#starts barking growling etc

[juniperharvest]

if you’re not ready to accept and facilitate an animals natural and healthy behaviors (cats scratching and wanting to be up high, dogs licking, barking, and needing to go on walks) then you’re not ready for that pet!!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (III)

AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, blood, angst, protective Johnny, violence, hurt/comfort, speedy relationship, talks of sex/intimacy (nothing in depth) & virginity pertaining to marriage, religious symbolism & mentions, etc.

A/N: That's it for this AU - onto Werewolf!Ghost next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You’re kept behind Johnny’s back as you both exit the treeline, and you feel yourself quivering with unease. 

What would Lord Wilkin do to you? Drag you back? As the shelter of the trees leaves you, you tighten your grip on the blacksmith’s tunic, breathing out a shaky puff of air. Cobalt eyes look back at you, trying to reassure you as the first calls start up from the guards.

Johnny whispers out, his accent deep. “It’s gonna be just fine.” 

“She’s here!” 

Hounds dash forward but with a sharp bark of, “Get back!” They skid along the dewy grass and halt with rabid barks instead, fur bristled and spittle flying. The men surge forward, and you gasp as they grapple at Johnny’s arms. 

One tries to snatch at the neck of your cloak, but a strong arm traps the armored wrist and twists it sideways, snapping the bone as you stare wide-eyed as the guard screams; jerking back and stumbling to his knees. With a fluid motion, Johnny grasps the handle of the downed guard’s sword as he writhes with agony, unsheathing the blade and laying it upon the breast of the other with a dim call. 

He glowers and glares, eyes like burning coals. 

“I suggest you step back,” you watch, holding your breath from over his shoulder as the blacksmith leans closer to the man, one arm kept behind him and resting on your hip. “‘Fore this gets bloody.” The guard raises his hands and backs up quickly, fear splashing his eyes. 

All of the others watch nervously from the sidelines, either reigning in steeds or holding their hands to the pommels of their weapons. Waiting. 

You swallow the saliva in your throat and ask, quietly, “Are you alright?” 

“Don’t twist your head about me,” Johnny reassures, eyes traveling around the homestead as the guards shuffle and share glances. The Scot grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this. 

If you had run, just as the man had anticipated, they would have caught up in no time.

The clop of hooves from your left draws both of yours’ attention in a quick succession of perked heads and pounding hearts. You feel your blood drop to pool in your feet at the face that meets you. Johnny growls and shoves you farther into his shadow as Lord Wilkin comes closer with a horse of bay coat, decorated with all the finery of his station. Gold, great coat with an embroidered tunic, and riding boots. Strapped at his waist was a dagger encrusted with gems made of blood and diamonds.

Never mind all that wealth, he looked ugly and cruel to you—a glint of arrogance in his eye. You glare and grit your teeth, rage coming off in waves from Johnny as well as yourself. 

Wilkin’s old face is the same you remember smirking down at you as he drove the ceremonial blade into your palm, and your entire hand flinches in memory, digging your nails into the Scot’s waist. 

He puffs a sound of reassurance but otherwise doesn’t move an inch from in front of you.

“And who might this be holding my bride hostage?” The Lord’s voice is sly. Black eyes dart up and down Johnny’s form and the man you latch to has to restrain a rabid grunt of anger. Stay his molten tongue. “A blacksmith?”

“It’s MacTavish, to you,” Johnny calls, tone dead and laced with danger. Your body restrains a shiver as his warm skin sinks into you; the memory of his lips on yours is addictive, even now. “Be best for you to remember it, eh? Considerin’ I’m the one who supplies your fucking guards with arms.” 

Lord Wilkin utterly ignores him, his gaze sliding to you halfway through his sentence. You stay silent, lungs tight inside of your ribs. The unfortunate truth was that Johnny still had more standing here than you did, anything that you said would come up as null and void; in fact, it would be better to be completely mute. 

But with how the Lord was looking at you, your teeth had to bite into your lip to silence yourself. You had to come up with a way out of this. Soon. 

“Take my bride away from this brute. Chain him.” Wilkin hides a smirk, pulling at his steed’s reigns to shift the beast away with a snort and a flick of a dark tail. “I want his head on the block in the town square by tomorrow. I have a wedding to finalize.”

“Let the fires of hell go cold if I go anywhere with you,” you say, stepping out slightly from behind Johnny, much to his hesitation, but still, he watches over you and lets you do as you please. The blacksmith would rather not have this Lord’s eyes anywhere near you if he’s being honest with himself.

This Scot had made you bold—his words gave finality. If he said nothing would happen to you, you believed him. Perhaps that made you foolish, but his word meant far more than anyone else. Johnny kept his promises.

Lord Wilkin’s horse is jerked to a stop, its head snapping back and forth with a frothing mouth. His eyes travel back and a slow sneer pulls at his lips, sitting under a mustache of white hair. You restrain a cringe, and Johnny barks an order to the advancing guards to stay back as his large feet set themselves. 

“If they grab me,” he mutters, speaking over his shoulder, “run, Little Lady. I’ll be sure to give you an opening.”

Your eyes widen in shock and horror, but before you can answer, your husband-to-be calls to you. The Blacksmith’s expression is the picture of defense as he angles the sword in his grip at the far-off Lord when even the barest hint of his tone indicates you.

A low grunt was ringing in his throat like that of an animal—as if the bear fur inside of the house had come to life and was a shield of muscle and iron shavings.

Your eyes blink, and something begins forming in your head, but it’s gone before you can really grasp it.

“My Lady,” Lord Wilkin states, his guards taking up places beside him, glaring. The hounds have still not gone silent, and Johnny eyes them nervously. “I believe you’ve been overcome by some…” He grumbles and gnashes his teeth in rage. “Spell of disobedience. I’ll have a physician examine you and keep you in my home for a stay of recovery—”

“The lady said she’s not goin’ with you,” Johnny seethes, pupils slits. Your hand rests on his back, spread over the swell of his broadness as you feel his pulse. Hot and racing. “So pack the fuck up and scatter! And take the bloody mutts with you!” 

You spare a worried glance at the back of his head. The blacksmith can’t possibly believe that threatening them will make Wilkin pull back, and when he meets your eyes, you know he doesn’t just by the wrinkles by the sides of his lids. 

He’s nervous, shifting his feet in small increments to try and push you nearer to the tree line. Your body hardens. 

You’ve already made your mad dash—there was no more running. Certainly not if your new center of affection and protective build wasn’t coming with you. 

Wilkin raises a brow. “Quite demanding for the man surrounded…Woman!” You flinch at the sudden shout, the quick rage of his snapping head, and the quick switch. Johnny glares and his hands are strangling the hilt of the sword, white and held still. The Lord barks, “Your parents gained valuable gifts for your well-bred hand—would you enjoy them being taken away? I can do so.” Dark eyes sweep over you. A smirk. “Forget this spark of madness and consummate what you know to be done.”

Johnny lunges with a snarl, eyes burning with horrible anger and the intent to cut the head off the snake. The guards meet him as he yells to you, “Run, Dearie!” 

But your feet are stone.

When the man realizes you’re going nowhere without him, his eyes gain a sheen of panic as his blade clashes with sparks of steel with another. A dance of feet and wit that speaks to years of careful study; practice from both parties. Wilkin looks smug as Johnny lets off a loud curse and has to turn his attention back to the fight.

“Seems the woman’s come to her senses. Praise God, perhaps there’s hope for her yet.” You breathe heavily, hands clenched under your cloak. Your mind wished for a dagger—one to show this pathetic excuse of a man how much it hurt to try and have someone mark you for the pleasure of ownership. Like some common branded cow. 

Wilkin nods to you as Johnny gazes on in horror, narrowly dodging a swipe at his side before he elbows a guard in the face, splaying him out along the ground in a heap of leather and fabric.

“What are you doing?” He yells, voice booming out over the forest. You don’t look at him before you suck down a breath and steady your nerves; standing taller and setting back your shoulders. 

The trained grace that had been shoved down your throat on a silver platter came back easily. Forks and spoons sliding under your teeth, all engraved with images depicting holy scenes of sanctity while the blood of your flesh spills at the poke of thorns sitting on your head. A halo of bloody martyrdom. 

A tool. 

You can be a tool, you decide, flinching when Johnny’s body is tackled to the ground; form ricochetting as he growls and writhes. His sword clatters to the ground. They have him in binds, cheek shoved into the dirt, and great shackles that skirt the line between animal and human restraint. A guard’s hand forces his face deeper into the earth and Johnny bellows, ordering with wild eyes, “Run, dammit! Get out of here!” 

Sending a stiff glance, you stare blankly into cobalt eyes and blink away just as quickly, standing and staring down Lord Wilkin as he watches in contentment at the scene of the raging blacksmith and his seemingly placated bride. At the twitch of his lips, you raise your voice high. 

“Release him.” Dark eyes turn to slits before they slowly slither back to you. 

“Pardon?” You grit your teeth and feel Johnny glaring, a snarl ripping out of his mouth as he coughs through the grass. 

“Dearie, no!” A punch hits his stomach as he’s jerked up to his feet and attacked; chains rattling as hounds bay for blood. You sense your gut roll with bile as Johnny fights back—tree-like legs laying a kick square into one's abdomen. 

The two guards hang onto his arms, shouting at each other to try and restrain him further.

“I ask my husband-to-be to release the man that graciously gave me shelter during the storm,” staring hard, you’re trying to stop yourself from running to Johnny. You know you have nothing to help him with—it would be pointless and utterly stupid. 

Your brow raises, but a nervous twinge is still in your voice. “Does My Lord not take pride in the fact that the men of his fiefdom are so open to taking in those less fortunate than themselves?”

Wilkin’s cheeks go tight, skin pulling as the eyes of the free guards travel to him. The struggle gradually dies down across the way; cobalt eyes darting back and forth with panic. 

“Don’t bloody do what I think you’re doin’!” 

A trade would happen, but only for a moment. In your head, you were whipping past possibilities and scenarios. There was something on the cusp of discovery—so close to giving you the upper hand, but what was it? Like a thorn in your foot, you continue to walk over it; ready and willing. 

Johnny had your back last night, it was time you had his.

“Let the honorable blacksmith go,” you level. “And name your price.” 

The response is immediate. A flashing smirk. “Deal. I’ll take my bride back, just as was intended.”

“No!” Johnny’s tunic is all ripped up, tears from gripping hands only making the damage larger—nail scrapes along his hardened flesh from the guard’s ruthless hold. Skin white from the force.

If you look at him, you’ll lose your mind.

Under your cloak, your hands shake as Wilkin descends his horse, coming closer. 

“Keep your fuckin’ bastard hands off of ‘er!” 

Think. His footsteps march closer—thin and sly-looking like a sharp-eyed Egret. Think! 

Before his hand can snap at your wrist your mind sparks in a panicked moment, and you’re exclaiming with a loud voice before you can stop yourself or think the sentence through. You stutter at first but quickly gain your footing. 

“I-In good faith, I cannot accept—I am unfaithful to you, Lord!” 

The entire homestead goes still, and those struggling with Johnny’s binds freeze. Lord Wilkin goes confused, his wrinkled visage peeling in like a rotted corpse. But no faces are quite as good as the blacksmith’s, who goes so pale and wide-eyed before he can school himself in secrecy; his jaw loose. His heart pounds in his breast, shreds of tunic waving in the wind. You continue with utter conviction, so much so that you even start to believe the lie you’ve crafted with a swift mind. “See the evidence upon the blacksmith’s sheets—where we lay last night in the throes of lust; I am no longer a pure bride.” Breaths get caught in throats; eyes bugging to a nonsensical degree. You swear someone choke. Your face burns as you continue, faking a shameful falling of your chin. 

“I cannot marry you!” It’s almost enough to break you, the realization on Johnny’s expression as he darts his vision to your hand—which you hide inside your cloak; wrapped around your waist with false fear. Blood on your hand. 

Blood on the sheets.

“It would be shameful to do so, do you not understand? I am not but a used good.” Fake or not, the last comment still makes Johnny’s hands clench his jaw working itself with a restrained growl. 

But pride furrows his brow. A smirk was forced back from his lips.

You just took away what Wilkin loves more than anything else—control. 

The older man halts, his mouth going agape and a vile sheen coming to his cheeks. He stutters, “I...what?” It’s a violent snarl, but the man balks back from you as if you’re infected. “You dare lie to me, Girl? Play off this fallacy?” 

“It’s no lie,” you say, gaining confidence with how Johnny watches you closely, only once rumbling at the guards that hold him when they tighten their grip. “The evidence is plain as day in the Blacksmith’s bed.” 

Wilkin’s eyes flash, and he barks an order to one of his men to enter the main house. Only when his dark eyes are off of you do you spare a look at Johnny. 

You sag softly, shoulders losing some tension. 

Blue eyes lock with yours, firm. Sending an apologetic squint of your eyes, the man only slightly shakes his head, mouthing out, “Don’t worry your little head about it.” A quick, barely-there smile flashes his lips—but then you have to look away before you let the shaking of your body be known. No matter how hard you plead with your muscles to stop vibrating, they do so instinctually. 

You know what lying about this will cost you, successfully or not. You’d be labeled for the rest of your life; separate. But Johnny’s eyes on you ease the pain. Lets you breathe. If the worst thing that could happen to you was living out your life in his homestead and being at his side, then perhaps social execution was the only thing that pleased you at the moment. 

You just hoped that it didn’t lead to an actual execution.

“Lord!” The guard returns as Johnny continues to watch you, panting, with sweat dripping down his chin. His ribs hurt something awful, but he only glowered at the men holding him and stayed his violent tongue to let you work your strengths like fine iron wrought in the fire of his hearth. 

Wilkin’s lackey was hurriedly carting the length of the Blacksmith’s sheets behind him—clutching in his fist the vibrant red stain of your blood and displaying it to the light. Thinking about what they saw it as, instead of your wound opening, you cringe and restrain a sound of disgust. 

Even being around Johnny for as little time as you had, despite the kiss and infatuation, you had forgotten how crude the rest of these men could be. It’s like this sanctuary of trees and dew-soaked ground was in an entirely different world, and these intruders were wrecking it. By Johnny’s face, he felt the exact same.

Half of the Scot wanted to save your honor and tell them you were lying, but the desperation of the situation was far more serious than that. He couldn’t let you go back to Wilkin—he’d promised. So Johnny took down a tight breath and stayed silent; face burning and glaring at the ground with clenched fists shaking for blood. 

The guards holding his arms slightly release their grip, listening intently themselves.

Blanking, the Lord’s eyes lock onto the stain as the man brings him the fabric. Not a moment later his hand snaps out to drag it to his face, looking daggers into the redness as his eyes snap from place to place.

“...You did this on purpose,” the slow dead tone takes you aback, hands around your abdomen digging further into your flesh as a dread spills into your stomach with blossoming unease. 

“M-my Lord?” Johnny tenses, eyes sharp like a wolf.

“You did this so you could spite me, you little,” the encrusted dagger is unsheathed from its scabbard. “Whore!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The blacksmith bursts with wrath, jerking forward so violently that he drags the guards holding him along the ground, their calls of alarms making the hounds go ballistic. 

You take a small step back as Wilkin gets nearer to you—the point of the blade setting itself right under your chin; tilting your head up. Breath going tight, you stare with wide eyes and a pounding heart. 

He wouldn’t kill you…would he? 

The Lord’s eyes are brimstone and deeper than Hell, holding sinners in the bars of his pupils while devils of brown specks prod the pool of obsidian. If a man could be on fire and still be living, Wilkin was an inferno incarnate. 

“You belong to me,” he grits his teeth as Johnny’s voice blurs in the background, having to be forced to his knees by three men yet still nearly throttling one with the force of his arms. “I paid for you.”

“Then you should find it a lost investment,” you shakily reply, not knowing how you have the strength to stare into Wilkin’s eyes. But you do. You stare and you hold your hands tight into your flesh until the skin under your gifted fabric aches. A small prick of the blade makes you suck in a tight inhalation, a tiny droplet of crimson sneaking down your throat.

It’s a battle of wills, and before you say what you’re thinking, you’re nearly sure that in less than three seconds you’ll be grasping a slit throat. 

You clear your throat softly and speak in a dim whisper. “How will your guards react to you killing a woman in anger?” Expressions freeze. “What does God say about that?” You swallow, throat bobbing. Hit him where it hurts. “...What would the townspeople say? Mercy is not above our great Lord, that is an earthly prospect. I believed that was your greatest quality, is that not what everyone believes?” 

Wilkin stares, his mustache twitching. Dead face. Dead eyes. 

It’s a long, long moment before anything else happens, and when it does, you flinch.

The dagger disappears from your chin and you instantly back up several steps, breathing unevenly. Pointedly, you place your uninjured hand on your slowly dripping skin. 

Johnny’s taken down three of the guards, their faces bloody and your blacksmith’s nose broken. He yells and screams curses. You feel your heart constrict at the sight, pain zooming down your veins in bursts of adrenaline, but it’s seconds later that Wilkin speaks, loudly so that everyone can hear.

“I would never harm a woman,” you hold back a violent scoff as your hands shake, wanting to be taken into Johnny’s arms now more than ever—feel his heat and inhale his scent. Wrapped in a blanket of steel and ash. “In my good graces, I will pray for your salvation, Miss. But being soiled—” 

“Bloody piss off!” You send Johnny a quick glance at the outburst. He’s forced back face-first into the ground with a grunt and sputtering of grass in his mouth. 

“I no longer wish to be joined with you in holy matrimony. It would be dishonorable to my station.” Dark eyes swim with hatred, but the tone of his voice is easy and pliable. The Lord was a good fake—he plasters on an appeasing smile for his men and waves a quick hand in the air as he turns to his horse. “Release the brute. Let the pair roll in their sin of carnal desire. God will be their judge.”

Johnny struggles as they unlock his chains, but the second he’s out he’s springing full-force towards you; his skin sliding across your cloak as you’re guarded far better than any loyal hound or King might be. 

“Johnny,” you grapple at his biceps, sighing raggedly in relief. He doesn’t brush you off, only curling his side around you and angling his head to the mounted horses; pupils slits and lungs heaving. His nose looks awful. “Don’t, don’t,” you plead, “It’s over.”

The man doesn't respond, looking feral as his hair goes this way and that; coiled around your body about to strike at anything that comes close. 

“I’ll kill him,” Johnny grunts. “I’ll rip his damn throat out for speakin’ to you like that—for puttin’ a knife to your throat. I’ll rip him into bloody bits and pieces, you just say the word, Little Lady.”

Your arms encase the one of his you’re holding, dragging the limb to your chest. Cobalt eyes dart back to your face. It’s a long moment, but his expression softens slightly—the wrinkles beside his eyes easing while his lips twitch down. Blood drips off his lower face, spread around his under eyes, and stains his stubble with crimson gore.

“Please,” you mutter. 

He looks down and nods stiffly, even if he doesn’t like it. 

The horses are rallied, the hounds called, and with a throw of dirt from their hooves the convoy is off. Silence returns in slow increments of nothingness. 

Wind, the call of a bird, and the babble of a far-off stream echo through the pines. Only when they’re entirely out of sight and the dust has cleared that Johnny swiftly moves, picking you up into his arm. You squeak as he carries you speedily into the main house, rushing to place your backside on the table. 

His large hands immediately tilt your head up to spy the tiny mark from Wilkin’s blade, and you feel his shuttered breath against your throat as you go heated. 

“J-Johnny, what are you…” But you don’t get an answer, the man disappearing before coming back with a wetted rag. Once more, the man cleans your wounds with delicate presses of the cloth—ridding you of all blood. 

His jaw is clenched, and as you watch, your hand in your lap twitches. 

In a broken act of pain, you lightly run your fingertips over the swelling of his nose. The man stops, but serious eyes stick to your throat—unable to meet your gaze; there’s a red sheen to his neck and ears. Anger or embarrassment, you know not.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, guilty, and his widened gaze rips itself to lock with yours. Your vision blurs, afraid to touch him fully as if it might burn him.

“No,” he’s shaking his head. “No, you never tell me that. What you did, Dearie…I,” Johnny stutters, closing his mouth before opening it again. “I should be apologizing to you. It wasn’t fair to make you do that. Any of it.” 

A wobbly smile flicks your lips.

“Are you saying I should have left you?” Johnny moves his face farther into your hand, blood contaminating your skin but you don’t pull away. You let him sag into your palm instead, reveling in the scrape of his stubble against your soft hands. 

“I’d not see you harmed,” is all he answers. 

You sigh and blink away your tears, stealing the man’s rag so you can dab at the bloody nostrils. Johnny’s pulse is still fast under you—like the pound of his hammer. 

“Well,” his eyes dig into yours and you smile. “I believe my priorities are the same. I may have only met you yesterday, but I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

“Aye, well, everyone will know how fond soon enough.” He’s more worried about this than you are, a stubborn and almost grumbly tone to his words. 

“Is my purity that much of a sore point for you?” You can’t help but tease him, even in the circumstances. “I had no idea.”

His face goes more crimson than his own blood, and he blinks at you rapidly. 

“I…That isn’t what I…” You chuckle gently and press your forehead to his, whispering. 

“I was just joking.” He sags with relief, his hands coming up to rest on your hips with the care of a man unbefitting to his station. Again, you have to ask yourself how an individual so intimidating can be, at the same instance, kind and generous. 

His lips mutter, brows tight. “Are ya sure you’re alright, Hen?” 

You think, wondering about the run through the forest when this all began, the plea for shelter. Such a deep coincidence that you’d end up here—perhaps the most safe place in the entire fiefdom. Everything had lined up perfectly, barring a few bumps in the road. You doubted Wilkin will mess with this place after the spreading of your ‘promiscuous’ behavior.

He was too sly for outright violence if given the option.

“Yes,” you know, and thin your lips. “What about your nose? A-and everything else?”

“Don’t think about it,” the Scot smiles, eyes still glinting with worry. So many hours and you’d barely gotten any sort of break. “I just want you to rest, then, eh?” 

Maybe it was outwardly obvious, but the entire ordeal had left you drained; shaky, and still coming off of panic. What if they had killed Johnny…? 

You’d go back to Wilkin and live as his wife, producing heirs and locked away in his estate for the remainder of your life. What kind of existence was that? No, you knew, you’d never live like that. 

You’d never live like that here. 

With a shaky breath, you watch Johnny’s eyes flash with concern for a moment by your silence, but before he can speak you’re pressing your lips to his in a firm and honest kiss—sinking in every emotion you could. 

The man grunts in surprise, but doesn’t move back; if anything, his grip on your hips increases, sliding up to your waist. 

After a moment of tasting flesh, you pull back and whisper, “Thank you.”

Johnny breathes heavily, a glimmer in his blues, “Well,” he grumbles, “I’d say you did most of the work.” 

You both share a chuckle before you’re lifted again, carried gently over to the bed without sheets. You’re placed atop the bear fur and wrapped in that instead after your cloak is unclipped and folded neatly, set on the floor. Outside, the call of a far-off storm hits your ears and you blink to the window. 

“Stay with me?” You ask before you can stop yourself or can even think. 

The blacksmith’s breath catches, his fingers flinching as they were pulling the fur tighter around your neck. 

It’s a moment before he asks in a quiet tone. 

“You sure you want this, Dearie?” His lips go tight, eyes narrowing in inner conflict. You stare and already know the answer just by how he speaks to you. “I’m no King. I…I can’t give you fine jewelry or fancy clothes. There’ll be no grand suppers beyond the game I catch or what I can afford to buy. Long winters.” 

The air goes quiet with worship, and your eyes go wide with care. His broken nose is crooked, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. You wonder if that was for your sake or his.

“I’m not someone worthy of your beauty,” he rubs at the back of his head, bending down by the edge of the bed. “Certainly not your smarts. I’m only a blacksmith, Little Lady.”

“Only?” You huff a chuckle. Johnny looks at you in confusion as the black clouds outside roll in, seen through the window of this quaint and lovely home. The hearth is warm, the scent of food still in the air, and the memory of a dash through the forest behind you. 

“If you’re only a blacksmith, Mr. MacTavish,” you’re sent a fake stern look as the back of a hand goes to brush your cheek. You shiver. “Then I’m only a runaway bride.”

“Aye,” Johnny admits with a growing smile of adoration, “but still a bonnie one, at that.” 

“...Stay with me?” You ask again. 

The man breathes out, “Tell me why.”

“The trees do not deny what they need to make them whole, Blacksmith,” you whisper. “Why should I?” 

He’s clambering under the fur, wrecked clothes, and blood on his face but never feeling more whole. Is so little a time enough to fall in love with someone? What deity had tied your souls together so soon with ribbon soaked in rainwater—tinged with blood? 

His lips meet yours as you sigh into him, hands gripping his arms as they circle your waist tightly. Johnny breathes you in and lets his hands span your back, fingertips digging into your clothes. Into his mouth, you whine a plea for him to keep you close and hold you tight. It’s all your need from him. It’s all you want. 

For the wise know best: there is nothing better than a simple life.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

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You enter your apartment. It doesn’t really feel like yours anymore. That man, that gargantuan invader, has tainted your safe space. You keep your head down as you brush by Sy. He reaches to squeeze your wrist and promptly lets you go. 

You cringe as you march stiffly down the entryway. 

“Thank you, officers,” he says, “sorry to trouble ya like this. You have a good one.” 

“You too, sir,” one responds, “hopefully your homecoming gets a bit warmer.” 

The door shuts and you flinch. You stop in the living room, shoulders sloped, head down. You can’t stop the shaking. You hear him coming as Aika sits obediently in the corner. You glance at the dog, you don’t think she can help, you don’t know that she would. She’s loyal to her owner. 

Sy stalks into the front room as you cower, wring your hands in front of your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you watch his shadow as he fumes and paces around. He exhales, small mutters you can’t discern. Circling around and around then suddenly stomping towards you. 

You whimper and your eyes flick up as you take a step back, eyes watery with fear. He stops, just an inch away, chest puffing with fury. You bat your lashes as you wait, for what, you don’t know. For him to do something, anything. 

“How could you hurt me like that, sweetie?” He hisses. 

“I... don’t know--” 

“You hide from me. Scare me, like that?” His voice rises, quaking as you hear him struggling to control it, “call the f—the cops?” 

He can’t keep his voice from booming. He’s so loud. Like thunder crashing down around you. 

“After all I did for you, you treat me like a monster. Actin’ all scared like I’d ever hurt you!” He snarls, “I wouldn’t, sweetie, and you know it. What did I ever do to make you think that, huh?” He starts to pace again, throwing his hands out as he rants, “I told you—I'm not a bad man! I’m not! I wouldn’t hurt you!” He barks as Aika puts her head down, eyes on her own, “but you hurt me. You. Hurt. Me.” 

He growls and his nostrils flare as he comes back around it front of you. You peek at him from beneath tear-webbed lashes. Your heart thrums in your ears and your chest thumps. He raises his hand and you wince as he smacks himself in the head. You cry out in horror as he does it again, each time harder than the last as he continues his angry prowl. 

“Sy!” You squawk. 

He snarls again and beats himself with both hands, “maybe I deserve it, huh? This is what you want. For me to hurt.” 

“No, I--” you heave as a sob bubbles up your throat. You don’t like violence. You never wanted this. You just want him gone. To be left alone. 

He roars and throws his fist around, hitting the flower lamp off the end table. It flies off and the cord snags, sending it shattering to the floor. You whine and put your knuckles to your lips, horrified as he continues his fit. He grabs the table next, hurling it with one hand as if it weighs nothing. The draw slips out and the continues scatter. 

He spins again, puffing and panting, his face red and furious. He storms towards the opposite wall and before you can understand what’s happening, he bashes his face against it. He staggers back, grips his head and blindly stumbles around. 

You stand, dumbfounded, as he falls onto the couch. He sits and hangs his head, gripping it between his large hands. He breathes loudly as he leans his elbows on his knees. Your tears spill out as you hug yourself and sniffle. 

You babble as you feel something against your leg. You look down as Aika nuzzles against you. You reach down to touch her snout. She licks your palm and you turn your attention back to Sy. You’ve never witnessed anything like that. You never ever wanted to hurt him. You pity him more than anything, he seems so lost. 

You suck in a breath and swipe the wetness from your cheeks. You drag your foot forward as Aika stays close. You back up and go through to the kitchen. You take a clean dishcloth from the drawer and wet it under the faucet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline. You don’t know what you’re doing. 

You cross the room to Sy as his breaths huff in and out. You can see the blood on his forehead as he nears. You hesitate, furling and unfurling your fingers before you touch his muscled shoulder. 

“Sy,” you say softly. 

He ignores you, fingertips curling into his skull, “so stupid...” you make out the words under his breath. 

You squeeze him as Aika pokes her head under his arms and noses him from below. He sits up and scratches her head. He wobbles as his foggy eyes come into focus. He looks at you, a gash on his forehead and another across the bridge of his nose. You try not to react as you offer the wet cloth. 

He considers it and takes it with a sigh. He dabs at the blood on his face as he watches you. You bring your palms together, rubbing them nervously, as you bounce on your feet. 

“Thanks,” he mutters as Aika nudges his hand for more pets. He looks between you and the dog, “I-- I’m sorry. I let you down. Both of you.” 

He stands up and you back away, folding your hands over your chest as you make yourself small. He holds the cloth against his nose and grunts. He scowls and turns away. You don’t move as he marches to the bathroom. The door snaps shut just as Aika reaches it. You hear the lock click. 

You bite your lip and slowly glance towards the entry way. You stare. You could try again but to what end. Blair wouldn’t let you back in after you brought that chaos into her world and the police won’t do anything more than blame you again. 

Maybe it is your fault. Sy means well... 

No, no! He doesn’t belong there. This is your life.  

Aika’s paws pad down the hall and she sits by the door. She knows what you’re thinking it seems. Doesn’t matter, you have nowhere to go and no one to go to. 

You pivot carefully, searching for a distraction. What can you do now? You’re too addled to sit down and work or even hide away in the bedroom under the covers. You walk a circle around the room and stop yourself. You look at the wall, a smear of blood and a dent left by his collision. 

You return to the kitchen and grab a paper towel. You come back to wipe away blood. When you get most of it out, you start to clean up the rest of the mess. The lamp is broken. You put the shards in a box and leave it by the door. Then you gather up the random pens and notebook and right the table before tucking it all back in the drawer. 

As you stand up, you hear another click. You peer over as Sy appears. His shirt is gone. The cuts on his face are no longer bleeding but his eyes are still blazing. You gulp as his jaw tenses. 

“I’m sorry I broke your lamp,” he utters dully. 

You wet your lips with your tongue, “Do you want some tylenol?” 

His eyebrows arch and his cheek ticks. He nods slowly, “yes, sweetie.” 

You try to smile and your mouth quivers. You retreat and go to fetch the bottle of pills and some water. When you come back, he’s on the couch again.  

“Head sure does hurt,” he says as he accepts the glass and the tablets. 

You hum and nod. He throws back the pills and drains half the glass. He set the cup down and leans back, once more holding his head. 

“Do you think... maybe you should see a doctor?” You suggest. 

“I’m fine,” he growls, “got worse over in the sh—in the war.” 

You scrunch up your lips and twiddle your fingers. He drops his hands and brings his head straight. You fidget as he takes you in, his eyes narrow and his expression pained. He waves you closer, “come here.” 

You stop moving. You’re completely still as you stare him. His brow lowers dangerously. You near him reluctantly, wary of riling him again. 

“I’m sorry I yelled, sweetie,” he takes your hand and leans forward to kiss your knuckles, “I was worked up. I thought—I was crazy. I thought I lost you, you know? But I get it. You wanted to see your friend and she... she put her nose in our business and called in the cops, huh? Jealous, I bet.” 

You blanch. That’s not the truth. That isn’t what happened at all. You won’t argue. 

“Yeah,” you let him cling to your hand, “I think she was just worried because she didn’t recognise you. I’m... I’m sorry.” 

He looks up at you and his lips curve, “I know you’re sorry, sweetie,” he tugs on you, “but we’re all good now, aren’t we? I got you, you got me, everything’s as it should be.” 

He moves you and you let him. You know better than to break the illusion again. He angles you onto his lap and your body locks up. He hugs you to him, a hand on your leg, his other arm across your back. He purrs as he holds you close, leaning back as the tension seeps from him. 

“Just like this, sug, me and you,” he grits. 

🧸

You escape Sy’s embrace for the excuse of making breakfast. The task helps you keep your fears at bay though his presence looms just on the other side of the wall. Your helplessness is starting to feel like acceptance as the last of your denial dissipates. This is real. You are trapped. 

You plate up a heaping plate of bacon and eggs. You scrape butter onto toast and bring it out to the table. You teethe your lip as you stand in the archway of the front room. 

“Food’s ready, Sy,” you squeak. 

He sits up and groans as he stretches. He stands, towering over you as he looks even broader without his shirt. Somehow you keep forgetting how big he really is. 

He crosses the room and you scurry back to the kitchen. You hear him pull the chair out as you grab your leftover french toast and bring it out. You’re not very hungry, in fact you feel sick to your stomach. Still, you know you have to play along. 

That sound, the one of his head hitting the plaster, keeps replaying in your head. You hate it. As much as he scares you, as much as he’s a stranger, you don’t want to be the reason he’s hurt. You stare at your plate glumly as you cut into the cold eggy bread. 

“Thank you, sweetie,” he undercuts your gloom with his bright tone, “sure smells good.” 

You glance up, poking at the toast with your fork, “sorry, all I had was turkey bacon.” 

“S’all good,” he tears a strip in half and takes a bite. 

You muster a smile and drop your gaze back to your food. You take a bite of the stale, syrupy bread. You chew mechanically, bite by bite, and choke it all down. You think of how he might react if you let the food go to waste. He paid for it after all. At least the berries add a bit of flavour. 

“You should make a video today,” he says abruptly. 

Your eyes flick up and you blink, “oh, uh, maybe not today--” 

“Your followers will be wanting to check in, won’t they? You can’t leave them hanging.” 

“Um, well, I’ll think about it later---” 

“You know, sweetie, like I said, you got me through some tough days. You’re all I had out there. Who knows, maybe there’s others who feel the same, you know?” He scoops up eggs on his fork and hovers them over the plate, “and you’re special. The world needs more of you.” 

“Thanks, er, I’m just... tired is all.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t snuck out to the couch, huh?” He challenges. 

You’re surprised by the admonishment. You wince and give a shrug, “yeah, I guess--” 

“I could help ya with the video. We could do something fun. Maybe... we could go for a walk with Aika. She loves the wilderness. Specially when there aren’t bombs hidin’.” 

You look down guiltily. You don’t blame him for wanting out of his old life. For being so excited to be away from the chaos. And you feel worse because you’ve taken all you have for granted. Each time he talks, he reminds you of your ignorance. 

“I guess... that sounds nice,” you sniff. 

“Sounds perfect to me,” he swallows his mouthful, “walking around with my girls, showing ‘em off.” He grins, “couldn’t ask for anything more.” 

[chainsawgvtsfvck]

Choke - Euronymous x Reader

Quick n dirty little thing I wrote bc I can’t stop thinking about him wrecking me.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, choking, light degradation, namecalling (whore, dog, etc), squirting

Euronymous had you held down on the couch, face buried between your legs and two thick fingers stuffed inside you, beating your g-spot mercilessly. His tongue lapped at your clit greedily.

He’d been at it for nearly an hour now, bringing you just close enough to the edge over and over again before backing off with a self-satisfied smirk. His lips and chin glistened with your juices.

You whined, weakly reaching for his hair in an attempt to pull his face back down.

“No, no, no…be patient.” He growled, nipping at your thighs.

“Øystein, m’gonna die…” you sobbed.

“Your cunt is twitching so much. It’s pathetic.” He murmured, slowly dipping his tongue inside you while the bridge of his nose nudged at your clit. You were so close it hurt, and he couldn’t get enough.

“What do you want, baby?” He cooed, “Want me to fuck you like the desperate little doggy you are?”

You keened desperately, unable to even form the words. Your cockdrunk expression sent electricity straight down to his dick.

Euronymous unzipped his jeans and tugged them down just enough to free his cock and gave it a few languid strokes while he took in the sight of you.

“Say it,” he murmured, “say ‘I’m a desperate little doggy and I need to get fucked.’ “

The words spilled from your lips before you could think about it, “I-I’m a desperate little doggy and I need to get fucked! Please, Master!”

He laughed at you and rubbed his cock head up and down your slit. His dick was so thick and slippery with precum.

He pushed in slowly - so slowly. He stretched and filled you so fucking good.

As soon as the head of his cock nudged your g spot, you couldn’t help it - you came, humiliated.

Euronymous groaned in amazement as your cum splashed his jeans.

“Did you just fucking cum from my dick pushing inside you? That is so fucking pathetic!” He cackled, unable to help himself from beginning to fuck you brutally fast.

You tried to cover your face with your hands, but he grabbed your wrists and wrenched them away.

“Bad girl,” he barked, “Let me see that stupid face.”

His pace was relentless and you felt like you were going to come apart completely. He slung your legs over his shoulders, allowing him to hit even deeper inside you.

“Cum on me again, little dog. I want it all over my fucking dick.” He growled through his teeth.

His hand snaked down to rub at your clit gently - somehow he always touched you exactly right. He could play your body like his guitar at this point, knowing each and every spot to make you gasp and squirm.

“Ah - right there!” You cried, fucking yourself deeper onto his cock.

“Oh - you little whore.” He moaned, wrapping one hand around your throat to hold you down while he pounded into you.

Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks - you cried out at the top of your lungs as you squirted all over him.

“Oh my god.” He grunted in amazement. “You perfect fucking slut.”

His hips slammed into yours so hard it nearly hurt.

You whimpered and mewled for him, unable to form proper words as the head of his dick abused your poor overstimulated g spot.

“I should let the whole band watch me fuck you. Would you like that? Getting used in front of everyone like an animal.” He growled, raising a hand to one of your nipples to give it a sharp tug.

“Øystein, it’s too much!” You cried.

“But you were begging me to let you cum earlier,” He chuckled, “I think you can cum one more time, baby.” His hand moved down to your sore little clit to start stroking it gently. With his other hand, he pressed down on your lower stomach as he continued to rock his hips.

You sobbed at the overwhelming pleasure, barely able to form thoughts anymore. Nonsense syllables tumbled from your lips as your final orgasm was violently ripped from you.

“Oohh, fuck baby I’m gonna cum.” Øystein slurred, “Gonna get you fuckin’ pregnant.”

“Please cum inside me Øystein, pleasepleaseplease.” You begged, suddenly feeling that you would die if you didn’t get to feel him cum inside you.

Øystein’s mouth hung open, feeling your pussy clench and twitch around him drove him over the edge. He buried himself deep inside you as he came, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

He leaned down and kissed you gently before collapsing on the couch next to you to catch his breath.

“You okay baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked, reaching over to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“You blew my fucking mind, baby.” You giggled.

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist to read along with !!

songs used for inspo: No Matter What (reprise), Wolf Chase, etc...

art credit goes to Marbipa

ooh lord, my back hurts from so much from all the typing I swear once I start writing I don't stop until it's done, any whoop I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!! Try guessing who our new characters are, they'll be introduced soon!!

like always let me know if you’d like to be tagged !

prev | ch.3>>

warnings: enchanted items, fear, slight harassment, slight misogyny

word count: 2.5K

Chapter 2: The Castle

A week after departing from the village….

Mauricio happily hums a tune to himself as he directs Felipe where to go. “Ahh Felipe, can’t you taste it?? First place at the contest, I mean this contraption is very nifty, I’m sure I'll win a prize” He holds onto the reins a bit tighter as he looks around the dark woods. “Well…isn’t this lovely…if only I could recognize which woods I'm in” he says. After a while he reaches a fork in the road. He didn’t know whether to go left or to go right “well…this...is…something” he thinks for a while and looks in both directions “well then Felipe, let's go left, shall we? Let's try to get somewhere before-” Thunder rumbles in the distance..."before the storm hits.” he says while directing the horse to go on the path.

After a while the woods slowly became more spiritless, the trees started looking more shriveled, and the vegetation slowly started disappearing. The wind has picked up a bit and the thunder rumbled louder than before. Mauricio looks around a bit more and says “well where did you take us Felipe? This can’t be right?” he says blaming his decision on the poor horse. Then Howling is heard in the distance. Felipe backed up a bit looking around anxiously as he nickered some more “We should turn back around” Mauricio says.

Suddenly out of the blue he sees a wolf behind him and immediately yells “GO FELIPE GO” The Horse neighs loudly and starts galloping, Rain has started falling and lightning crackles in the sky. Mauricio didn’t even bother to look behind him as he could hear the pattering of feet and snarls behind him. He was being chased by a pack of wolves. The path in the woods slowly started disappearing and the trees became larger and thicker, the rainfall seemingly to become harder and stronger. The roots protruded in the path as the pair ran away. A branch that was in the way makes Felipe trip and fall, the wagon unlatching itself to the horse as it runs. Mauricio fell down and looked at his wagon, all of his supplies scattered, and his dear invention destroyed, but there was no time to think about that. 

He then heard a deep growl behind him and saw the wolf, he got up and ran as fast as his feet could take him and ran to the edge of a small cliff. He looked down and saw the rest of the wolves snarling at him, ready for him to jump so they could pounce at him. He sees Felipe in the distance and yells “FELIPE POR ACA, VENGA!” The horse whinnies and runs towards him, allowing Mauricio to jump and perfectly land on the horse’s back. He looks behind as he sees the pack chase him and his grip tightens on the horse’s reins. He turns back around to see a gate. “TO THE GATE FELIPE” he cries out. The horse runs as fast as its hooves can take him and the gates open allowing the pair to quickly escape and immediately closes as soon as they enter, leaving the hungry pack of wolves barking and snarling outside.

Felipe gallops until it becomes a trot as he could see a stable where he could stay. Mauricio wipes his face in relief and then gets off the horse and brings him to the stable “well let’s get you settled, at least you have some food and water…now, let me go up and uhm…” He looks up at the grandeur castle that is before him. “Greet our host...” he says in awe of the castle. As he walks up the stairs to the entrance, he wonders why can’t seem to remember this place existing or even why there was a castle here in the first place. His thoughts are replaced by the thunder booming as he needs to get inside to stay dry from the storm. 

Mauricio then arrives at the door and looks around, he can see all the lamps lit up, but nobody outside. He knocks on the door and the door creaks and opens. “Thank you, Thank-” he looks next to him and sees nobody by the door. He looks behind him as he sees the door closing on its own. Confused, he slowly walks inside the castle, he sees beside him a fireplace with a lovely chair. “Hello?” He walks a bit more and looks up and sees the intricate designs of the castle “I’m just a traveler…seeking shelter from the storm.” he says, a bit defeated. His words echo in the seemingly empty castle “Perdon por molestar…anyone home?” he says as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. The coat rack then discreetly looks behind him and shakes off some of the water off the coat to release some weight. However, in a corner at a small table a clock and candelabra stare at Mauricio. “Damn...he must have gotten lost in the woods…” The clock smacks him quickly “shut up you idiot” she whispers.

Mauricio then turns around confused, making the two stop moving. “Excuse me?”

He then slowly walks towards the table and looks at the clock. “Oh how beautiful…” He then peeks at the candelabra and picks it up “oh how extraordinary.” Music from a piano starts playing, which makes Mauricio turn around and gently place the candelabra back down on the table. Mauricio then fixes himself and walks towards the music.

“Ooh he got some taste.” 

“Relax, he was talking about me.”

Mauricio then approaches the room where the piano was and sees it playing on its own. “Oop-” the piano says as it stops playing. Mauricio looks at the piano in awe and confusion and stutters a bit over his words. He turns back around to where he originally was and goes to approach the chair by the fireplace. “Well now, wherever you are…I’m just going to sit down and warm myself by the fire. 

In the distance there was some clattering which caught Mauricio’s ear. He quickly walks towards the noise as well to find himself in a dining room that had food by a chair. “Oh, muchas gracias…I couldn’t thank you enough.” he immediately sits down and starts eating, savoring the foods and flavors in his mouth. Then as he ate, he saw a cup on a small plate slowly approach him and he looked at it in utter awe, shock, and fear. “Daddy says I wasn’t supposed to move because it's scary…..sorry” says the cup in a little girl’s voice.

Mauricio’s eyes bulged out in shock as he quickly replied “its…it's alright…” 

He then bolted out of his seat, walking as quickly as he could to the entrance “I…uh. Cannot humbly thank you for…for your hospitality” he says while taking his coat and putting it back on. “But uh it seems to me that I…uh well. Bid you...adieu…” he says with a bow while opening the door. “And uhh…good night.” He slams the door walking as fast as he could, not knowing that someone was watching the whole time. Outside, the storm has stopped, and Mauricio quickly goes to Felipe and mounts him. With a quick thwip from the reins, Felipe galloped into the gardens. “No wait, stop, stop, stop.” The horse stops and Mauricio gets off “Roses…I nearly forgot...” He approaches the rose garden and notices that they were all white, “I promised mi niñita a rose...” Mauricio walks into the garden scoping a perfect rose for Y/N unaware of the owner lurking…watching him as he walks in the rose garden. The host quietly moves from one place to another as he sees Mauricio get closer to a rose. The horse starts nickering and whinnying in anxiousness, hoping that his owner would see his warning.

Mauricio then takes a look at one rose and smiles thinking about Y/N and brings his hands up to pluck the rose, but instead pricks his thumb with a thorn. The host growls as he sees Mauricio reach in again trying to pick out the rose. Finally, Mauricio with a smile plucks the rose for Y/N but instead hears a loud thud and a roar to see the figure in front of him. Scaring him nearly half dead and making him fall on his back. He whimpers in shock and tries to back up in utter fear “HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM ME, I GIVE YOU SHELTER AND THIS IS WHAT I GET ?!”

Mauricio pleads to the monster in front of him. “N-no p-please, it was only a g-gift for my d-dau-daughter” he says while staring at him. “WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?” Mauricio stutters some more. “OH, I SEE...WE’VE COME TO STARE AT THE BEAST, HAVE WE?” Mauricio looks at him and stammers some more “n-no I didn't mean to offend. I-” A low emanating growl comes from the beast as he approaches him “CALLATE, YOU’VE DONE PLENTY…NOW YOU’RE COMING WITH ME” He takes Mauricio and drags him back inside the castle. Felipe whinnies and bucks his hind legs as he tries to get the reins off of him, eventually succeeding and running off back to the village.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later…

Ben is looking through a bush where some of the leaves have started goldening and falling off, while staring at y/n’s house. “...y/n is sure to get the shock of her life...” Ben nods at Eddie and looks at himself at the puddle next to him. “Oh yes Eddie, this is definitely her lucky day!” He looks away from the bush and turns around to see everything perfectly set up. He then clears his throat to catch everyone’s attention “I would like to thank all of you for coming to my wedding, your contributions are greatly appreciated…but now I gotta go in there and well” he clears out his throat once more “propose to the girl” he says with a chuckle. The guests chuckle and laugh as well unlike the 3 women in the corner who are weeping.

“Now you Eddie, have the most important job, when I come out the door with y/n...” 

“Yea I know, I’ll strike up the band” he says a bit disinterested. As he looks at the band and makes them quickly rehearse the wedding march. 

Back in y/n’s home however, she’s sitting on a chair happily reading her book until she hears a knock on her door. She approaches it and using her father’s invention to see outside, she notices it's Ben and she groans loudly to herself. “Ok…you can do this” she says to herself in a whisper as she opens the door. “Oh, why Ben... que sorpresa...” she says with a feigned voice of interest. 

“Why isn’t it, I'm always full of surprises,” Ben added. “You know y/n there isn’t a single woman in town who would be aching to be you right now.” Y/N backs up a bit “Oh uh…pero como?” Ben chuckles “Well, this is the day your dreams come true my dear...” he saunters his way more to get closer to her. “What do you know about my dreams, Ben?” He chuckled once more “Oh plenty, now here picture this.” He sits down on a chair and places his muddied shoes on the table. “A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill...roasting on the fire, while my pretty little wife massages my aching feet, while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs” he says while looking at her with a smoldering look. “We’ll have six or seven...”

Y/N grimaces at his words and thinks at how unbelievably daring this man is right now. “Perros?” she asks with a pained smile. “No Y/N, strong boys like me!” Y/N rolls her eyes “you...don't say...” she says now looking for some sort of exit from this situation. “Now Y/N, who do you think that little wife will be?” Y/N’s eyes widen in horror and says “erm... Uhh.. let me think…” Ben interrupts her with a grin “Why, YOU Y/N.” Y/N turns away from him quickly and backs up to the door. “Ay pero, Ben I- I’m speechless..I.. well really don’t know what to say” she says as Ben approaches her with a determined look. 

Then, by using both of his arms, Ben pins her to the door with a winning smirk “say you’ll marry me then” he says as he leans in closer to Y/N. “Perdon Ben pero…I’m uh..I just...” Ben has leaned in close enough to kiss her. In a quick attempt, Y/N uses her hand to find the door handle and opens it, quickly moving out of the way, making Ben surprised and fall into a puddle of mud. 

Eddie on the other hand only hears the door open and signals for the band to start playing. He then directs the band for a bit and then hears something moving. He turns around to see Ben completely covered in mud “soo uh…Imma take that as a no...” Ben, enraged, looks into Eddie’s eyes and mutters to him “I WILL have Y/N as my wife, make no mistake about that” he states, as he begrudgingly walks away in embarrassment from the rejection, he just took in front of his wedding guests. 

After the commotion dies down, Y/N peeks out of her front door and looks around “Is he gone ??” She looks down to confirm that Ben is gone and walks outside to feed her chickens “I can’t believe him, ME? To be the wife of that headstrong, boorish, conceited man.” She grabs the chicken feed and throws it everywhere in annoyance “imagínate, señorita riley, just imagine, his little wife.” She throws the bucket of chicken feed to the ground. “I need some place to scream.” 

A few minutes later she ran on top of a hill and layed in the field of dandelions. “My dreams? What does he know about my dreams… I want adventure, I want it so much that I can’t imagine someone else imagining it.” She quietly lays in the grass for a while longer and plucks a dandelion and blows it, watching the seeds spread in the wind. “I want so much more than this tiny village,” she says to herself. “If only someone could understand...” She sighs and closes her eyes, taking in the air from her surroundings. She inhales once again but then stops as she hears whinnying in the distance. She turns around and gets up as she spots Felipe in the distance. 

“Felipe, I- what's wrong?” She looks around to see that there was no wagon and especially her father. “Dónde está papá ?” she says as she tries to calm down the horse. "Where is he Felipe, what happened?!”. 

She took hold of his reins and frantically responded “Please, we must go find him, Take me to him !!” She takes Felipe back home quickly to grab her cloak and to replace the horse’s broken reins. Once she does, she mounts Felipe and takes control as she rides out to the woods to find her father.

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @corpsebridenightamare, @m4dyy,

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Toys (Vox x Brat!reader)

I’m back on my bullshit again! This time, with more Vox smut! It’s been a bit, so it might be lower quality than usual, I haven’t decided. This is also technically within the Be a Doll universe, it’s just not with doll!reader, this is a different one.

CW: smut, obviously. Degradation, Bondage- okay, just BDSM overall, overstimulation, sex toys, etc. you get the idea.

I stepped into Vox's office and saw him sitting in front of a bunch of TV's showing different views around hell. He didn’t even bother to look at me.

"What the hell do you want? I'm busy!”

“You’re the asshole that called me in!” I muttered, throwing my hands in the air, exasperated. “God, why do you have to be such a dick all the time?”

The TV demon chuckled at my frustration, finally tilting his head to look me in the eyes. "Ah, there you are. I did call you in, didn't I?" He paused, his grin growing wider. "Come here, babydoll. I need your help with something.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever,” I mumbled walking over. I didn’t notice the bulge in his pants. “I just don’t get an apology? Great. Fantastic. You��re such a fucking prick, you know that?”

I continued to walk closer and closer to the demon, who watched you hungrily. He licked his lips as I finally got to him. "Apologies? I never apologize." He took my hand and gently placed it on the noticeable bulge in his pants.

I immediately pulled away. “Fuck!” I yelped, taking a step back. I hadn’t been expecting that. I was new, a new worker, a new assistant, a new soul of his. I didn’t know how things worked around here. “You can’t- don’t- stop that! No, no, no! This is not something I’m helping you with. No.”

Despite my protests, the demon's grin only got wider. His grip around my wrist tightened as he guided my hand back to his pants. "Oh, come on now doll. Don't be shy. You know you want to." His voice was low and sultry.

“I really don’t,” I muttered, struggling against his grip. Okay, so maybe I did want him. maybe I got off, imagining him fucking me sometimes- sometimes being nearly every single goddamn time I masturbated. That was irrelevant right now though. “Fuck off.”

His grip tightens further as he yanked me closer. "You sass-mouthed little shit. You have no idea who you're dealing with." His left eye turned to a red and black spiral he attempted to hypnotize me. “Come on doll... don't fight it.”

“Don’t,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I stomped on his foot and tried to get away. “Leave me alone!”

He released a loud growl as he stumbled back, clearly surprised by my sudden act of rebellion. "You're gonna fucking regret that!"

“Yeah, sure, we’ll see about that,” I replied coldly, taking a step back. God, I wanted him so fucking bad. I wasn’t going to admit it, of course. That would only satisfy him, and that was the last thing I wanted right now. “Everyone knows you’re all bark, no bite, you egotistical little shit.”

His eyes narrowed as he took a step forward, an air of danger surrounding him. "You think you can talk to me like that, and get away with it?" He reached out, grabbing my arm and holding me in place. He sent a jolt of electricity through me and watched as I writhed in pain.

“F-fuck you,” I hissed.

"Oh, you're gonna fucking beg for it soon enough," He said, grinning as he pulled me closer and slammed his lips against mine. His tongue invaded my mouth hungrily as he started walking backwards, pulling me into the nearest room. "Get on your fucking knees."

“No!” I said, trying to pull away. I didn’t succeed.

His grip tightened on my arm and he threw me down onto the floor. He towered over me, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Do as I fucking say and maybe I won't punish you too badly." He grinned, watching me struggle and try to get up. He snapped his fingers and cables wrapped around me, holding me in place on the ground. “God, you’re such a brat.”

“Let me go!” I said, moving against the bondage. “I’m never going to do as you say, you worthless piece of shit! let me go!”

He laughed as he watched me squirm against the cables. "You think you're fucking untouchable, don't you?" He said, staring down at me as he reached down and caressed my cheek roughly. "Let me tell you something, sweetheart. I can and will break you.” He placed a vibrator between my legs and turned it on. “And I’ll enjoy every single moment of it. You want to be a brat? You’ll be punished.”

“I hate y-you,” I said, struggling to maintain my composure.

Vox grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Good. I hate you too, you little bitch." He said, laughing as he increases the intensity of the vibrator. "I've been waiting to get my hands on you for a long time.”

“Mmngh,” I mumbled, squirming and trying to get out of the cables. my face flushed red. I hated how good it felt, how my walls were clenching around nothing. “Stop… stop it…”

He watched me, his eyes blazing with desire. "I’m going to make to make you cry and beg for more like the little whore you are," He said, grinning maliciously as he leaned down close to my ear, undoing my pants and sliding them down. "You're enjoying it. I can tell.” He glanced at my slick cunt, delighted with the power he held over me.

“F-fuck,” I said, gasping softly. “Fffuck y-you… asshole…”

His eyes lit up at my words. "You like to curse, don't you?" He asked, laughing as he inserted another toy in me. "You're so turned on right now. Don't lie to yourself.

“I-I hate… mmmnn,” I moaned softly, unable to stop myself. I squirmed, trying to get some friction, my body tensing, desperate. “fuck, fuck- ffffuck…” I groaned, feeling myself peak.

He watched me squirm and couldn't help but smirk. "See? You can't even form a coherent thought right now." He teased, inserting a finger into my dripping wet pussy, crooking it against the wall. "Just let go.”

I gasped and orgasmed, tears pricking my eyes. He didn’t get rid of the toys, and he didn’t turn off the vibrator.

He chuckled as he leaned in, whispering into my ear. "That was just the beginning. I know you can take more. You're still so wet for me." He murmured, removing his finger before inserting a bigger toy that vibrated intensely. "Still going?"

“Please, p-please,” I whined, squirming, moving, desperately hoping he’d stop. “Please, I’m- I’m s-sorry.. it- it won’t happen again…”

He smirked, turning up the vibrations even higher. "I don't think you understand... this is exactly what I want. You begging and panting for me." He purred, leaning down to breathe hotly against my neck.

“Mmngh,” I moaned, grinding against his leg. “P-please, please…”

He laughed, using his free hand to rub my clit as he teased me with the toy. "I love how you beg for me. It's such a turn on. Just imagine what I can do with that desperate energy,” he murmured.

He kept doing this, kept teasing me, kept me overstimulated. I cummed and cummed and cummed, rubbing myself against him, moaning, begging, tears in my eyes. “please, please, daddy, please…” I groaned, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, p-please I can’t… I can’t cum anymore, p-p-please daddy…”

He grinned at my desperation, enjoying the way I begged for him. "I think you can. I think you're going to cum for me again and again, until I say you can stop."

“p-please,” I begged. I cummed again, and moaned, tears streaming down my face. “Please daddy… mnn… I’ll be good… I’ll… I’ll be a good girl, please… mnngh..mmnn..”

He chuckled at my pleading, loving every moment of it. "Oh, I know you'll be a good girl for me, doll." He continued to use the toy on me, pushing me further into bliss until I was an incoherent mumbling mess, unable to think, my mind blank with pleasure.

[ohbabydollie]

some schlatt n latina reader hcs bc i can and i’ve never seen them done and it js makes sense in my mind

he absolutely loves celebrating holidays with you, especially in the winter time

“cut a small piece schlatt” you warn looking at him “but i want a big-” “i swear to god, if you get the baby” you threaten as he cuts a large chunk and starts eating it with his chocolate abuelita before suddenly stopping as you raise a brow at him

he spits something into his napkin

“le tocó el bebé! (he got the baby!)” your tía cheers as you stare at him

“you should’ve eaten it” you huff jokingly

he will speak to your family in spanish and understands them which is a first from a partner of yours and they like it very much

he’s loves the food

especially caldos y sopas

n stuff made mostly in the winter time (100% asks for caldo de pollo on the hottest day known to man)

now refuses to drink regular pack hot chocolate after drinking chocolate de abuelita and makes you make it for him when he’s craving some

like will eat 2-5 bowls of pozole if given the chance with tostadas

“mamá ya, he’s had enough to eat” you say picking up his bowl of pozole before your mom takes it “pero míralo, tiene hambre(but look at him, he looks hungry)” she says serving him some more “no le das de comer o que? (you don’t feed him or what?)” she asks placing the plate down as he grins making you roll your eyes

your tias y abuelitas LOVE him from how much he eats and how he’ll sit around gossiping and talking with them for hours

your younger siblings or cousins absolutely adore him, from gaming to playing soccer with him and will ask for him when he doesn’t come with you to a dinner or party

yk how they rent out bouncy houses for birthday parties

he’s helping the kids tipping them over and will unplug the bouncy house to mess with them as they start to yell

“why are you here? did jay come?” your nephew asks looking up at you as his mom smacks him on the head “pide la bendición primero menso (ask for blessing first dumbass)”

some of your family didn’t really understand his career at first until after he explained that making and posting videos makes him money along with his other businesses

“soy muy trabajador y tengo dos negocios (im very hard working and i have two business)” he explains as your family nods, especially your tios, in approval

speaking of tios, they didn’t like him at first

kinda standing there judging him silently, beer in hand until they offered him one and he responded in spanish

now they’re asking when the both of you plan on getting married, especially after hearing how “hard working” he is

has a love-hate relationship with the crusty white dogs or chihuahuas your family has

they will bark, bite and nip at him until he stops trying to pet and hold them

god forbid one of them claimed you as their favorite person because he is not allowed in your vicinity at all

“be nice, es tu papi (he’s your daddy)” you say, the dog growling at schlatt while schlatt gives it the cockiest grin “soy tu papi nuevo (im your new daddy)” he says going to pet the dog as it tries to bite his finger

makes jokes about you using him for a green card, money, etc. but won’t push your boundaries at all

“it’s either bisexual or bipolar and i chose bipolar when it comes with a fat ass in forbidden pants” schlatt tells the chat as you come in, handing him something to eat and walk out as he watches you, “yeah the red flags are looking green when you’re seeing them from behind”

likes your attitude, just the witty comebacks n stuff

especially when you’re around his friends and say something in spanish that will have him flustered while they ask for him to translate

if he ever genuinely makes you upset he’s at your feet, apologizing

“please please please please” he begs, on the floor “jay, it’s fine” you say crossing your arms in the way he knows it means its not fine “POR FAVOR (PLEASE) Y/N, ILL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT” he begs, pulling out his wallet

is probably the biggest simp known to man for you

will use anything as an excuse to show you off, like anything

even gifts, he’ll take a photo of the gift and post it along side a selfie you sent him just to show you off some more

flexes you to everyone from his friends to chat

“what does the schirlfriend look like?” he reads off, immediately grabbing his phone to show off the new lock screen he has of you “hot as fuck, i’ll tell you that for sure”

might write some more if u guys want it :3

[faux-ecrivain]

What kinda yan would utterly adore a werewolf reader

(Good question and Thank you for the request/ask Anon number 7)

(Twentieth Official Post)

————————————————————When the sun sets and the full moon rises your body begins to experience changes, changes that cause your Yandere to experience a potentially interesting reaction..

———————————————————————-

Yan Crossdresser; would have mixed feelings, because he loves brushing your fur when you turn, but you make such a mess, you’re always shedding hair and sometimes you destroy furniture. Which really irritates him, because he may be well-off but his money isn’t endless. Usually when you starts misbehaving (ie destroying furniture, waking up the neighbors, digging up yards and etc) he punishes you with the dog house. That’s right, he’ll put you in a large doghouse and keep you in there until you’ve learned your lesson. So, usually when you turn he has a leash and collar close by (at all times).

———————————————————————-

Yan Neko; absolutely hates it when you turn, mostly because you’re a large dog and you bark at him whenever you turn. But, also because you chase him around and start fights with him. He also hates dogs, like any dogs. Usually when you turn he starts hissing at you and growling, he’ll even snarl at you and if you don’t get away from him (and stay far away) then the claws will come out, and he’ll attack you. Which happens very time you turn and usually ends up with the two of you in a whole lot of pain..

——————————————————————-

Yan Idol; before he’s abducted you;wouldn’t have any strong feelings toward this revelation, but he will try to take care of you and prevent your secret from getting out| After he’s abducted you; he would hold it over your head and insist that by keeping you imprisoned in his home, he’s keeping you and everyone else safe. And when you’ve turned he usually has you chained up and muzzled, this is because whenever you transform you have a habit of trying to attack him, and since he has no desire to be mauled, he’ll try to stay as far as possible. Of course, he’ll still take care of you, but he’s not going near you (no matter how much he wants to cuddle you large furry body!) Does he adore it? Yes, he does, but he hates punishing you.

———————————————————————

Yan Baby-sitter; He’s be in even more awe of you. Not only do you have some sort of supernatural ability to save him from demons, but you’re an actual supernatural being! He’d pamper you, if you’re hungry when you’ve transform he’ll hunt you the best meals (which you gleefully devour)! If you’re tired then he’ll fluff your pillows and cover you in the largest, comfiest  blanket he can find (he’ll swaddle you in a blanket and wrap it around you so tight, that you won’t be able to slash at him). If you’re in a playful mood, he’ll play whatever game you want (even chase, which usually means he gets chased by you because he keeps hugging you, but eh to him it’s the same thing)! So, I would say that Yan Baby-sitter would be the most likely to adore you!

———————————————————————

Yan Cheater; He’ll use it to bribe you, although it doesn’t work very well (because in his world werewolves aren’t real), but it won’t stop him. Plus, when you do transform he goes out of his way to incapacitate you (usually with a form of food or pets!) and take care of you. He tries to show you that he can take care of you and that you should get back with him, because he really does love you (no he doesn’t). He tries his best to be kind to you, but your disobedience and animalistic behavior does irritate him and often causes him to punish you (typically by feeding you flavorless dog food, locking you up in a dog cage and by taking away your toys.). Does he adore your werewolfness? He thinks it’s cute, but views it as a bit of a nuisance (this is because you like to try and bite him when he comes near you).

—————————————————————

Yan Reader; His favorite author is a werewolf? And he’s the only that knows? Wow! That must mean you trust him, right?! He finds your werewolf form super cute! How does he know about it? Well, he installed cameras in your house some time ago, so he can see everything that happens in your home. Anyways, he desperately wishes to be beside you and to support you throughout your temporary change, but he doesn’t want to scare you, so he sends gifts that he hopes will help you out during your transformation. Does he adore it? Yes, he does.

———————————————————————-

Yan Roommate; thinks that your werewolf instincts might explain your overprotective behavior and since He wants to show you his gratitude, he takes care of you during you time as a werewolf. He brushes your fur, feeds you fulfilling meals and makes sure that no one outside your apartment takes notice of your strange behavior or the howls you release when you’re hungry. Does he adore it? Somewhat, he thinks your fur is soft and he loves brushing through it (it’s calming to him). He wonders if your kids know..

———————————————————————

Yan Neighbor; Well, when he had you he found your werewolfen tendencies to be a nuisance as you’re a very destructive dog. He contemplates locking you away for the duration of your transformation, but knows that doing so would be counterproductive. Which causes him to tolerate your change and take care of you during it. Does he adore it? No, not really, he isn’t a big fan of dogs and only takes care of you for your approval.

———————————————————————

Yan Emperor; He thinks it’s adorable and he holds it over your add, he knows that the nobles would further disapprove of your affliction and he knows you’ll do anything to keep it a secret. So, whenever you’re on the verge of transforming he’ll invite you over and will watch as you struggle to prevent your transformation. Of course, since he doesn’t want anyone to know about your curse, he’ll lend you a room to stay in and will make an excuse for whatever noble dares to inquire about you. Then when you do transform he’ll go to your room (after you’ve calmed down that is) and begin to drown you in affection. He’ll make you very uncomfortable, because even in your wolf form he’s always touching you (usually he’s petting your ears, rubbing your belly or brushing your fur). Not to mention, your pretty sure he has a strange attachment to your wolf form (mostly because he views it as a sign of strength and it means you’ll be able to defend him and any children you might have. Even though he’s perfectly capable of doing that). Does he adore it? Absolutely, he likes big animals and has many paintings with you sitting by his side in your wolf form. He even gifted you a diamond studded leash (one that’s your favorite color of course) and a matching leash (yes, he walks you around the grounds with that leash and if anyone asks, he says it’s his pet wolf).

———————————————————————-

Yan Duke (a character not yet written); He adores most animals and already admires you because you’re a General, and have won many wars. But, to learn that you’ve been undergoing such an affliction whilst maintaining your pride ,and ignoring all the ignorant remarks from other nobles, well he thinks you’re an amazing person. His admiration for you is upped by ten and he enjoys running his hands through fur. One of his favorite pastimes would be brushing your fur, he’s gentle, of course, and often spoils you with snout kisses. He has a whole room dedicated for you to use when you transform, it’s a cushy room with all the necessities your little doggy heart could ever want. Does he adore it? Yep, he loves it and often has you sleep on his bed when you transform.

———————————————————————-

1950s Househusband (yes, it he is a yan); He was surprised, his cute next door neighbor is a werewolf? He didn’t expect that, but he doesn’t mind. He’a actually quite happy to learn such a secret about you, he’s even more gleeful to learn that your trust him enough with this information. When you do transform, he goes out of his way to take care of you. He’ll pat your head, rub your belly, brush your fur and fed you gourmet meals. Although, he does get a bit upset when you jump on the furniture and shed your fur. He even scolds you, although he doesn’t mean anything when he says it. Does he adore it? Not initially, he was a bit turned off by it (he’s not a big fan of furry animals that shed), but he grew to appreciate that quirky trait or yours. Now he has no qualms about coming over and helping you through the whole process, although he has to work extra hard to keep his spouse from finding out about it.

———————————————————————

Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; He wants nothing to do with you, sure he says he loves you, but he won’t be there if you need him during the transformation. However, if you do transform in front of him and you won’t let him leave (for whatever reason, maybe you’re extra possessive in wolf form or maybe you’re scared he’ll reveal your secret), and he has no choice but to take care of you, then he’ll do it. Reluctantly he’ll take care of you, but only because there’s a chance you can bite his hand off and he doesn’t want that. However, when you’re back to normal, he’ll go back to trying  to get revenge on you. (He won’t use your wolf form against you, because no one’s going to believe him.) Foes he adore it? Not really, he doesn’t care for you and only bothers you because he has control issues.

———————————————————————

Yan Darling; He thinks it’s a cute bonus, he likes to braid your fur and put you in cute dog clothes. When you transform he won’t let anything make you uncomfortable and will only give you the best. After all, you’re his savior and he wants you to know how much he appreciates everything you do. He’ll have you sleep in his bed and he’ll take you on walks. Of course, he pouts when you turn back to normal, mostly because he doesn’t get to dote on you anymore (human you doesn’t like any extra attention). Does he adore it? Absolutely, he loves it and if he had his way, he’d keep you like that for a longer amount of time!

———————————————————————-

As for a Yan made specifically for a werewolf reader, well it would have to be a Yan that’s into a werewolf reader. It’d have to be a Yan that’s into the supernatural and would absolutely utterly adore having a werewolf lover. Especially if you spent all your transformation with him and every other wolf related moment with him. A Yan that’s into the supernatural would probably go out of their way to please a werewolf reader. The Yan would probably gift you collars, dog toys, Gourmet food and everything a little (large) wolf dog would enjoy!

———————————————————————-

Bonus; What the Yans would call werewolf reader;

Yan Crossdresser; would call you my adorable furry little/giant baby and give you ear scratches

Yan Neko; would snarl and call you a filthy disgusting pathetic little mutt then start a fight with you 

Yan Idol; would call you my cute little wolf, but wouldn’t go near you

Yan Baby-sitter; My wonderful/adorable furbaby and would attempt to hug you only for you to growl at him

Yan Cheater; calls you a bad dog when you misbehave and calls you a good dog when you behave

Yan Reader; would never be able to call you anything, but if he could then he’d call you my cute fuzzy friend

Yan Roommate; would call you my big fuzzy baby (even though you aren’t one)

Yan Neighbor; would call you a nuisance dog and lament about the fur your shedding

Yan Emperor; would call you my cute little mutt and my adorable little angel, my strong little furbaby and would just generally call you a good wolf

Yan Duke; would probably call you a good doggo, would also call you my favorite little buddy and my cute cuddly little mutt

1950s Househusband; would also call you a good dog when you behave and a bad dog when you misbehave, but would also call you the cutest wolf in existence 

Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; would simply call you a mutt and get mad at you because you tore up his favorite pillow

Yan Darling; would call you his biggest baby and would call you a furbaby, if he’s mad he’ll call you a bad wolf and lecture you about being on your best behavior

Yan Fan of the Supernatural; would call you the cutest wolf ever and would try to domesticate you every time they saw you

———————————————————————

(Yes, the Yans are intent on domesticating you and yes they do have a dog bowl with your name on it.)

(I hope this fit your request and I apologize if it wasn’t very well written.)

(Hope you enjoyed this, it took me like 3-4 hours to write and I’m kind of proud of it.)

(Anthony wasn’t here and Samuel wasn’t here because they aren’t technically yanderes.)

[rae-writes]

Hello I hope both side of your pillow are cold, and your earphones never tangled can I please request a hate/angry sex, make out etc with mephi? Like mc and him keep saying how much they hate and insult each other but can't stop themselves from doing the devil tango >:D I think some hair pulling is lowkey kinky and hot too-

nsfw <3

Imagine hating the stupid, arrogant, and uppity noble that parades around like Diavolo's lapdog, ruining everyone's moods and always getting in the way of others just for a 'scoop'. You hate him, you really really hate him, but there was just something about the almost desperate growl that left him when you irritably yanked his hair in passing.

And Mephisto hates you, he really really hates you- the stupid exchange student that everyone calls an Angel, who he thinks is just an over-glorified waste of time. And yeah, sure, the pain washing over his scalp felt electrifying, and yeah, the growl he let out sounded kind of desperate because he hasn't been touched like that in so long, but...so what? He hates you.

Even when you're lip locked, pushing and shoving at each other in one of the closets of RAD, and even when you bite his bottom lip so sharply it starts to bleed as he finally manages to pin you to the wall. He hates you, which is why he's digging his fangs into your skin, locking his jaw until he's sure it'll leave a horrendous bruise, promptly ignoring the way you dig your nails into him in retaliation.

"I hate you", you snarl, kicking at his knee so he falls to the ground with a groan. "I fucking hate you." your eyes are practically overflowing with negative emotion as you shove him on his back, hands being purposefully too rough with unbuckling his belt and snapping open the button of his slacks (barking out a laugh when it ends up breaking).

"Shut the fuck up." Mephisto's just as rough with slamming you down onto him, not caring that your hands ball up and begin hitting at his chest when he starts a filthy sounding pace as soon as he's sheathed. "I hate you more."

Yeah, he hates you, even when his hips stutter pathetically and he's whining as he paints your insides white, effectively filling you to the brim (after you spitefully took a fistful of purple locks and yanked until his eyes rolled white).

And yeah, you hate him, even when you're finishing your day at RAD with him leaking out of you and especially when you're shoving your fingers in his mouth before leaving, making him choke on your combined tastes with a smirk (definitely not planning on leaving your cum-soiled underwear on his office desk the next time he dares to back you in a corner).

[jungle-angel]

The One With The Fertility Field (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett decide to have some fun in the back field but you have no idea that it's been the Abbott family fuck spot for generations

Warnings: Smut, implied smut, several generations of fucking, trying for a kid, pet discipline etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @callmemana @sebsxphia

You moaned loudly as Rhett thrust himself in and out of you, attacking your neck, his animalistic grunting and groaning obscene as it married together with your own noises.

"C'mon baby," he growled. "C'mon I know you've got it in ya, c'mon and cum for daddy!"

His big hands pawed along your thighs and with one more thrust, you both released onto and into each other, panting and out of breath as you came to rest, one on top of the other.

"Holy fuck," Rhett panted. "You're amazing baby."

You giggled a little as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting you rest against him.

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

Cecelia quietly sang along to "Mule Skinner Blues" as it played from the little bluetooth speaker on the counter near the coffee machine. Dinner prep may not have been hers or anyone's favorite part of the day, but at least she had some time to herself and could enjoy most of the peace and quiet before everyone came in for the night.

The peace and quiet was suddenly broken by the opening of a door and the sudden barking of a small dog in the living room. "Hey!" Cecelia shouted. "Shut the fuck up Alberto! You're ok."

Alberto, the little black and tan chihuahua dog leapt from the couch to go and beg for scritches from Royal who hung his hat on the hook and kicked off his boots near the rack.

"Somethin smells pretty good sugar bear," he remarked, Alberto's barking having reached fever pitch.

"Here," Cecelia said, handing him the cardboard paper towel roll. "Use this if you need to."

Luckily, Royal only had to snap his fingers and the little dog sat right down, his little batlike ears pricking straight up and his tail thumping on the floor. "Quit bein a little turd Alberto, nobody wants to hear it," Royal told him.

Alberto yawned and followed him into the kitchen, hopping up onto one of the seats as Royal wrapped his arms around Cecelia and kissed her cheek. "Any idea where (y/n) and Rhett are at?" he asked.

"Nope," Cecelia answered. "Last I heard they were goin for a ride into town and haven't seen head or tail of'em since."

With those last words, the door creaked open and shut once again, Alberto's barking starting again. "Alberto! For shit's sake, knock it off!" Rhett ordered. "I will stick ya'll downstairs so fuckin fast......!"

Alberto finally quit his yapping when you came over to give him scritches behind the ears. You went upstirs to wash up for dinner, hobbling and limping just a little bit, the same going for Rhett.

"You two ok?" Cecelia asked, trying to hide the smile that threatened to crawl across her face.

"M'fine, Ma," Rhett answered. "Why?"

"Well for one thing you and (y/n) were walkin a little funny."

"Walked into a fencepost in the back field Ma," Rhett told her.

"Sure ya did," Royal chuckled as he stirred the pot of meatballs simmering in the marinara sauce. "There ain't no fence near there and hasn't been since the day your Ma and I moved here."

"Wait, which field?" Cecelia asked Rhett.

"Um......the back one near the river towards the north pasture," Rhett answered hesitantly.

Cecelia's eyes went wide and Royal started laughing. "Oh my God," he laughed. "No way, ain't no fuckin way ya'll walked into a fencepost."

"Dad what the hell's so funny?" Rhett asked him.

"Rhett that field was the same field your Ma and I did the nasty in when we were tryin to have you?"

"OH MY GOD!!! DAD WHY??? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU TELL ME THIS???!!!!!" Rhett blurted out.

"I'm tellin ya because that's where at least four generations of Abbotts were conceived," Royal told him. "Including you and Perry."

"Perry wasn't conceived there," Cecelia reminded him.

"He wasn't?" Royal asked.

"Nah, Perry was conceived in the back seat of your '76 Firebird," Cecelia told him. "I remember because that was the night we went to the drive-in to see 'Conan The Barbarian.'"

"Oh fucking damnit," Rhett said, making a gagging noise.

"What's going on down here?" you asked. "Did I miss something."

"Nope, nope, change of subject," Rhett answered.

"Oh we were just tellin Rhett that ya'll might've stumbled on mine and Royal's favorite fuck spot," Cecelia answered.

You shrieked a little, laughing at the traumatized and exasperated look on your husband's face. The four of you had a good laugh about it over dinner, not daring to say a word in front of Amy lest she repeat it outside of the house.

Yet Royal and Cecelia hadn't been wrong when they had said that a little adventure in the so called "fertility field" would work, for a few days later, you and Rhett were all too happy to find out that Amy would be the proudest big sister in Wabang.

[kentosovertime]

𝕖𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕤𝕥; (n.) someone who only pretends to smile

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤… when geto and gojo grow apart, resulting in their break up, gojo finds friendship and belonging with you and when geto returns he decides he wants you for himself 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕠… 0.7k wc, college!au series, satosugu, geto x gojo x afab!reader, explicit content and language, includes themes of manipulation, jealousy, angst, spiteful behavior, etc. sfw, emotionally constipated men, break up, arguments 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣… reblogs and likes are appreciated 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥… send me an ask (link) if you want to be tagged

𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕥𝕒𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕒𝕤𝕜 𝕓𝕠𝕩

“I can’t keep doing this Sugu’.” Satoru yells, the impassive look on Geto’s face only drawing him further into anger. “I need you to give me anything but this!” “I don’t know what to tell you, Satoru.” Geto frowns deeply. What else could he do? He was walking this path for the two of them and Satoru was going to complain? 

“You’re never around anymore!” He growls in frustration, his arms flying out in frustration. Why can’t he see that not having him around is bleeding the life from his soul? 

“How do you expect me to help support us once we graduate, Satoru?” He scowls, he thought that Satoru understood why he accepted this job on top of his internship for school. 

“And how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to work so hard when I have more than enough to-” He starts to raise his voice more, edging on anger at this point but Geto finally snaps.

“Enough to what?” He steps forward, his voice bouncing off the apartment walls. “Enough to set us up for life while your family sneers down their fucking noses at us? Not only am I not born rich, they can’t stand that we’re together! Can’t give them a grandbaby when you have a gold digger pegging your ass, can you?.”

“I told you that I don’t care about what they think!” He screams, his eyes watering when Geto’s words hit deep in his heart. “I only want you! I want you home. I’m tired of missing you, of waiting to see you a couple times a month only to have you too exhausted to do anything but sleep. You’re running yourself ragged!” 

Geto can’t help but bark a laugh in Satoru’s face.

“You’re so fucking clingy, Satoru! Get it through your thick fucking skull that this is only for a year or so. If I have to put in the work now and sacrifice other areas of my life then I will!” 

Satoru flinches as if Geto had slapped him across the face. Something drops in his stomach hearing him say he’d sacrifice this relationship for the sake for getting ahead. That wasn’t something that he’d do to Geto ever.

“Then I’m done.” Satoru’s voice cracks, filled with sorrow as he chokes the words out, not wanting to, but needing them. “I’m. Done.”

“The fuck do you mean by that.” Geto scowls and glares at Satoru. He can’t be serious right now. “Stop with the fucking dramatics, Satoru. Now isn’t the-” 

“I’m serious.” Geto watches as Satoru’s face starts shutting down, the emotion that was so present earlier starting to hide behind walls that he can see him constructing to keep the hurt from his heart. It reminds him of when they met in high school, how distant he was having to protect himself from the harsh expectations of his family. 

“No, no.” He starts to panic, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. “Satoru. We’ve talked about this! This is only temporary. I’m still yours-” 

“And I’m not waiting for you.” He says simply, his voice as monotonous as Geto’s when this conversation has started. Funny how when it comes down to the damage control, Geto was the least composed of the two of them. “I’m not going to wait around for you to realize I’m not something to push aside and ignore for over a year and expect me to still be waiting for you.” 

The image of Satoru turning away from him would forever be seared into his mind. The helplessness freezes him in place as Satoru disappears into the bedroom and quickly comes back out with his school bag, shoving an extra pair of clothing inside and zipping it shut before he flings it over his shoulder and heads to the door. 

“We’re not done talking about this!” Geto pleads with him, the firmness in his voice wavering as Satoru doesn’t look up from where he’s putting on his shoes. “‘Toru-”

“Too bad.” He snaps and slams the front door behind him, shattering Geto’s heart into a thousand tiny fragments. 

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @silversslut @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @rafzaha @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @saoney @pelicanpizza @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo @kibananya @reine-son @wallflower010 @tobaccosunbxrst @maskedpacific[[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[definitelynotstable]

Matching [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: My essay is due tomorrow at 5pm and I still haven’t started. I’m really trying my luck here. 

Synopsis: You and your Lieutenant manage to get matching wounds. A certain Scottish sergeant finds it amusing. Word count: 930 Warnings: Canon compliant violence, blood, guns, field medicine etc Ghost x fem!reader (callsign Red): No explicit romance but the chemistry is there babes. Veeeeery slight angst but mostly fluff. 

[][][][][][][][][][]

“You’re an idiot,” the Lieutenant gritted out as he tore your pant leg. If you hadn’t been so out of it you might’ve found it hot.

“Save the lecture for later, LT.” You groan as he wraps his belt around your upper thigh, pulling it tight as a makeshift tourniquet. “Suffering enough as is, yeah?”

He mutters something intelligible under his breath, shaking his head as he gives the belt one last tug. You hiss in surprise, batting weakly at his firm grip. He defends himself easily, shoving your arms back against your sides.

“Hold still,” he growls sternly and you still your wriggling. His eyes sharp and hard. No room for argument. 

Bullets thud and ricochet off of the crate the Lieutenant has dragged you behind. Happy with the tourniquet, he settles you against the wall, leg stretched out in front of you. 

“Stay.”

You scoff at the order but do as he says. Ghost turns his back to you, inching forwards to fire a round back at the hostiles. There’s a yell and a thump. The constant fire ceases. The Lieutenant edges around the crate, gun poised. 

“Bravo, this is Ghost. Main atrium is clear.”

“Copy, LT. We heard disturbance through Red’s comms, you seen her?”

You reach for your comms before the Lieutenant has a chance to reply. “I’m with the LT, nothing major, Gaz.”

Ghost scoffs, you glare at him. 

“Copy that, Red. Moving in now, LT.”

Ghost nods, hand against his ear. “Copy. We’ll cover you.”

You press your hands against the cool brick behind you, stumbling to your feet. You grab the ACR leaning against the wall next to you, slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Think you’ll last, sergeant?” The Lieutenant’s eyes are questioning, watching as you limp over to his side. He’d call EXFIL if you even gave him the slightest indication you couldn’t soldier on. 

So you grin, giving the stoic man a clap on the back. “We’ve got a terrorist to catch, LT.”

[][][][][][][][][][]

The Lieutenant’s pace is fast and unwavering. Bodies fall and bullets ping as you clear the hallways of the compound, providing cover for Bravo team who were attempting to secure the HVT. 

“On my six, Red.” Ghost barks, sending a round into the second atrium. The room is teaming with hostiles. Your leg throbs with a heartbeat of its own but do as your asked while the Lieutenant readies a flashbang. He lobs it into the room, ducking around the corner to take cover. You step past him, firing a couple of rounds at the flailing hostiles. 

A classic stun-’n-gun. 

Ghost joins you, providing cover as you together clear the room. 

“Bravo this is Red,” you pant in exertion, pressing a gloved finger to your comms, “second atrium is clear, copy?”

“Copy.” Soap’s accent is strong as he responds, “Target acquired, heading to EXFIL now.”

You raise your hand to reply when you catch a movement out of the corner of your eyes, a hostile on the floor fumbles for his gun. Someone barrels into you. Pain flares through your leg you hit the ground. You manage to send a bullet into his skull, the man slumps back, dead.

Ghost groans from where he lies atop you. You grit your teeth, shoving him over. “Christ, LT. Buy a girl a drink first.”

The Lieutenant huffs, clutching at his leg. “Noted.”

You notice the crimson soaking his right thigh, swearing under your breath and ignoring the pain in your own leg, you bat his hands away. Loosing your belt, you work it up his leg; just as he’d done for you earlier. 

“Eager to match, hm?” You joke, pulling the belt tight around his upper thigh. Exactly where his own belt sat on your own leg. Ghost doesn’t make a sound but his jaw clenches beneath his mask. The blood flow slows and you sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He breathes, clambering to his feet, “Johnny’ll have a right laugh when he sees us.”

You nod, breathing sharply as you put pressure on your leg. Ghost takes note immediately, kneeling back at your side. He grips the belt around your own thigh, meeting your eyes with a questioning gaze. You bite your lip but give him quick jut of your chin. The Lieutenant gives the make-shift tourniquet a sharp yank and you yelp, grasping his shoulder to prevent yourself from falling over. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing your calf for a second before dusting off his hands and returning to his feet once again. 

“Don’t worry about it, LT,” you assure him with a quick quirk of your lips, “matching, remember?”

[][][][][][][][][][]

Soap’s guffaw as he spots you both stumble towards the heli is music to your ears. 

“Now this’ll be a good story,” he chortles, racing over with Gaz who wraps an arm behind your back. Soap deposits Ghost in the seat opposite you, kneeling at the Lieutenant’s side as Gaz kneels at yours - a medkit open beside them. 

You sigh, resting your head against the rattling metal of the chopper as it starts its ascent. Your tired eyes meet Ghost’s, his cobalt irises twinkling. The Lieutenant pulls his mask up slightly, revealing his smirking mouth.

“Told you,” He mouths before yanking it back down, mirroring you and leaning back as Soap cuts away at his pant leg. 

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tired smile from settling over your lips.

[][][][][][][][][][]

Masterlist

[weaselle]

20+ year veteran of the restaurant industry, solved how to never have problems about service dogs with this one easy trick

let me help all of you who work in restaurants and struggle with interactions between customers who lie about their dog being a service dog and customers who get mad at people for having legit service dogs with them, and all that obnoxious bullshit.

here's everything you need to know. you ready?

you are allowed to ask anyone to remove their service dog if their dog is misbehaving.

That's the secret to your success in navigating this situation at your job in the restaurant.

So if a service dog is barking, or growling, or jumping at the end of it's leash because it's excited to try to meet people, or trying to eat food from under the next table over etc ... you can ask that person to remove their service dog from the premises. For example, if a see-ing eye dog gets overstimulated and starts barking, you are totally legally allowed to say "sir, if you can't get your dog under control, i'm afraid i'm going to have to ask the two of you to leave" and mean it.

What all this really means is, you don't have to care if the animal is a service dog or not .

It literally does not matter to your job. If it's behaving, it's behaving... right? like, who cares if there's a dog if it's quietly minding its business and not bothering anyone? And if it IS misbehaving then it doesn't matter if it is a service dog or not you can still ask it to leave.

And THAT means, you never have to ask anyone if their dog is a service dog. If you assume all dogs are service dogs, you can say a strong yes to any karen demanding to know if that dog is allowed to be there, and it gives you recourse if someone is complaining about any actual real dog misbehavior

and just like that you never have to stress about service dogs again -- as far as you are concerned, anyone can say any dog is a service dog and you can just believe them and that will never cause a problem for you.

in addition to allowing you to retire this as an issue and relax about service dogs in general, i hope you enjoy the knowledge that you can, actually, tell some lying-ass customer that if you see their "service" pomeranian standing on the fucking table at any time they will be asked to leave.

[elysia-nsimp]

TWST Headcanons!

Hi everyone! This is the second post in the series where I share with y’all my headcanons for the twst characters.

On todays chopping block, the loves of my life, the fuckers that haunt my every waking moment, the Leech twins!

Alright, let’s get started! There’s a lot to cover, so let’s just touch on physical changes right now.

Both of them look less human, YIPPEE

Their ear fins from their eel forms show even in their more human form. (Floyd’s are broader and face outward, while Jade’s are thinner and face upwards)

Their yellow eye is brighter and constantly gives off a dim light (which gets brighter the darker it is around them)

Their lips and eyelids have a soft teal tint to them

The purple under their eyes is just a lighter variant of their dorm uniform makeup.

Both of them carried over the spots from their eel form in the form of teal freckles across their faces.

Floyd paints his nails! Sometimes Jade does as well.

We don’t really know if it’s canon or not, but the twins have pharyngeal jaws in the back of their throats like real life moray eels.

Great! So what does that all mean?

These changes are actually pretty straight-forward.

The twins revel in freaking people out. Floyd especially doesn’t particularly care how human he looks, so the both of them kind of alter how much of their Be Human medication they take to appear more or less human (they are absolutely not supposed to do this but there’s no major repercussions). All of the physical changes are just bits and pieces of their true forms shining through. They can appear more like they do in canon the higher dosage of their Be Human meds they take.

Any new abilities?

Yes, as a matter of fact! Let’s talk about them!

The twins are sirens, not normal merfolk like Azul. When they sing (genuinely), anyone in earshot will feel compelled to move towards them. They both use this just to mess with people.

Both of them can purr as well, as well as a lot of other more animalistic sounds (ex: tongue clicks either when pleased or in Hunting Mode, they’re very different clicks, a deep growl from the backs of their throats, soft chips when content, even a sound kind of like barking etc etc). These are all things they can do no matter what form they take. Also in Hunting Mode (TM), their pupils get thinner.

The twins are hermaphroditic, like regular eels, meaning they can change their sex.

Other things about merfolk culture that should be noted!

They don’t celebrate the same holidays we do. It’s more seasonal than specific days… except birthdays!

Gift giving is seen as a romantic courting ritual. Be careful when giving the twins gifts, because they might immediately assume it’s romantic unless you state otherwise… Floyd especially.

Biting is TYPICALLY an affectionate show from eelmers, especially if they make an effort to not break any skin. Cheek, hair, and hand biting are more platonic, while shoulder and ear biting are more romantic. Biting can also be a playful gesture (Floyd randomly bites Jade's arm when he's bored, for example)

They speak a whole ass other language in the Coral Sea, so the twins are multilingual.

…I’m not gonna say cannibalism is normalized… but……

Elvers (all children really) often huddle together like otters do to avoid floating away from one another. Most of the time, they have to hide in small holes between rocks if they don't have a structurally sound home to stay in.

Backstory

Wait, this wasn’t in my Jamil post! And correct you are, viewer whom I am 100% projecting onto! Jamil’s backstory didn’t change much, but we don’t really… know much about the twins’ backstory. Because of this… let’s just say I did a lot.

To be fair most of it is in relation to Floyd, rather than Jade, as I worked more on Floyd. A friend of mine does way more with Jade than I do, so assume my comments about Jade are references to that friend.

So I’m not gonna say the twins’ family is running a mafia… but….

Anyway, let’s meet their parents, Hitori and Mirai Leech. Hitori sure wants to be a good father, but he’s… not doing well. Mirai is also trying her best, but she’s doing better. The twins do not appreciate their father, but they love their Momma very much. :)

Eels can have clutches of maybe 10,000 eggs, so… imagine how many siblings they had! Many didn’t even hatch, some died after hatching… some may or may not have been eaten, but then, there were the ones that made it to childhood. There were several, really. More than just the twins.

The Leech family had to move often due to NOT mafia reasons, so they were nearly always on the move from one place to another. During their travels, some elvers would wander off and never return, some were hunted by bigger predators, some even gave themselves up so the rest of the family could eat. Everyone was always sad when they lost another, but it became so normal that the twins grew… mostly numb to it.

Once the family was solidified in one place, and… nearly all of the twins siblings were already gone, the elvers could actually start going to school. While Jade was rather solitary, Floyd was… Floyd, really. Always up and moving, clearly undiagnosed auDHD, unable to fully control his emotions, the whole ordeal. His parents got a LOT of notes from teachers and other staff that he was a PROBLEM at school.

This turned into evening arguments, groundings, lectures, all sorts of things. Floyd hated hearing “why can’t you be calm like your brother?” time and time again. He was trying, but it hurt so bad. It got to the point where Floyd tried to run away, like several siblings before him, on SEVERAL occasions. He was always either found days later, or dejectedly came home, hungry and wanting dinner… Jade worried one day Floyd would leave and never come home, but he always came home somehow.

Of course, the twins met Azul in elementary school and forcibly became friends with him then, but really, he was their only friend.

At one point, late elementary, Floyd had enough of all the nagging because of his behaviour. One day, Floyd just went dead silent. No one could get him to talk. Not his parents, not Jade, not Azul. This lasted YEARS. No one could truly figure out why he did this, as he wouldn’t… yknow. Tell them. Now, only notes of concern for Floyd came in from teachers. With each passing week of no noise from Floyd, everyone grew more and more concerned.

In late middle school, maybe a half a year before the NRC acceptance letter came in, Jade was talking to Floyd, hoping he’d get his brother to snap out of his silence, when Floyd suddenly spoke again. All he said was “Jade, I hate myself.”

It turned into a conversation about Floyd’s mistreatment—how he was jealous that Jade was so seemingly perfect, while he couldn’t do anything right, and how their parents had always wished he was more like Jade… Jade expressed similar feelings of inadequacy, which… turned into both of them crying while hugging the other.

Jade asked Floyd to make him a promise. A promise to never hide who he was, even if others didn’t want to accept it. It hurt more to see him force down every part of himself than anything else… Floyd agreed, saying he’d try.

That brings us to their acceptance at NRC, alongside Azul. Floyd needed a few months in their first year to fully recover from his habits, but without familial pressure to hold him back, he opened back up. That brings us to the Floyd we know and love today. Jade is incredibly proud of Floyd’s progress, actually, but he’s still scared that Floyd may disappear one day and he’ll lose it all.

Haha. Abandonment issues from both of them frfr.

Anyway, that’s the basics of the backstory… mostly from Floyd’s perspective (and off the top of my head). I may add more about Jade’s perspective if I REMEMBER more

Other headcanons

Assorted other stuff, as usual~

While both of the twins go by he/him, neither are cis. Floyd is genderfluid, Jade is agender. Floyd is also pan, while Jade is ace. They joke about how Floyd took all the gender and sexuality in the eggs.

These fuckers EXTREMELY AUTISTIC. Both of them. They’re so autistic it’s unbelievable. Actually they’re both ADHD/ADD as well. And depression

Floyd has BPD.

Concept from twistedblunderhand here on Tumblr, but Floyd especially is understimulated on land due to the lack of water pressure! The pressure gives the feeling of a weighted blanket, so it’s easier to reign in focus when underwater.

Their strand of black hair is actually a hair extension made from their mother’s hair. It’s tradition in her family to give a part of yourself, literally, to loved ones so you can always be with them, even when apart.

Floyd swaps sexes during his afab peers’ time of the month “so they don’t have to feel alone” in the all-boys college. Jade also swaps sexes from time to time for a range of reasons. Both of them hate it when the other does that because their scent changes drastically.

Jade keeps a journal of all his siblings who were lost over the years. Every single entry has their name, the age they were lost, and everything he knows or remembers about them, including any happy memories. The journal is one of his most prized possessions.

Floyd absolutely does not take notes in classes. Instead, his notebooks are full of drawings and sketches. He took up drawing to pass time on land!

The twins are used to being showered in gifts from “family friends” they don’t really care about on their birthday.

Floyd's hugs CAN be deadly, but he has a pretty good sense of his own strength. When hugging people he DOESN'T want to crack the spine of, he's very good at not hugging too tight.

Jade collects shiny trinkets :)

Jade has a major case of golden child syndrome in the worst way possible (for him, that is)

Because of needing to huddle together as elvers, both twins are rather cuddly once they've deemed you trustworthy. It's not a shocker for Floyd, but not many people really think of Jade as a cuddly type.

Also, if the twins like you, they may randomly appear to protect you from the most minor things, as something as simple as a limp or a sore wrist could mean death in the Coral Sea. Just know, if they're overprotective of you, it's likely because they (Floyd especially) have trouble distinguishing what's a major threat verses a minor threat on land.

^ Going off of the above, yes they will back off if you ask them too, but it will make them VERY anxious. If you don't like the overprotectiveness, you may have to assure them you're NOT gonna die from tripping over a rock.

And there you go! May edit to add more if I think of more, but until then, enjoy my headcanons of the Leech twins! BTW, I'm absolutely not demeaning any of the morally grey aspects of either character. Those are absolutely still a part of them, but since that doesn't really change with my AU/headcanons, I don't have much to talk about in regards to that.

[maccreadysbaby]

Writing Tips!

category : atmosphere

a few tips on creating atmosphere in your wip! examples provided!

— ☢︎ —

i often find my scenes fall flat if i don’t provide insight on the time, location, and condition first. is it a rainy afternoon? foggy morning? are the characters watching the rain drip down the window at school? is the sun up or down? is it cold outside? at the very least, if you have no reason to talk about the weather or outside, have your character check the time, if possible. if they’re inside, is the room dim or bright? is it cold? what does it smell like? what are the vibes of the room? creepy? nerve-wracking? it just helps us build the atmosphere. rainy has a different effect on readers than sunny, it’s simple as that. atmosphere can impact your scenes as much as a character would. build the world around your character before they do anything — or else your readers are imaging in your character in a white room. or in a building, within a white room.

ex. describe sunlight, weather, time, if possible. describe the feeling of the room, the temperature inside or outside, if it’s dim or bright, sterile or vibrant, etc.

during stories, it might be tempting just to buzz through the plot-moving dialogue and get to the next scene, but trust me, people will put down your book if they see that! long conversations with only a few dialogue tags and no atmosphere — even if you’ve previously set it up like the last tip — are a huge turn off. humans don’t speak to each other like robots, so don’t write your characters that way! humans can work while they speak, inflect on certain words, make faces, stutter, forget what they’re saying, start a new thought right in the middle of the first one, etc!

ex. make your characters move around; messing with their hair, brushing off their pants, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, crossing their legs, doing a task while speaking, etc. make them mess up their words and make weird faces and interrupt themselves, it makes the conversation more dynamic!

there is something lurking deep in all writers wips, and it’s the terrifying case of the disappearing character. when a group of characters are together, and some of them have dialogue together but one isn’t involved in what they’re talking about or just doesn’t have lines, they disappear from the scene until the writer realizes they’re there again. what are they doing? just standing there blankly while the others talk? oftentimes I locate this problem by imagining my scenes like a movie — who’s doing the talking and moving and whose doing nothing? make them do something, bah, humbug!

ex. make them listen to the other characters even if they aren’t involved in the conversation. make them move around, play on their phone, talk to another character in the background, do something. make them do something, i beg!

sounds, or the lack thereof, are such useful atmosphere building factors! include more sounds! if your characters in a crowd, talk about the shouting. if they’re in a hospital room, talk about the beeping of the heart monitor being all they can hear. talk about the overlapping hum of quiet voices during class, the clicking of a clock during a test, the growl of cars passing through, the crash of water on the shore, the whistle of the wind through rickety windows, the jingle of dog collars at the park, the quiet tv playing in the background, the annoying song on the car radio, etc. even the lack of sounds can be ominous and world building. but make sure you mention the lack of sound — don’t just avoid putting descriptions in your wip, then it feels unfinished. talk about how the sounds and silence makes your character feel.

ex. outside can be cars, lawn mowers, honking, animal sounds, wind, rain, thunder, leaves cracking, birds singing, crickets chirping, dogs barking. inside can be squeaky doors, tvs, phones, machines, plumbing, fans, music, rattling windows during a storm, a family member talking on the phone, etc.

a huge part of locations are people. if your characters are in public, and you describe everything perfectly but forget to put actual humans doing human things, it will still feel weird and empty. make humans do human things in public, and make your character have appropriate reactions to it.

ex. put teenagers and families in the mall, kids at the park, people rushing through the airport, families at the zoo, old people on benches, workers in uniform walking on the sidewalks, cars buzzing to and fro, etc.

now, if you’re writing horror, these might not all apply to you. in horror the lack of worldbuilding can build the atmosphere itself. the lack of sounds or teeny weenie bumps in the night, the public place being devoid of people, characters speaking with no emotion and dead eyes, no real idea what time it is or where they are or what’s happening outside of the spooky things happening to them. it builds the freaky atmosphere, but for any other genre of writing, i highly recommend building your atmosphere thoughtfully and purposefully!

[featherwingfae]

Ok So this one is for the Fae/Faerie kin that also identify as Therians or feel a connection with certain animals.

I've seen many Fae/Faerie kin who are also Therian, and I'll admit I have a connection to some animals myself and have been found to mimic their behaviors. However I don't remember living like an animal. Now it's possible that they are simply kin memories that have not yet surfaced, but I don't feel like that's the case. I can remember being said animals just not living as them. For example I would romp and play as a fox among other foxes but I did not survive the way they did. For me it was merely fun. Not unlike a child playing pretend. I feared no hunters and I did not need to hunt for food myself. And if ever I did hunt it was simply part of the game rather than survival. I know there are plenty of Fae that could and would change into the forms of animals, and as fun as messing with humans might be, I just don't think it was the only reason Fae would go about as animals. Which only furthers my belief that sometimes it was just for the pure fun of it. And I'd imagine that just as some people have favorite animals so too do some fae. I don't think it was always just a one time thing either. Fae can communicate with the natural world in ways most humans would only dream of, imagine just being that one deer in the herd that just disappears and reappears but after years and years of interaction the rest of the herd (while probably sensing that you are not quite a deer, no matter how much you may look like one), has also come to accept that you are not a danger to them. Perhaps over time you've kept an eye on this one herd and their descendants. steering them away from the occasional danger or leading them to the juiciest greenest hidden pastures. You become a kind of faerie god-deer (like faerie godmother). And after so much time acting like a deer, you find yourself slipping into the animalistic habits even when you're not taking the animal form. But you don't mind. Your experiences are part of you, it was only natural. And perhaps after a while you find that the courts and humanity are just not all that interesting to you. You think about the deer. Your deer. The herd you'd been watching, protecting, guiding. You start spending more and more time as a deer. It's fun, it's free and after a while most predators learn to keep their distance from your herd. You are still Fae but the deer is part of you now, perhaps just as important as the part of you that is Fae.

I'm curious are there any Fae/Faerie kin who resonate with this at all? Do you remember (if in fact you have any kin memories at all. Not everyone does. And there's nothing wrong with that 😊) being an animal living, surviving as an animal? Or, do you remember being interested and/or amused playing as an animal while all the time knowing that the other animals can sense that you are different? Does the Fae/Faerie kin side and the Therian side feel like two separate lives or do they feel almost blended? Do you remember being afraid when you were an animal or did you know that you had almost nothing to fear? That no matter what, you were a magical being that could charm, trick, or enchant your way out of most situations?

Please understand I'm not trying to invalidate anyone. As far as I'm concerned no one can tell someone who or what they are but them. If you resonate at all with this post it doesn't make you any more or less Fae/Faerie kin or Therian. In the end, only you can know who you are. I also write this post for the Fae/Faerie kin who don't quite feel Therian but find themselves acting in animalistic ways. Those that feel connection and memory but still just don't quite feel they are/were animals (at least not normal ones). Kins that feel like it was/is more play than survival but who still find it quite satisfying to shriek, bark, meow, growl, chirp, squawk, etc.

If you've read this far, then I appreciate you and may you have a most marvelous and magical day/night 😊🍀✨🌙🍄☀️👁️

Till next time