly supplying glucose into your system, drip-by-drip. The air conditioning was making an unruly amount of noise. In the corner of the room, Logan sat on a stool, watching you with keen but tired eyes.

“You finally up, Bub?”

It took you a second to register he was speaking to you. The movement of his lips seemed a bit unfamiliar. “Uh, y-yes. I’m up now. Awake.”

“You feel fine now? Because you definitely don’t look the part,” he asked-or-said with the slightest smirk. At your consequent nod, he continued. “You looked the spitting image of a dead body when you fainted, ya’know? Had all of us scared, me especially, considering your decision to give me your energy or whatever.”

You tilt your head, confused. How did he know? “Did the professor tell you?”

“Damn right he did,” he drawled, getting up from the stool and walking to your bed.

You wished the slight increase in heart rate would go unnoticed. Just because you weren’t fully able to register your surroundings and connect the dots of what might’ve happened when you fainted, didn’t mean that you were also unable to register the veins in his arms as he folded them over his chest. God, that damn wifebeater of his -

“Hey, you alright?” As your eyes lifted up from his chest and arms to his face, you realised he looked sort of concerned. For you.

“Uh-huh. I’m good.” He nodded to himself, “Alright then. I’ll go tell the professor that you’ve woken up. You take some rest, okay? Don’t move from here.” With a quick dip of his chin, he turned, walking to the exit. Right as he was about to reach, you called out for him.

“Hey, Logan? Thanks for being here and keeping an eye on me.”

“Wasn’t even here that long, but don’t mention it.” You were sure you saw the ghost of a smile on his face before he left.

You were also certain that the sudden increase in heart rate did not go unnoticed by him, heightened senses and all. You hid your face in your palms, screaming silently.

. . . . .

After that day, things with Logan improved, however slight the improvement may have been. You’d gotten into a habit of greeting each other if you crossed each other in the halls and corridors, and if, by chance, both of you ended up at the breakfast table together then you’d have breakfast together too.

Did you still absolutely lose your mind over him whenever you saw him walking around wearing literally whatever? Yes. But there was also a sense of newfound respect you developed for him as you watched him work and train students. You and he often had to substitute classes, so you’d understood his manner of work and training. As rough around the edges as he seemed, he was still a very soft-hearted person, never going overboard on any of the children and apologizing immediately if he thought he did.

You were learning loads while working with him, and had to thank Professor X for that. So imagine your surprise when Charles called you into his office one day, and said “Congratulations, Vitality. You’re ready for your first mission, on which Logan will be accompanying you. He and Storm already know what is to be done, they’ll brief you. Now if you don’t mind, I have a class to take.” And with those words and a tiny smile, Charles sent you out of his office to embark on your first mission.

Your first mission, with Logan.

Oh God. You could absolutely scream.

Was this some kind of joke? How the fuck were you supposed to carry out such a nerve-wracking task with the most gorgeous man on the planet? Yeah you’d grown sort of comfortable around him, but not if you two were supposed to go to some remote place alone on the jet.

“Vitality?”

You turned as Storm called you, Logan lazily walking right behind her. “Yes, what is it?”

“Did Charles inform you of the mission?” “Yes he did, but I don’t really know the details.”

“It’s alright,” she assured, “just get ready to board the plane, Logan will explain everything to you on the way.”

. . . . .

The mission was simple. No fighting, just stealing. You had to go to some abandoned factory and take five vials of green-colored serum out of lots of multi-colored vials of serum. You’d asked what the serum was for, but Logan didn’t seem to know the answer himself, so you decided to drop it.

As you sat in your seat, belted in and anxious, you watched Logan. He was sitting beside you, curiously looking at the jet’s controls the same way a baby regards new toys. It was kind of cute. And also very distracting, because Logan looked very good in his uniform; you hadn’t ever seen him wear it before this, so seeing him in it was doing things to you.

“Have I got something on my face?”

You flinched, surprised at being called out. Refocusing your gaze, you were met with Logan looking at you with a crooked half-smile. “You were staring pretty hard there. Do I look that good in the uniform?”

You resisted the urge to maniacally nod your head and instead settled for a meek apology. “S-sorry,” you squeaked out, more breathlessly than you’d like.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. Just didn’t think you’d be into old men like me, is all,” he remarked gruffly.

“Old?”

“Yes bub, old. ‘Ve been around for a good couple of centuries.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. Sure, he aged slowly, but 200 years? You never knew. Before you could continue the conversation, the jet landed in the middle of the clearing.

Both of you silently made your way inside the factory, no words exchanged, just vigilant gazes keeping check of everything around you. But even though there was no threat - nothing tangible, at least - you felt on edge. You were sensing a mixture of otherworldly and downright disturbing energies from various places within the factory, so when you finally reached the room with the vials, you couldn’t have been more thankful.

With a silent look of understanding, Logan went in and retrieved the box containing the vials you needed. Mission complete.

But as you guys were walking out, you bumped into one of the racks and another vial - deep purple - fell and broke right onto your shoulder. Logan turned to you with alarmed eyes. “What the hell? You’re not hurt, are you? Does it burn or something?” You quelled his worries and insisted to keep moving. After all, it didn’t burn your skin, nor did it harm you in any physically visible way, and it was an obvious assumption that the leak of energy from your body could be addressed in the jet.

Unfortunately, you were incorrect. Despite going to the jet even faster than you guys had made it out, significant amounts of energy had started seeping out of you.

Gasping, you said, “The serum probably had something to do with capability retention, that- that’s why I’m not able to maintain control.” You plonked down onto the jet’s floor, uncaring of the way the machinery around you rattled.

Logan hurried to you, cradling your head and making you look him in the eyes. “What d’ya need, bub, huh? Tell me, tell me.” “Energy.”

He frowned deeply, confused. “Energy? Yours?”

Your eyes had begun rolling to the back of your head; you were about to pass out. Shaking your head aggressively, you clarified, “No, no, just- any energy works.”

Logan couldn’t understand. How was he supposed to give you energy, when yours was slipping away so fast? His lack of comprehension was annoying you. You whined, pulling him closer, hugging him completely.

Skin-to-skin contact, the best way to get energy.

As you basically situated yourself in his lap and hugged him like a koala in an attempt to gain back some kind of energy, your half-coherent brain could not register the rigidity of Logan’s body for the first couple of seconds, instead misinterpreting it as refusal to help.

“Logan, please, I need you,” you borderline sobbed, shifting in his lap to make yourself comfortable, nuzzling yourself in your neck.

“W-wait a second,” Logan said shortly, trying to comprehend what was happening. He could see that the energy leaks were decreasing, but God. This was uncomfortable in ways that weren’t exactly bad; it plagued him with guilt.

Oblivious to the workings of his mind and delirious due to the serum, you grabbed onto his arms, wrapping them around your waist, trying to get even closer. Tsk-ing, “Why can’t I get close enough?”

“Darlin’,” Logan mumbled, voice a couple of octaves lower and blood rushing south, “calm down. ‘M right here, you’ll be j’s fine, promise.” He rubbed soothing circles into your back, attempting to placate your restlessness.

You lifted your face from the scruffiness of his neck, pouting as you looked up into his eyes. “Please Logan, this isn’t enough.” And God, he could not resist that face and that expression and that goddamned voice of yours, dripping with sticky-sweet honey and whining. So like any sane man, he did the only thing he could to get you both closer.

He grabbed a hold of your jaw semi-gently, making you look up at him. Once your eyes were finally focused enough, he leaned up to press his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t exactly supposed to be chaste, but with the speed you opened your mouth and demanded entry into his with your tongue caught him just a tiny bit off-guard.

He pulled back, watching you gasp for air. “This close enough for you?”

You shook your head, shifting yourself further and attaching your mouth to his, determined to get the closest you could.

. . . . .

As you once again regained your senses on the infirmary bed, you could make out several things right off the bat - there were bunched up sheets digging into your back as your throat felt parched and scratchy. Needles pricked into your hands, slowly supplying glucose into your system, drip-by-drip. The air conditioning was still making an unruly amount of noise.

And of course, in the corner of the room, Logan sat on a stool, watching you with keen eyes. “You alright there, darlin’?”

You gulped, your throat feeling like the Sahara desert was in there. You’d damn well have spontaneously combusted hearing him call you ‘darling’, only you hadn’t forgotten what you’d done in the jet a couple days ago.

“I-I’m good, Logan. Are you okay?”

He smiled. “Never been better.”

You exhaled shortly. “Good, tha-that’s great.”

“Sure is.”

You tried to breathe quietly. You felt you breathed too loud. Especially in a room with Logan.

You were nervous.

“You like Italian?”

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Logan, fiddling with his jeans pocket. Cute. “Sorry?”

“D’you like Italian, bub?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Great. Wanna try that new Italian place in the city? Scott wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Sure, yes. I’d love to,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your smile.

“Right. It’s a date then, love.”

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therealcocoshady · 1 month

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POV : You’re Marshall Mathers’s girlfriend and he worships you

Author’s Note : Hi guys ✨. I feel like it’s been a while since I last published something on here. Enjoy this little blurb I wrote. It’s kind of random but I think it’s kind of cute still 💕.

Marshall Mathers doesn’t really enjoy being treated like a king wherever he goes. He knows people give him special treatment out of respect, because he is a huge fucking superstar, but he doesn’t really care for it. He’s just a normal dude at heart, you know ? He likes it when things are kept simple. He’s not a huge fan of the deference, of people practically bowing and curtsying to him because he is Eminem. It’s weird.

But when it comes to you ? People better treat you like the absolute monarch that you are. This man will not accept anything less for the woman he loves. You are his sun. His days start and end with you. You are a deity he worships day and night and people better put some respect on his lady’s name.

He is not giving you the princess treatment. No. This would be good enough for any peasant. If he could, this man would build altars and monuments for you. You are his religion. Your birthday and the anniversary of your first date are holidays he refuse to work on. Doesn’t matter if he’s offered hundreds of thousands of dollars for a ten minutes performance, he simply refuses to be away from you on those days. And if you so much as utter an « I need you », this man will drop absolutely everything. He’s done it in the past and he absolutely has no regrets about flying for five hours on a day off from tour to be able to surprise you at work after you mentioned it was « so hard being away » from him. He is usually mindful about climate change but for you, this man will turn into Taylor « taking my jet for a ten minutes flight » Swift. He literally doesn’t care about the world burning as long as there is a smile on your face. Marshall is not a big spender but for you, he doesn’t care about numbers. His goddess deserves the very best and, thank God for that merch money, he is able to give it to you. He’s not a diva but he demands the very best for you. He couldn’t care less about the water brought to him in his dressing room before a performance. But he makes sure it’s your favorite brand. Same for snacks. If he has to fly someone to another country to get something for you, he absolutely will. In his mind, it’s the least he can do for the woman who blesses him with her presence. He is almost offended when someone fails to greet you properly and he absolutely is when someone straight up disrespects you. If he could, he would fight duels in your honor. Somehow, you managed to turn this stoic individual in the utmost gentleman. When he’s by your side, you will never be caught walking on the wrong side of the pavement, having to hold your own bags. He’d rather die than have that. But you’ll never be caught. Because he protects you like you’re the most precious treasure there is. He’s never caught in your presence, because he doesn’t want to have you plagued by the media and harassed by fans and, yet, he manages to show you off. In private, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s head over heels with you. Your name is on his lips constantly, and the way he talks about you shows just how devoted he is. At first, people close to him got a little worried. Who were you ? What were your intentions ? It seemed like you were out of nowhere. Walked into Marshall’s life one day and, from then on, he was addicted. They had every reason to be suspicious. And then, they met you. And they understood. They got to witness the genuineness of your interactions, how your eyes mirrored Marshall’s devotion, the way he leaned into your touch so naturally and just how you seemed to heal the parts of him that had been left raw. For the first time in forever, they saw him at peace. Not merely content. Happy. They expected to hate you, because what kind of high maintenance brat has the most stoic man they ever knew act like a puppy ? Only, they couldn’t. It wasn’t quite clear how things worked out between you and Marshall and, in hindsight, it was none of their business. But they couldn’t hate you when it was clear as day that « Em » as most call him, had finally found a safe space. So you won them over as well, and they gave you the princess treatment.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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trendywaifus · 10 days

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2024 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL MASTERLIST

❝ WHAT’S YOUR SCARY MOVIE? ❞

WARNINGS — DARK THEMES, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ATTEMPT OF SELF INJURY, DEATH, BLOOD, CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR, INJURY, YANDERE THEMES, DUBCON, PURITY LOSS, CREAMPIE, ORAL FIXATION, VAGINAL PENETRATION, SIZE KINK, CUM–EATING, FINGERING, CUNNILINGUS, UNPROTECTED SEX

04 |SCREAMPIED ! — transfem! ghostface! feixiao x fem! reader. there seems to be a second serial killer who has their eyes on you. but it seems like they came for you for a different reason. will they be a failure like the last one was? (10/6) continuation of — i’m like the wind baby !

preview ↳ you angrily picked up your phone for the third time in two hours, draping the towel over your shoulder as you sat down on the sofa. “ this is the third fucking time you called my damn phone, “ you shouted, pausing some cheesy horror movie that you forgot was on while taking a quick shower, “ take a hike you fuckin’ bum! don’t ask me about what my damn favorite scary movie is because i don’t have one! the last one was somehow less annoying than you are! “

there’s a small pause from the other side along with consistent, wet noises of skin slapping against skin. “ . . .fuck, “ the husky voice lets out a strained groan and laughs breathily, “ keep talking, i’m almost finished. mm, you sound so fucking hot when you’re upset, doll face.”

“ what the fuck? are you getting off from my voice, you damn weirdo? fuck off. “

05 |NATURAL PREDATOR ! — serial killer! jane doe x fem! reader. she craves you and the normalcy you bring into her life. it wouldn’t hurt to preserve it by keeping you in her home. don’t worry, she won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt her. rats aren’t natural predators after all, right? (10/19)

preview ↳ you swat the chinese food aside in frustration, jumping up from your seat, and glared at your unamused kidnapper sitting on the other side of the table. “ is this some sick game to you? chasing, kidnapping me—taking me away from my life to satisfy yours? “ you hiccuped, tears swelling in your eyes. “ and why in the actual fuck do you think it’s okay to make me sit down with you and eat some takeout food after you’ve been gone all day? what, you expect me to “gossip” with you after all the shit you’ve done to me? “

hurt flash in her teal eyes before she sighs heavily. “ do we seriously have to keep coming back to that? i understand that you’re upset but you’ll get use to this, to me soon enough. i know that i haven’t been here lately and i’m sorry. i’ll do my best to come home to you as early as i can. here, “ she says apologetically, handing you a napkin across the table with the pointed end of her tail, “ please, sit down, wipe your tears, and eat your food, my dear. unless, you prefer for me to do all of them for you? “ there’s something dark lurking behind her voice as it lowers an octave. a shiver runs down your spine at the hooded look in her narrowed eyes.

06 |ADAM & EVE ! — yandere! robin x gn! reader. all she wanted was to save her brother. even if it meant taking a bite from the forbidden fruit, stripping her away from reason, her purity—what makes her robin; an internal separation from who she used to be. ( 10/25)

preview ↳ robin straddles your lap, her darkened emerald eyes pools into yours, lulling you deeper into a trance-like state. your body feels relaxed and heavy, bones softening like malleable metal. the halovian woman lean close to you with a sickeningly sweet smile on her pale features as she brings the bitten apple to your bruised lips. there’s voices—hushed whispers ringing in your head, commanding you to take a bite of the apple. you don’t fight them back, you can’t. lust, euphoria and her hypnotic tune clouds your judgement.

you bite into the apple and sink further into the abyss, along with the shell of a woman who used to be great.

07 (BONUS?)| WUTIWANT ! — jason! transfem! acheron x fem! reader. i don’t know what i want but i know it’s not this. these words mean nothing once they’ve left my lips. (10/31)

preview ↳ ???

#trendy #halloween 2024 masterlist #jane doe x reader zzz #feixiao x reader #robin x reader hsr #acheron x reader #zzz women x reader #honkai star rail women x reader

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guiltyasdave · 2 months

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say you'll see me again

epilogue • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: 789 (it's a smol one)

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics (in the past), daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, angst, but also... nice things :)

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, i love you <3

this is me officially saying goodbye to these two babies and i'm extremely emotional about it. i loooooved writing this story, it has brought me so much joy, it's my favorite thing that i've created and they really mean the world to me.

this story has received so much love and i'm beyond grateful for everyone who has read, liked, commented or reblogged <3 i hope you like this ending as much as i do.

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

No one’s there to cheer you on at your graduation ceremony, no one to sit in the audience and clap when your name is being called and you walk across the stage. You didn’t invite anyone.

A small part of you, the part that still feels like the 12 year old girl who thought that her father would love her if she only tried hard enough, had hoped that somehow he would know anyway. Would show up to surprise you.

It’s less of a surprise that he didn’t.

When you accept the certificate with your name on it, it gives you a grim sense of satisfaction. You’ve done it on your own. On your own terms, with your own money.

Your father had all but thrown you out of the house after seeing you leave on the security camera footage mere hours after he’d declared that you were grounded. It’s been a challenge, adjusting to the lack of his financial aid, getting by entirely on your own. It also felt like freedom, like you were finally able to breathe.

You swallow down the bitterness that stings in your chest and rises up your throat when you watch your classmates, your friends, surrounded by their families. Proud smiles, hands on shoulders, long hugs. Fueling a longing that’s been there for as long as you can remember. It wouldn’t have been like that with your father anyway.

You’re better off like this, with the person who, despite his insistent claims, is the one who actually brought you to this moment: Yourself.

The buildings of the town you were raised in are surrounding you, a familiar backdrop as you make your way down the street. You don’t know why you felt the need to come here. Maybe you had to visit one last time, after leaving in a panicked rush, too hurt to dare to look back. Maybe you can say goodbye now, and your mind will stop torturing you with questions of what could have been, daydreams of scenarios that you wished had turned out differently. Maybe you can clear out the remains of the battlefield that it turned into, and finally make peace with it.

You had wished to be able to hate David. Hate him for not wanting you, hate him for pushing you away. Hate him for the way he changed you, for showing you a connection that you haven’t been able to feel with anyone else. But you never could.

It’s not hard to understand in hindsight, why making you leave seemed like the right thing to do for him. Looking back, you think that it actually was. Though that never made losing him hurt any less.

If anything, you wish you could hate him because the fact that he did the right thing makes you want him more.

The door shuts behind you and your eyes adjust to the dim light of the bar. Your shoes are sticky against the ground. It’s a far cry from the country club you used to go to. But you’re also a far cry from the girl who used to go there. No black little designer dress on your body, no expensive heels clicking against the floor. And no fear. No fear of being ignored, no fear of being talked down to, no fear of having to make yourself small.

You’re free to be yourself, now.

You walk towards the counter, hop up on one of the stools. It scratches against the wooden floor, mixing with the faint sound of rock music playing from a speaker in the corner.

There’s movement beside you, the silhouette of a man caught in the corner of your eye. The drum of his fingertips against the counter.

“Evening.”

The wave of a memory builds up in your mind within moments, flooding your every thought. The smooth rumble of his voice. The shape of his face when you turn towards him. The strong nose, the hard line of his jaw, the permanent pout on his lips that you can still feel against yours when you try really hard to remember. The deep brown shade of his eyes that still means safety to you.

When thinking about him, you had always pictured him somewhere new, somewhere you couldn’t reach him. It seems silly, now that he’s right here, like a piece falling into place. Of course he’s here.

Your lips pull up into a smile. No shyness, no worries of doing something that you shouldn’t.

“Hi.”

“I’ve never seen you around here before,” he echoes back the first words you’ve ever spoken to him. He remembers, just like you. Just like he said he would. Your smile grows wider.

You’re free to be yourself, now.

...i'm trying really hard not to cry right now. if you enjoyed this, please consider letting me know <3

#dave york x reader #dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #the equalizer 2 #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #janas fics #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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caelisblade · 2 months

Text

– FORGET ABOUT US | SYLUS

sylus is the god of death, the underworld, hell. as if that wasn‘t enough, he appears to be your husband whom you have forgotten. and as it turns out, there‘s even more to the story — and about you.

wc; 5.3k

cw; a persephone and hades retelling (kind of), reader is not mc, n/sfw, unprotected s/ex, c/reampie, o/verstimulation, r/iding, a little bit greek mythology inspired, angsty ending

a/n: part of this story was inspired by a fic i read a long time ago. unfortunately, i don‘t remember who it was by, otherwise i‘d obviously give credits.

something was wrong.

you felt in your whole body, it felt like someone was watching you but looking around, you simply were unable to spot anybody. it was weird.

this feeling didn’t leave for days on end. yet, the feeling of being watched, somehow, felt so familiar, too. oddly enough, you didn’t feel like you were in imminent danger. in fact, you felt safer – even slept better at night.

“hello, sweetheart”, the lurker finally revealed himself.

you shrieked in shock as someone suddenly stood before you, a gorgeous, strange man.

“goodness, you scared me. do you normally approach women like this?”, you said, a breathy chuckle leaving you.

“just the prettiest one. and you are the most gorgeous woman i have met in my entire life”, he replied, a gentle smile dancing around his lips.

“uh huh… that’s interesting”, you laughed. “now, tell me, how did you even get into my home? isn’t that… creepy?”

“maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. i couldn’t care less. i’ve come to bring you home.”

“what do you mean? i am home”, you laughed, yet the confusion was incredibly evident in your face.

“this place? no, y/n. this isn’t your home. well, it is for six months of the year but your real home… is someplace else. and i want you back there with me”, he explained, yet so much wasn’t cleared up still. who was he? how did he know your name? he seemed so comfortable just barging in here like… he was someone you had forgotten.

“with you? you’re a total stranger to me. why would i go anywhere with you?”

“because you know me. i’m sylus. you always knew me and you always will. yet, there is a bit of a hindrance between us – you always forget me until it’s time for me to bring you back. i promise, sweetheart. you know me. and i know you. better than anyone else in this world and every other world that exists”, he explained. “i swear, it all will make so much more sense once you come home with me.”

it was weird, but… you felt like he was telling the truth. it was this feeling etched deeply within you, the trust you felt for this man was enchanting and before you even realized it, you were slowly stepping to him.

“i don’t know why, but… i believe you. i don’t understand, but i do”, you softly said.

“because deep down here”, he started, slowly closing the distance between you two and pointing at your heart, “you know i’m telling the truth.”

a loud rumble echoed through your apartment, you looked around in panic as you felt yourself literally being sucked into the ground. “w-what’s going on?!”, you exclaimed, fear enveloping your body.

“we’re going home, sweetheart”, he said with a chuckle and within the next second, just another blink of your eyes, you were someplace else.

confused, you looked around, taking in your surroundings and noticing the gorgeous garden. flowers were one of your most favorite things in the world and you quickly went to the garden, taking a breather of the fresh flowers.

“they’re not real, unfortunately. not a single living thing can survive down here”, sylus explained with a sad tone in his voice.

“what do you mean with down here?”, you questioned. despite him saying that the flowers were not real, they sure as hell smelled real.

“hell. hades. whatever you’d like to call it”, he said, shrugging.

“you brought me to… hell?!”, you asked. “that’s what you called my true home? why would i…?”

nothing made sense. you felt like, nothing would ever make sense to you right now, no matter how clear and understandable the explanation was.

“i promise, i will explain everything to you”, sylus said once again. “come with me, sweetheart.”

he raised his hand, holding it out with an inviting smile. and you took it, curious.

sylus slowly took you around the area. “this is hell?”, you questioned, confused at how it looked all… normal. although the furniture was mostly in black and red, the area was still… giving a certain happy, exciting energy. it definitely didn’t feel like the burning, scary place you were always told the stories about.

“well, it’s a part of it. hell is… not as bad as everyone pictures it. most souls finding their ways here are surprised as well – the burning in hell jab was never a thing. i don’t even know where that came from. yes, hell is a place in which you get punished for your wrongdoings. but… in a way, you punish yourself for those. you know that saying ‘your own personal hell’? that’s exactly how it is for the souls that come here. they relive sins over and over again, with the difference that they experience what they made others experience.”

“that makes sense”, you concluded.

“and being the god of death and the guardian of hell… of course, i’m going to live a lavish life, am i not?”, he laughed softly. “i can literally just snap with my finger…” a little snap with his fingers, and suddenly, a candle-lit table filled with your most favorite meals and dishes appeared in front of you. “and i will have it. this is my world, after all. well, i took over control of it once my brothers and i banished our parents, the titans, to tartarus.”

“i’m so sorry to say this, but… this just feels so surreal. deep down, i know you’re telling the truth, yet some part of me is refusing to believe this is real”, you said.

“as always, sweetheart. you’ll need some time to remember. but that’s okay, i promise”, he comforted you and gently nudged you to take a seat at the couch next to the candlelit dinner table. “take all the time you need, dearest.”

he snapped with his fingers once again and a little plate with different fruits appeared on his hand. “here, eat a little. you must be starving”, he mumbled, taking a few pomegranate seeds and feeding them to you.

“how did you know i like pomegranates?”, you asked.

“i just do. like i said. i know everything about you. and you know everything about me. just give it another two days, maybe three. that’s usually how long i need to feed you pomegranates until you remember. it’s not my first rodeo of this, sweetheart. you’ll understand soon, i promise.”

you nodded, still confused about everything before you just ate the seeds of the delicious pomegranate with excitement. and sylus watched you munch on the seeds so carelessly, so happily. he was so in love with you, his heart jumped as you licked over his fingertip to taste the delicious juice.

“you’re so pretty”, he mumbled. “and so, so adorable. let’s see if i can make you remember me faster this time.”

before you could ask why he kept on repeating that, you suddenly felt his hand on your chin, turning you around before he kissed you. your eyes widened in shock, but you felt yourself melt into it quite fast, eyes slowly fluttering shut and you started to kiss him back. he slowly buried his hand into your hair, his kiss intensifying with every moment.

an image of this exact thing happening flashed before your eyes for a split second, before it vanished again.

he broke off the kiss, breathless from how desperate, longing the kiss was. “i missed this in the past six months”, he mumbled softly. “i missed the way you feel against me, the way you taste. i’m going to make you remember everything. just keep on munching those pomegranate seeds, yeah? they always helped you remember.”

“pomegranate seeds helped me remember? that’s… odd”, you commented, but didn’t complain because you loved them anyway. you grabbed the table with the fresh seeds and kept on eating them, happy about the sweet and sour taste of them. “they’re delicious.”

“of course they are. i got them for you”, he laughed softly. “you get the best of everything. you deserve it all.”

the first day spent in hell with sylus passes with you munching all the delicious food he snapped into reality for you and then slowly falling asleep in his arms.

sylus stayed awake for the entire night. he watched you sleep so comfortably, a soft smile on your lips as you dreamt of various things. he couldn’t know what those things were, but they were beautiful dreams that he knew. that smile on your lips was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

slowly, with the comfort of having you in his arms once again, he fell asleep, for the first time in six months, so relaxed and happy. and he actually slept an entire night without being plagued by the memories he had with you before the curse happened.

you woke up with a sigh, eyes finally opening and you stared right into sylus’ sleeping face. you couldn’t help but look at him, he looked so peaceful, and he was probably the most gorgeous man you had ever met in your entire life.

“good morning”, sylus grumbled, eyes still closed, yet he was awake. “did you sleep well?”

“mhm, surprisingly, considering i just spent the night in hell”, you joked, earning yourself a tickle attack from him.

despite him being a stranger, you had no problem sleeping in the same bed as him.

though, something has changed now. you were sure you remembered splits and bits of what he was talking — or more like, hinting — about.

“i remember a few things, i think”, you mumbled. “it’s weird. i remember you and i kissing, every chance we got. i remember you and i sleeping in this bed like tonight. but i can’t remember what our relationship was. were we boyfriend and girlfriend? were we… married?”

“we were — or more like, still are — actually married”, sylus revealed. “we had the most lavish wedding known among every god in our history. you looked so gorgeous in your dress. i remember the night of our wedding day in its greatest detail, too.” a little smirk danced on his lips at that memory.

“it was probably one of the longest nights we spent entangled in bed together. something i plan to reenact once you remember me”, he laughed softly, and that laugh intensified when he saw how shy you got when you heard that. “and then… followed the war. and the curse.”

his tone got more serious once he got to that part of the story.

“the titans – our parents – challenged us olympians. and we did our best to overthrow them, and finally did it. but before it was finally time and we had banished them to tartarus, my father put a curse on us. we are never able to be together as we wished to be. you disappear back to earth like clockwork around april. i will come and bring you back to me in winter. your mother gave me her blessing for it. i get to spend those six months with my wife. though, i have to make you remember every time anew. i have to make you fall back in love with me again. now, i finally figured out how to make you remember the easiest – pomegranate seeds do the trick best. i don’t know why and i can’t explain why, either. it just works.”

you listen to him intently. he had such a calming storytelling voice. you loved listening to him.

“i mean, after centuries of doing this, i should know how to make my wife fall in love with me every six months, don’t i?”, he chuckled, but there was no sort of emotion in his laugh.

“is there no way of getting rid of this curse?”, you asked. he shook his head.

“not that we know of. nothing we tried ever worked”, he replied.

“i’m sorry”, you said, choking up on your sobs. “i’m sorry i have to make you feel this lonely for six months every time.”

“shh, princess, it’s okay. i’m okay. and as long as you are okay, i will be okay.”

you hugged him immediately, trying to bury your tears. it was clear he loved you and you could feel it by the way he embraced you as well.

“i still don’t remember everything. but i’m willing to try, sylus. i swear. i want to remember everything. i want to remember you and me”, you whispered against his neck.

“and you will. i will do anything in my power to help you remember me. and everything about us. like every year. and then we will spend the most amazing six months of our lives once again. you will forget about them but i will lock them in my memories like every year. and then we’ll meet again in six months. i will be yours forever. no matter how much it breaks my heart to know i have to make you fall in love with me again like clockwork.”

he reached to the nightstand and grabbed a box. as he opened it, he revealed a ring. “this was our wedding ring, sweetheart. i keep it with me. can i put it back on your finger?”

you nodded, your eyes still shimmering from the tears you tried your best to contain as you held out your hand. he carefully slipped the ring onto your ring finger, smiling at you.

“i love you. you don’t have to say it back. do it when you’re ready, pretty”, he whispered and kissed your forehead gently.

you nodded only as you inspected the ring, the diamond etched into it shining brightly in the light of the room. “it’s beautiful. thank you, sy.”

as you called him by your usual nickname, there was yet another memory unlocked. you saying this exact nickname before, sitting in this exact bed before. “i- i remember this exact thing. we did this before, didn’t we?”, you asked. “you give this ring back to me every year. how do you have the patience to wait for me every year, sy?”

“i don’t know. i just do. the thought of being reunited with you at some point gives me the energy to wait and be patient.”

“that must be so painful every time i just… disappear, right?”, you said, hugging him a little tighter.

“it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you are with me again, sweetheart”, he replied. “i love you. i will love you forever with my immortal life. i don’t care that you will leave me every six months, even if it’s involuntary. i will get you back when i can and have you fall back in love with me every single time.”

“you must be the most patient man on earth… well- in hell”, you joked, giggling. “this is so weird. i never pictured hell to look this… beautiful.”

“because this isn‘t the part of hell that‘s the horrible one. this is our home. that we built together. i never changed a thing about the furniture you chose.”

“me? choosing black and dark red furniture? i must‘ve been out of my mind”, you grumble. “are you sure?”

he laughed, his laugh so deep and the way you looked at him was the most adorable thing he saw in his life. as you looked at him questioning his sudden burst of laughter, he slowly stopped laughing and started explaining.

“it‘s funny because… you react like this every single year. and once you remember, you also remember why you chose these specific colors.”

“well, then let’s see what my reasons were for these abominations of color schemes”, you giggled and finally stood up from bed, stretching your body to get rid of the last bits of sleep still lingering in your body.

“i‘m hungry. can you snap your fingers and make me breakfast?”, you yawned, turning back to face him.

“why don‘t you try it yourself?”

“h-huh? myself?”, you ask, the previous confusion making its way back onto your face. “how am i supposed to-?”

“just try. you are a goddess, sweetheart. you don‘t remember anything, but i do. i remember it all. just try”, he encouraged you, standing up to go behind you and he took your hand into his, entangling your fingers with his. “just think of the most lavish breakfast table a person could ever prepare. and focus only on that.”

you closed your eyes, picturing a table with your most favorite items to eat for breakfast and within the next second, that exact table appeared in front of you.

“i did this?”, you asked, looking around and finally looking up to face him. “you‘re not playing around with me, are you?”

“no, of course i‘m not, sweetheart. go on, try making something appear without telling me what it is. go ahead”, he said, letting go of your hand.

you closed your eyes as you tried to think of a bouquet of white roses and winced as you felt a stinging pain in your hand. you opened your eyes again to see that exact binding of white roses in your hand and dropped it as the thorns stabbed into your fingers. you watched a little bit of blood trail down your skin before it vanished just a second later.

you looked at sylus who smiled at you proudly. “see? sweetheart, you are the queen of the underworld. you are my queen. you are the goddess of the dead, the underworld and nature. of course, you can do everything i can do, too.”

with that revelation of your true identity, it was like, everything that was locked in the smallest corner of your brain suddenly unlocked. you remembered everything. you remembered him kidnapping you many centuries ago. you remember eating six pomegranate seeds which is the reason you have to stay six months of the year in the underworld.

you remember the first time you realized you genuinely loved him.

and you remember the gruesome war. you remember the curse sylus’ father had put on you before he was banished to tartarus.

“i remember”, you whisper. “i remember it all.”

“what?”, sylus blurted out, as if in disbelief.

“i remember everything. i remember the first time you brought me here. i remember how i fell in love with you. i remember how we got married before your father put the curse on me”, you said, eyes tearing up.

he quickly grabbed your hands and intertwined your fingers. “i think this is the fastest i was able to make you remember”, he laughed, the brightest smile on his face. before you could do or say anything, he kissed you. it was the most intense, passionate and breathtaking kiss you ever shared before.

your arms wrapped around his neck as he held you tight, and when he broke off the kiss, he didn’t go far away, his forehead pressed against yours. his red eyes bore into yours as you sobbed, tears rolling down your cheeks as he wiped them all off gently.

“shh, don‘t cry, princess. there‘s nothing to cry about”, he whispered gently, planting a soft kiss on both of your cheeks, tasting the dried up tears on your soft skin.

“sylus, i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you”, you repeated like a mantra, kissing him over and over again. “i love you. i’m so sorry for making you go through all of this every single year. let’s try to find a remedy, baby. i don’t ever want to see you in pain again.”

“it’s okay. i promise. it’s okay. i will wait for you every single time”, he replied, hugging you tightly as he comforted you. “don’t cry, my love. don’t cry. let’s just spend these six months together… until it’s time again.”

just a few more moments later, you slowly calmed down and just stood there in his arms. “i love you”, he whispered before he placed his fingers underneath your chin and lifted your head. “i can’t help but say it over and over again. i missed you so much, baby.”

you gave no response – instead, you just kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck once again, the kiss slowly turning from tiny, gentle pecks, into something more intense, passionate.

“missed kissing you like this”, he whispered against your lips. “remember our wedding night?”

your cheeks heated up and you wanted to turn your face around in embarrassment. “no, no, sweetheart, no need to get shy”, he whispered. “i want you to remember that night. because i swear to you, that is what i’m going to reenact once you give me your okay.”

you felt something in your stomach turn, in the most positive way possible. the memories were now etched into your brain and although there were thousands of moments you spent with him.

“sweetheart”, he grumbled, voice having an edge of desperation in it. “you drive me crazy.”

he slowly leaned down to kiss down your neck, he was leaving soft bites over your skin and you shuddered, a feeling of sudden need surging through your body. “please”, you whined, not even knowing what you were asking for.

“please, what, sweetheart?”, he grumbled against your neck. “you know i love to hear your words. you remember now. do it, then. tell me what you want.”

“i want you”, you softly breathed out. “i want you to fuck me.”

“such a dirty mouth. i’ll never tire from hearing you say this, sweetheart”, he chuckled before he kissed you again, this time more desperate, slowly pushing you against the nearest wall and he lifted one of your legs to wrap it around his waist. “i’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll lose your damn mind, sweetie.”

“i know you will”, you whispered softly with a grin.

he was about to carry you back to bed before you stopped him. “take me up against the wall first”, you mumbled, cheeks heating up. “i don’t know why. i just want this. you can make love to me later.”

he chuckled softly before he nodded. “as you wish, milady”, he said with a grin and pulled off your clothes with swift, quick movements. you were unable to move a single muscle, just watching him undress you and looking at you with a hungry gaze.

he slowly let one of his hands trail down your body and you shivered. before you knew it, you felt his fingers slowly circle your clit. even with the tiniest touch, sparks shot through your body, eyes fluttering shut as the first smallest bits of pleasure coursed through your body.

“ah- sylus”, you whined, softly. “i- i need more.”

“you’ll get more, sweetheart. don’t you worry. i’ll take care of you.”

he pushed a finger inside of you, making you moan softly. that sound was one of his favorite sounds on earth. “you’re so wet already. i bet you could take me without a problem, too.”

“please, sy, fuck me”, you begged softly. “please.”

he smirked, his red eyes watched your every move and reaction. “take my clothes off, then, sweetheart.” he pulled out his finger and licked it clean with a smirk. you quickly got to work, pulling off his shirt and the joggers he was wearing.

“never in my life did i imagine the king of hell would wear joggers to sleep”, you laughed but he cut off that laugh rather quickly by wrapping his hand around your neck.

“what’s so funny, sweetheart?”, he grunted with a smirk. “am i not just a person, too? can’t i wear joggers just because i’m the king of hell?”

“of course, you can. i’m just joking around.”

sylus was a rough man, especially in bed. after all, that was a requirement for being the king of hell, the person who rules over the people who passed and punish themselves for their sins, for their crimes.

and he showed that roughness through his actions. because the moment he lifted your leg and wrapped your naked body around his body, slowly pushing in his cock inside of you, he was whipped yet again. he loved being buried in you, fucking you until you were a breathless, overstimulated, yet so beautiful mess.

sylus increased his pace, bouncing you on his cock and making you cry out in pleasure. your body shook, tears slowly forming in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks as you felt your body convulse, a tight knot forming in your tummy.

“i’m- i’m gonna cum!”, you whined. you shrieked when you felt your back on the bed, he suddenly had you thrown onto the bed.

“can’t fuck you properly without laying you down on our bed”, he grunted, “need your legs around me, need you as close as possible to me.”

he fucked you with passion, watching your face contort as the knot in your tummy snapped and you climaxed, back arching into him. you were feeling so great, too, the pleasure making your body tingle and you smiled in your post-orgasmic haze.

“feels good, sweetie?”, he asked, brushing a strand out of your face. “you sure look like it feels absolutely amazing.”

“it does. i feel so.. good”, you whispered, looking up at him with teary eyes. “i need you, sy. i need you more.”

“and you’ll get it all, baby.”

he was ravaging you in the best way possible – he had you buried in the many pillows on his – your shared – bed, fucking into you, your bodies both covered in sweat and dried up tears were coating your cheeks.

“ah- sylus! slow down!”, you cried as overstimulation wrecked through your body, but everything in your body screamed that he shouldn’t stop or slow down. the way he was rutting into you like a man starved was turning you on beyond imagination.

“no, no, no slowing down”, he grunted against your neck, delivering a particularly hard thrust into you, making you jolt up in surprise. “i’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take it all like my good girl.”

“uh-huh”, you whimpered, nails scratching over his back and leaving all kinds of marks. they would heal in a short time, but sylus loved feeling the slight pain of your nails digging into his skin.

your cries intensified when you felt his thumb circle over your clit, along with his relentless thrust into your weeping pussy. “come for me, baby. come for me”, he whispered into your ear, his deep voice sending a powerful shudder through your body and you ended up coming just a quick moment later, the post-orgasmic shocks going through your body.

he held you tight, watching your face contort as your husband gently caressed your skin as he waited for you to calm down. “shh, princess, i’m here. i love you.”

“i still can’t believe you do this every single year”, you whispered once you calmed down, placing your hand on his cheek. “i hate to break your heart like this.”

“it’s out of your control, sweetheart. it’s okay. let’s not focus on that, right now. i just want to be buried in your sweet cunt and feel you as close as possible.”

you laughed softly. “you’re impossible.”

“you love it”, he smirked before he moved once again, watching your face contorted in pleasure and overstimulation. “you love me anyway.”

“that i do. that i really do.”

before you knew it, he turned you around so you were on top of him – he wanted you to watch you on top of him. “ride me, baby. take what you deserve”, he grunted. “let me watch you.”

“you just want me to do all the work, don’t you? so lazy”, you giggled before you started to move up and down his cock, soft whines and moans escaping your throat. his hands were latched onto your hips, guiding your movements and leaned down, laying on top of him and peppered kisses over his neck.

“i swear, your sweet pussy is going to kill me one day”, he groaned. “i’m so close, fuck.”

“then come in me, sy. come in me”, you cried out, overstimulation making your thighs shake but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. you just needed to feel this, you needed to feel as close as possible to him. because you wanted to give him all the memories you could until the day you’d be gone again for six months and forget about him once more.

“fuck, sweetheart”, he grunted into your ear. the noises he let out were like music – and you never wanted it to stop. “you take me so well. i’m so proud of you, baby.”

sylus knew there was no way in hell he could hold back after feeling you wrapped around him after such a long time. so when you squeezed around his cock once again, close to your own high again, you felt the spurts of his cum burst into you, filling you up in the best way possible.

he made it to his mission to make you finish again because even though his body was screaming for a break, he had to make you cum so he just guided your hips up and down his cock until you screamed his name and creamed around his cock again, the white ring of your mixed releases so visible on the base of his cock.

“fuck, baby. i sometimes don’t know how i manage to wait six months to feel this again”, he groaned, keeping you on top of him as he softly brushed through your hair. your body was still buzzing from the constant highs and orgasms and you just lay on his chest, trying to calm yourself down.

his gentle strokes through your hair, over your back made you so drowsy, sleepy from exhaustion. “i love you, sy.”

“i love you, too, sweetheart.”

six months passed with a blink of an eye. you spent most of the time eating all the foods you could think of and just spent the time walking around hell. it was ironically romantic, despite it being literal hell. you’d hold his hand, walk around with him as he showed you the river in the elysian fields, which was the river of happiness.

he let you taste a little drop and you just felt like you were floating on air.

you and him spent a lot of time entangled in bed, fucking each other’s brains out, making love, kissing and making out and you just… loved it all.

the moment you realized that your memory started to blur and you had no idea where you were anymore, you quickly took off the ring on your finger and gave it back to him for safekeeping.

“i’m so sorry, sy. i’m going to miss you. i love you”, you whispered before you disappeared without being able to hear his ‘i love you, too’. you were unable to watch his eyes tear up in pain, his heart breaking. you were back on earth, not remembering anything that had happened in the past six months.

“see you in six months, sweetie”, he whispered, holding the ring tight in his hand and sylus cursed out his father for the pain he made his son experience every single time.

sylus swore that he’d find a remedy one day, but he never was able to.

until then, he’d spend his six months a year with you in your home and wait until it was time to bring you back home. despite the pain, he was happy he was able to spend time with you at all.

he carefully placed the ring back into its box and smiled with teary eyes, starting the countdown of days until he’d see you again.

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed this! it was my first time writing after ages so i might be a bit rusty, so sorry about that. this one is one of my most favorite writings in a long time so i really hope you love it just as much as i do!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace angst #sylus #sylus qin #sylus x reader #sylus smut #lad #lad sylus #sylus fanfiction

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