#we don’t know where it was first written

[deepdisireslonging]

His And Hers Need

You instigate Jason into having his way with you after over a month apart. Quickly, he becomes more than you can handle.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings/Promises: Dick being annoying (because you told him to), Fluff, Smut, possessiveness, p in v, creampie (multiple), sorta cum-play, just smutty-smut goodness

Word Count: 2600

Note: Haven’t written a quick smutty thing for Jason in a while. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Happy reading!

“Don’t hit me.”

Jason looked up from his book. He widened his eyes, readjusting to reality before he answered. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not that I’m adverse to the idea, but why would I do that?”

Dick gingerly sat down on the low table in front of the library couch Jason was sprawled across. “I have a confession to make.”

If his battle-brother hadn’t looked so sheepish, Jason would have laughed. Instead, he sat the book to one side and gave him his full attention. The subject of their discussion wasn’t a mystery. He’d been aware of it for a while. “You have a crush on her-”

“I have a crush on your girl.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Not unusual. We’ve entertained the same girl before all in the name of Wayne. But usually, I’ve gotten to her first. And now I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You’re gonna get over it.”

“How?”

“What?” Jason crossed his arms as he laid back.

“That is – how does one… get… over it? I’ve never had someone beat me to a girl before.” Dick hoped his ‘nervousness’ was covering up the deep trench of teasing he was digging. “Usually it’s been: I see her, I like her, I get her, we part ways.”

There were about ten more seconds of this conversation before steam was going to start billowing out of Jason’s ears. “That’s… enlightening. All in the name of Wayne, right?”

Suddenly Dick’s mouth was very dry. He swallowed, searching for moisture as if that would be enough to cool down the rage picking up speed in his brother’s chest. “Got- got any suggestions?”

“Mhmm. You skip to the ‘we part ways’ step and forget about her.”

“That’ll be hard since she patrols with us all the time.”

“You’ll figure it out, Detective.” With a growl simmering in the pit of his chest, Jason snatched up his book. Despite it being closed already, he opened it halfway just so he could snap it shut in front of his brother’s face. He left the room quickly.

Taking Jason’s vacated spot on the couch, Dick had to chuckle. “Hope you’re ready, Y/N. He’s headed your way.”

“Thanks, Dick. I owe you one,” you said over the coms.

“That you do. If he doesn’t take all the frustration out on you like you hoped, he’s gonna bruise me black and blue. And I don’t need any more of it to match my suit.”

“Big baby.”

***

You slipped the powered-off com out of your ear and slid into position on your bed. Absently, you flicked smooth the corner of the waterproof blanket working as your seat. The book in your hand was the same title Jason had snapped in Dick’s face a second ago. It was a way to keep connected when you’d been pulled on separate missions for the past month. But the raggedy see-through tank top and lounge short-shorts were wholly yours. There was barely enough fabric to hide what you had planned.

Even though you knew he was coming, you still jumped when Jason slammed open the door. He locked it without a word and shed his sweatshirt.

“Well hello to you too.” Some of your resolve withered away under the hunger in his eyes. You tossed the book onto the nightstand and backed deeper into the pillows. “Jay-”

“Need you.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “I can see that. Jay, baby, what’s happened?” But he was on you too quick. Snagging your ankle, he pulled you to the center of the bed where he could stretch his whole body over you. You fought to remain attached to reality while he kissed every inch of your bared skin. “Jason. Are you okay? What’s-”

“You’re my girl. My woman. Anybody else can fuck right off.” 

You grinned into his lips as he kissed you deeply, possessively. Already your body was undulating to feel him press against you. His hair was thick and cool against your fingers as you buried them into his curls. When you gave them a gentle tug, he groaned into the underside of your jaw. “It’s not like that was ever up for debate. But-” You froze as he stopped the onslaught to hover over you.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he murmured. “But I realized I haven’t been taking care of you here of late. I’ve missed you, is all.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead with a tenderness you hadn’t shared with him in a long while.

You missed him too.

“I’m right here.”

With a sigh, he let you guide his head to rest under your chin. He laid across you. The press of his body over yours, and the calming solidity of your body under his, it initiated the reconnection of your hearts. Soon, your breathing was in sync. You would have been at risk of falling asleep, but Jason kept wriggling. The possessive throb of his manhood had not relented. And, pressed as close as he was, he was hyperaware of how many layers you weren’t wearing. Your eyelids fluttered with the light trailing of his fingers up your sides. The gentle kisses he laid on your chest and to the underside of your jaw. When his thigh slid between yours, you couldn’t resist rolling your hips.

“We don’t have to.”

“Hmm?”

Jason lazily smoothed his thumb across your shoulder. “We don’t have to. We can just lay here, if you want.”

“Nuh-uh.” Biting your lip, you inhaled deeply enough to press Jason’s face deeper between your breasts. “You can’t just slam the door open, say you need me, kiss me all over, and then say we can just lay here.” He looked up in time to see the wicked gleam in your eye. “Not a chance.”

Enthralled, Jason’s mouth pulled to one side with a smirk as you guided his hand to reach under your shorts. What he found made him pant against your skin.

“Need you,” you whined.

“I’m right here.”

He sat up. And removed his sweatpants and shorts. Smoothing his hands up and down your thighs, he removed your shorts while you tossed the tank top to the floor. His breath staggered. Laid bared before him, you resisted the urge to curl up and hide. He’d seen you all before. But each time, especially on days like this when he wanted to relearn you after an extended time apart, it was like he was seeing you anew. His eyes raked down your form. And up again. Like he knew he missed seeing that one crease of your skin, a certain freckle, or the flush rising up between your breasts. Each small moment was his favorite. And he wasn’t going to miss a single one.

All the while, you trembled under his gaze. And you took the time to appreciate him too. The smooth curves of his muscles; they were strong enough to defend a city, and soft enough to hold you tight. But you also noted the ragged edges of his scars. How some of them had smoothed into soft curves with time, but you knew each story. Each case and the number of lives saved. This man, capable of saving a city, was hovered over you like you were the center of his universe. The way his lower tummy flexed caught your attention like a whirlpool. Then his hands and mouth were moving for your pleasure, and you were lost.

Jason’s palm laid over your sex, cupping how warm and wet you’d become while waiting for his desperate entry. His mouth moved from one of your breasts to the other, nipping and kissing the swells of them and laving his tongue over your nipples. When his fingers finally curled into your heat, you moaned loudly. Which made him smile against your skin.

“Gonna make you louder than that,” he promised.

He didn’t waste time when bringing you to the brink with his fingers. He curled them, scissored them, until you were keening his name. He had to lay his other hand against your lower stomach to hold you in place. On another night, he would have taken great pleasure laying his forearm across that same spot, pinning you down and eating you out for hours. But today, he needed to feel you around him as soon as possible. When he was sure he wouldn’t hurt you, he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Y/N-”

“Jay, need you, please.” You reached up and swirled your thumb around his tip. His strangled cry and tight grip on your wrist stopped you. “Please-”

Two breaths later he worked inch by glorious inch into your sex. The needy clench of you made his mouth drop open. He focused hard on working all the way into you before he could cum. It stole his breath how hard you could clench around him. How sexed-out you looked already. Jason finally rolled his hips. You rolled to meet him, gripping at his arms on either side of your head.

Tiny whines and whimpers traitorously made it past your lips. Each thrust of his made your body shudder. The back of your mind frantically tried to come up with an excuse for Bruce to not separate you two this long ever again. But Jason was moving too fast, too perfectly, to blindingly for the plans to stick longer than a second. You could come up with something later. You gave into the waves of delight he was thrusting into you. Lips trembling, you allowed your sounds to grow louder, knowing that they would spur him on. Jason’s own noises grew louder to match you. Desperate chasing of the sparks of pleasure soon had you both crying out. Jason smothered you as his arms gave out, overcome with the way your sex was milking his release.

A few minutes later, you shuddered as he pulled out. The water-proof blanket was a blessing. Especially when he was in the habit of making a mess of you. You forced your eyes open. And froze.

Jason had a keen eye on your sex. Oblivious to his own movements, he reached up and pressed lightly on your abdomen. He kneaded the pouch there, ignoring or ignorant of your whimpers of sensitivity.

“Baby- what are you doing?”

He kept pressing, watching his cum leak out of you. “I – You’ve got so much of me in you.” Enraptured, he held you in place so he could continue to watch the show. “Maybe we should take longer missions. So I can do this to you more often. I’m impressed you can hold that much.”

“Alright.” You panted. “Then leave it in.”

“No. Gotta make room for round two.”

Incredulous, your eyes went wide. Especially when he started to fist his cock again. You clenched, squeezing out more of his release at the sight of his length swelling slowly in his hand. “Jay, sweetie, I can’t. Too-“ You broke off with a gasp as he flicked over your clit. “Too sensitive.”

“Sure you can. For me?”

How could you ever tell those big, beautiful eyes no?

Thankfully he took several minutes to kiss you all over again while he palmed himself to hardness again. By then, you wanted him in you again. But he took his time. Scooping more cum out of you, licking his lips hungrily to see you gape for him, he couldn’t focus on one thing about you for more than a few seconds. He watched your eyes drift closed while he kissed down your stomach. Distracted, you didn’t see his plan.

Jason flipped you on to your stomach. From there, he could massage up your back, pushing lightly on your spine to squeeze out just a pit more. His stance between your thighs kept you from closing them. He kneaded your ass before leaning over you.

“Think you can take me again, now?” Sliding his hand into your hair, he used your locks to tilt your face to one side. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm.” You arched your ass up towards his length. “Yes, please.”

He breathed a laugh. “If I didn’t know you were such a needy thing ninety percent of the time, I’d compliment your politeness.”

“C’mon, Jay.” You reached back for him, only to have your hand pinned to the blanket next to your face. Again you arched your back so your ass could rub along his length. As he gasped, you smiled. “You said you wanted round two. And you’re ready for it.”

“There it is. My needy girl. Mine.”

He sheathed you in a breath. It took him several stuttered gasps to refill his lungs after feeling you around him again so soon. Unprompted, the memories of how he won you filled his mind. He kissed between your shoulder blades while you both adjusted, thinking. He remembered how your rogue lives had overlapped, helping and hindering. Bruce convinced him to invite you to join the crew after you were injured. Jason had watched as Alfred patched you up. You didn’t like how big the guest room was. This room. He’d shared it with you for the first several weeks. Simply holding you at night, soothing you from the nightmares that chased you. He stayed because of you. Now, here you were. In his arms. No longer tormented except by whatever pleasure he could dish out. And he intended to dish out plenty.

Slowly he began to drag out of you, only to thrust quickly. As if he was drawn into you like the strongest magnet. Like he wasn’t complete without you. Over and over again he filled you, listening for your cries and pleas. How your name rasped around his name. You were his, yes. But he was also yours, wholly and infinitely. The way your velvety walls held him, and the glow of your skin, made him want to stay connected like this forever. But you clawed at the fabric under your fingernails, He imagined feeling that desperation against his own skin and flinched as his vision whited out. With a shout, he stilled over you, shuddering and filling you once again. Chasing that last feeling of belonging to each other, he pumped a few more times until you were inching up the bed to get away from his cock.

Finally, Jason fell to one side. You remained impaled on him until you caught enough of your breath to free yourself. His happily exhausted face was there to meet you when you turned in his arms. He brushed some of your hair off your sweaty face. You nuzzled your noses together.

“Jay… I have a confession.”

He grinned, already connecting the dots through his post-sex maze. “So, I’ve been had.” He kissed your hairline, hugging you closer.

“That was the plan, but then you kinda took over. Not complaining.” You snuggled further into his arms. Then you smothered a grin. “Have you and Dick really dated the same girl?”

“What’s he been-” He sucked his teeth. “Eavesdropping too. But, yeah. Just as a front. For some gala or another, or to distract from Bruce having to miss an event because of a case. None of them ever made it far. Hard to be when all they wanted was a tour of the Manor.” Burrowing his nose behind your ear, he added, “nobody has been as wonderful as you. As beautiful.” He kissed with each praise. “As clever. As strong. Or as perfect of a fit in my hands.”

With a groan, you caught his roaming hands before they could start round three. A flurry of kisses later, he convinced you otherwise.

***

Masterlist

Other Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader Fics:

 Two Hoods, One Revenge (S)

 Your Favorite Game (S)

Tame the Wild (S)

 Race to the Top (S)

ABC’s of Jason Todd: An alternate NSFW alphabet mixed with fluff, angst, and of course, smut. [Complete]

[thetriumphantpanda]

put your sweet lips on my lips | joel miller

Summary | He won't ever kiss you, those are the rules, but you fall in love with him anyway.

Pairing | Boston QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | This is basically porn without plot (do we expect anything less from me these days?) A sprinkling of angst, a stupid no kissing rule, fingering, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, biting during sex, mentions of breath play, Joel is kinda mean but also kinda soft, neck kisses, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | This was written for @janaispunk's 1.5K kisses celebration! I got Joel Miller with neck kisses and I immediately went, make it smutty and painful, so this is the result. The biggest congratulations to Jana for such an incredible milestone - you're such a shining star on this little corner of the internet and I'm so glad to know you! I hope you like my little way of celebrating you! Thank you for letting me be part of your celebration! I think this may be one of my favourite things I’ve written in a while so I hope you all agree and enjoy it!

Main Masterlist

“That’s it baby, just like that.”

His lips are right there, right against the shell of your ear, hot breath painting small drops of dew where it meets your hot skin. He’s got two fingers buried in your sopping cunt, the squelch of movement the only thing that fills the air if it’s not your moans or his grunts as he presses the thick bulge of his jeans against your ass.

It would be so easy. So easy, you think, to turn your head to the side and catch him by surprise. Let your mouth brush against his, hope that it sparked something between you, hope that it made him push his mouth harder to your own, that he’d let you taste his tongue for the first time since this all started.

He was clear from the start though, that first night, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, throbbing inside you as he split you open, when you’d put your hand around the back of his neck and tried to drag him to your mouth. His eyes had darkened and his hand had flown to the bottom of your neck, gripping tight enough to warn, tight enough to thrill, to make your wet cunt even wetter as he growled at you.

“I don’t do that shit.”

And that was it. Acceptance between the two of you that this was just sex. Just fucking when you needed it, taking your frustrations out on each other. Nothing to blur the lines, to make you think it was anything more. Plump lips always taunting you when they spoke to you, or when he sunk his teeth into them when you took his entire length into your mouth and down your throat. Always right there and always just out of reach.

God knows how much you want to know what his mouth is like on the one part of your body they’ve never touched. He’s had that mouth latched around your clit as you shake for him, sucked your nippled into that warm cavern, left marks on your skin with his teeth, but never once let you feel them on your own.

You turn your head to him a little, his fingers curling inside you enough to make your pussy clench around them, his mouth right there. You know you could do it, but you’re scared of the consequence. Scared that he’d take everything else away from you, like a parent taking away an ice-cream from a screaming child. You’d be just as petulant if he did, because there’s something comforting about him, hard and closed as he is, but in this place, he is the only thing that doesn’t make you want to throw yourself out of a window.

“Come on baby,” He urges, snaking his other hand down your body so he’s teasing your aching clit now too, “Give it t’me and I’ll give you what you want.”

He rolls his finger across your swollen bud, circling and circling as the feeling in your stomach goes tighter and tighter until it snaps, all of a sudden. Cunt clenching around his fingers as your body shakes, head thrown back onto his shoulder as you come, gushing around his fingers. That’s when you feel it, the familiar warmth of his mouth, soft as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, and then up the side of your neck. He pulls his fingers from your cunt, drags them up your body as his mouth opens against the skin of your neck, tongue warm and wet as it licks at your skin, warm and wet like his fingers that have wiped the evidence of your want for him over your lower stomach.

Joel presses you forward, front of your body pressed to the back of the couch, eyes on the peeling, colourless wallpaper in front of you. He uses one of his knees to spread your legs wider, and though it might be obscene, you move in a way to show off, to bare your aching, drooling pussy to him and the empty room. You can hear him fumble with his belt and then the sound of him pulling his zipper down.

He gives no warning, he never does, just lines the blunt head of his cock to your fluttering hole and pushes in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he folds his body over yours, head of his cock pressed so deep you have no idea where he ends and you start.

His mouth is back on your neck, kissing sloppy to the skin, and it’s like he knows, like he could read your mind about what you want. When he sinks his teeth in and sucks, it’s like he’s saying he’s sorry. He’s sorry he can’t be the man you want him to be, that he can’t ever love you. And silently, as you hold his head there, fingers tangled in his hair, you say it’s okay, that you forgive him, as long as he never stops this.

As long as he never stops the perfect roll of his hips, skin slapping against skin as his cock sets a bruising pace. As long as he never stops the bruising grip on your hip, keeping you in place. As long as he never stops letting you feel his mouth on every inch of your body, it’s okay.

Joel is close, you can feel it in the way he’s faltering, so you think fuck it, what is there to lose.

“Please, Joel.”

It comes out like a whine, your head tipped back on his shoulder again, now he’s pulled you up, pressed you to his body. His hips go harder, like that’s what he thinks you want, so you card your fingers through his curls, damp with sweat, and you beg again, head tilted to the side, mouth right in his eyeline.

“Please Joel,” It’s pathetic really, “I’ll be good, I promise, just once.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Joel, I-”

“I said,” He begins, punctuating it with a particularly hard shove of his cock into your cunt, “No.”

He pushes your body forwards, takes the warmth of his body from yours in punishment for what you’d asked for. Both hands grip at your hips now, his grunts loud as he uses you, thrusts his throbbing cock in and out of you until the very last second, when he pulls himself from your tight heat and fists his cock. You can feel your cunt fluttering around nothing, so close to the edge again, and so far.

Joel comes with a growl, warm spatters of cum painting the round of your ass and the low of your back, his other hand holding you in places as he empties himself entirely across your skin. You expect this to go how it always does, with him pulling away, dressing himself and muttering some excuse to leave, but instead, you feel him come back to you, his front pressed to your back, surely making a mess of the front of his shirt as he does it.

His lips are by your ear, his breath fast and low, but then his lips press to the skin behind your ear, soft and gentle.

“I’m sorry.” He says, barely audible, even this close to your ear.

And then you feel it, the warmth of his lips against the bite mark on your neck. It’s the most gentle you think he’s ever been with you as his mouth pulls back a whisper, pressing against softly to the injured skin. Always there, and never your lips, but as he does it again, you think maybe it’s worse? Because just like it would be there if he kissed your lips, there’s a bubbling feeling in your stomach, and then you realise, it’s not the kiss the makes you fall in love, no matter where it’s placed, it’s the gentle that does it in the end.

[pitchsidestories]

part of me wants forever II Sara Doorsoun x Barça!Reader

masterlist I word count: 1672

a/n: hi, it's inspired by this request here, we hope the time jumps aren't too confusing. Let us know what you thought of the oneshot.

This was how it all begun. You didn’t expect your love story to start on an ice-cold evening in November after your team has played a Champions League group stage game against Eintracht Frankfurt, but it did.

“Sara, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Sara.”, Ingrid introduced you to each other, her eyes were shining as the stars above you in the night sky. Maybe it was written somewhere up there, what would be happening in the following days, weeks and months.

You knew the person you fell for would say that it was fate which brought you two together. But for you it was Ingrid who did.

 “Hi, Sara, nice to meet you.”, you greeted her smiling.

“Nice to meet you too.”, the older defender replied. The brown eyes who wee looking back at you were so beautiful like the person to whom they belonged too, they were something you could get lost into if this wasn’t an away game and you’d have to leave soon to the hotel you were staying at.

“You guys played really well.”, you complimented Sara in an honest tone. It was true, especially in the first half they had a stellar performance, in which Laura Freigang scored the opening goal, but in the second half your team turned it around and you won fairly comfortably with a 3:1.

“Thank you. So did you.. obviously.”, the german player answered with an amused grin on her lips.

“Y/n, we got to hurry up!”, Mapi reminded you impatiently.

“Don’t worry, Mapi. I’m coming.”, you reassured her, trying to shake off her fingers on the hood of your jacket.

“See you soon.”, Sara waved at you.

“I literally can’t wait.”, you told her. Even though you only shared some polite words with each other you had a feeling that this wasn’t the end of your script together.

On the next day your team was on the way home, the bus taking you from the Barcelona airport to the place where your cars have been parked.

 “Y/n?”, Ingrid looked up from her phone to turn her attention towards you who was sitting on the seats opposite of Mapi and her.

“Yes?”, you responded, lifting your gaze from the book you were currently reading.

“Sara messaged me.”, the Norwegian informed you, wearing a mischievous smile on her face.

“You mean Sara as in the cute Frankfurt defender.”, you replied innocently.

“Who else, genius!”, Fridolina laughed, sitting right behind you, she and Ingrid had to play with the player during their times in Wolfsburg.

“Do you know how many Sara’s there are?!”, you asked the Swedish player.

“Yes, but none of them looked at you the way she did. So, what was in Sara’s message, Ingrid?”, Fridolina stated.

Ingrids face split into a wide grin as she read the message on her phone screen: “She asked for her number.“

“You know what? You can give her my number.“, you said in a burst of courage that made Ingrid only smile brighter.

“I’ll.“

“Thank you.“

You watched the Norwegian type on her phone. “You’re welcome.“

Sara had immediately texted you that night. And as the months had passed, texting her became a daily habit for you. From good morning to good night, you shared your free-time with her. You haven’t felt that connected with someone for a long time.

One day you decided to jokingly text her about your shared taste in music, not expecting anything from it.

“Fletcher has a concert in Barcelona. You should come with us, Sara.“

“To a Fletcher concert?“, she wrote back, seemingly unimpressed.

“Yes, Jana got tickets.“, you answered.

You waited impatiently, the three dots appearing as she typed.

“I can’t say no to that.“, appeared on your phone screen.

You smiled happily: “Perfect.“

A few weeks after your text conversation, you found yourself at the concert, singing along while Sara had her arms wrapped around you. It was a casual gesture as you swayed from side to side with the rhythm.

Jana rolled her eyes: “Ugh, stop, you two lovebirds!“

“We’re doing nothing!“, you laughed, full of innocence.

“Literally.“, Sara agreed, continuing to move you with her.

Jana pulled out her phone: “Wait, let me at least take a picture of how annoying you two are.“

She snapped a few photos, a fond smirk on her face. You turned your attention back to the singer. This night was perfect and you wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

The Fletcher concert was something you liked to think back to during your busy football season.

The same was true for the biggest game of the season, the Champions League final. As expected, it was a tight game, Lyon made it hard to get through their defense. Only Aitana and Alexia found a way. So when the final whistle sounded, you were overcome with a mix of relief and happiness.

You hugged your teammates tightly, still processing what you had just achieved when Ingrid tapped you on the shoulder and pointed towards the stands. “Y/n, look who came.“

You only blinked at her for a moment before your gaze finally followed the direction of her hand gesture.

Saras face grinned at you from the stands. The sight of her was enough to make your heart pound in your chest.

You left Ingrid standing and ran over to Sara, stopping right in front of the Frankfurt defender: “Sara, I thought you couldn’t be here?!“

She only flashed you a wry smile: “Change of plans.“

“That’s amazing.”, you muttered, exchanging a short, but soft kiss with your girlfriend.

“You’re welcome.”, Sara smirked at you, as she wrapped her arms around you into a hug.

Mirroring the happiness Laura Feiersinger appeared next to her former Frankfurt teammate:” I almost lost her at the place when they sold the cake.”

“Very typical.”, you giggled, it was no secret that your lover has a sweet tooth.

Nervously Sara put a loose string of hair behind her ear:” That’s not true.”

“Sure.”, the Austrian midfielder smiled amusedly.

“It just looked so delicious.”, the German player defended herself, while a blush crept onto her high cheekbones.

“To be fair it did.”, Laura admitted.

“See?”, Sara responded satisfied.

“Well, I do.”, you tuned into their conversation, before your girlfriend kissed you, to celebrate the Champions League win properly.

Having Sara with you during all the chaos which was going on in the night was very special to you. In the morning you two chose to go on a walk to see a bit of the city. It amazed you to watch your girlfriend being so in peace with herself.

The defender was a warm person and over the weeks you’ve been together she started to share some pieces of herself and her history which you found admirable. Her late coming out, a father who wasn’t saying anything against that, but also didn’t like to talk about it anymore.

The heartbreak Sara felt when the first woman she fell for broke up with her. It impacted her so much that during an important game she scored an own goal. And her questioning if she could ever fall in love like that again? The German player knew the answer now, she was capable of loving again, you showed her how.

Fast forward and it was time to be with your national teams again, you both couldn’t wait for the upcoming free days afterwards which you planned to spend together.

“Sara, we got to talk.”, Lena Oberdorf yelled at the older woman who just sat down with Felicitas Rauch in the dining room of the hotel they were staying at.

“About what?”, Sara frowned who didn’t know her best friend in the team knew what the young midfielder was thinking about.

“I was suspecting you fell in love again, but now Obi found proof of it multiple ones.”, the fellow defender who played in the USA explained with a cheeky smile on her lips.

“What are you talking about?”, the Frankfurt player asked her teammates innocently.

“You and y/n, who football wise is so out of your league.”, Lena replied grinning.

“Beauty wise too.”, Felicitas added in a teasingly tone.

“Excuse me? That’s not what friends are supposed to say.”, Sara protested, her mouth formed to a little pout.

Felicitas smiled apologetically: “Just kidding… but playing wise not. She’s at the best football club in Europe!“

“And she and her team won against you this season. Twice.“, Lena added, rubbing salt into the wound.

“I’m aware of that.“, Sara shrugged unimpressed.

“Just a friendly reminder.“, Lena said.

Sara rolled her eyes: “That doesn’t mean we can’t go out.“

“True. I guess she’s the reason you can’t visit me in the US in your free time?“, Felicitas asked, casually changing the subject.

“That’s not true! You’re always busy!“, Sara protested.

Her best friend raised her eyebrows: “So are you apparently!“

“It’s not because of her. I’m still a football player.“, Sara explained, cringing at the thought of how packed both of their schedules were.

“I know that. So when will you introduce me to her?“, Felicitas continued.

Sara only groaned in response.

In the evening, you were on the phone with Sara as she recounted the details of the talk she had with her teammates.

“So they know about us now?“, you concluded, a smile on your lips.

“Yes, apparently we’re on Ingrids photo dump.“, Sara replied with a laugh.

You shook your head about your Norwegian teammate: “Ingrid might have done that on purpose. Sorry for that.“

“Typical.“, Sara sighed, slight fondness for her former teammate sneaking into her voice.

“She said she had a feeling when she introduced us and I believe her.“

“There’s no way!“

You sucked in your breath in feigned shock: “And I thought you were the romantic!“

“Oh, I am. I just like to think that it was fate.“, Sara replied. You could almost hear the wink through the phone.

Lowering your voice, you whispered: “Me too. I want this to be forever.“

pictures are from pinterest.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me- matt sturniolo

part one

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

------------------------------------------------------------

your pov.

“and y/n l/n, your assigned seat is next to matthew sturniolo.” my new math teacher says with finality as his eyes sweep the room. “matthew, please raise your hand” he continues clearly acknowledging the fact that he doesn’t know any student by name yet.

while the teacher was making a rendezvous trying to figure out where matt was sitting, my eyes were bulging out of my head and matts usual stoic face turned into a scowl. we lock eyes and they harden at the sight of each other. matt scoffs before shifting his eyes to the teacher, and I already know he's going to protest before he says a word.

“teach, i know you don’t know me, but my birthdays tommorrow, and i don’t really do y/n." he says while rudely gesturing to my figure, "sooo, you gotta switch the seating chart up.” matt pierces me with his gaze before offering the teacher a very fake smile.  mr. dunn, the name I assume is his considering that its written on the whiteboard, just looks back at him clearly unimpressed with his negotiation skills. matt takes the hint and tries again. “for everyone else’s sake?” he questions and  gestures to the rest of students in the room. everyone bobs their heads up and down in silent agreement. 

its no secret that me and matthew don’t get along. ever since freshman year, we’ve had a strange animosity towards each other. matt carries himself like he’s better than everyone else. he does it even now, trying to negotiate with the teacher like he makes the rules. i can’t help but agree with him, though. if we end up sitting next to each other it will be a huge distraction. matt and i have been escorted out of classrooms for starting screaming matches before. 

“your all gonna have to deal with it. this is not my problem” mr. dunn says completely blowing everyone off. I drag my feet over to matt, sighing as i let the year ahead of us sink in. “way to go tiger, maybe if you had asked instead of demanded in the first place, he might of listened.” I say as I plop down into my seat.

“okay well, at least i said something. didn’t hear you talkin” he replies smugly and folds his arms over his chest.  Even though he’s acting like a child, i have to stop myself from openly gawking at his arm

 damn, tattoos are definitely my thing.

“the fuck you looking at.” he snaps. 

tattoos are definitely NOT my thing.

i roll my eyes.  “nothing, mop” i  smirk as soon as i say it  because i know how much he hates that stupid nickname. 

“stop calling me that!” matt says a little too loudly causing the teacher to spin around from the white board and glare in his direction. matt quickly shuts his mouth and starts to play with the strings of his hoodie in shame. i can’t stop the laugh that ripples through my chest at matts’ pussy reaction. mr. dunn swings his glare to me, but ,unlike matt, i don’t care. 

i’ll just switch out this class, simple.

 i make up my mind then and there. i'm not dealing with matt  AND a shitty teacher. 

“anywayss” mr. dunn drones on turning back to the white board  still annoyed by the disruption. i look back over at matt to make fun of him, only to see his eyes shut tight and his whole body tensed up. i can see the lean muscles in his forearms bulging from the strain. 

“um what are you doing??” i question more than a little confused. he snaps out of it and slowly opens his eyes. “mind your business” he mutters.

this is going to be a longgg year. 

------------------------------------------------------------

matts pov.

“chris im telling you, i almost lost it in there.” i say panicked as i pace around my room. we’ve been out of school for about 8 hours and i’m still stressed about it. about almost losing control and killing everyone in the classroom today.

 chris gets up and grabs my shoulders. 

“bro its okay. it happens, give yourself a break. not very many vampires control themselves the way you do. when they get angry, they just snap.” chris says more casually then anyone else would on the subject, like its a normal thing. but both him and i know that nothing about what we are is normal. 

i take a deep breath, my eyes straining from the stress of it all. “i just don’t know why i let her get under my skin like that, you know. i shouldn’t ever feel like i'm about to “snap”", I say frustration seeping through my tone. i continue to take quick steps around the room, paying unnecessarily close attention to each step.

 if she had any idea what i was, she’d never bother me again, a dark voice in my mind breaks through, much to my annoyance.

 its true, us vampires are monsters through and through. even ones like me, chris, and nick who try our best to be good. we may act and look the part, but our desires are always evil. we will always be evil.

“sooo, are you excited to find out who your mate is, or what?” chris' voice cuts through the quiet that settled in the room, making my thoughts reel in a different direction.

turning day. the day in which a vampire is born. once a vampire has hit 10 yrs since their turning day,  their mates are revealed to them. its like a bomb goes off in their head and suddenly they feel completely connected to someone else.  like their souls are one, or so I've heard.

“snap out of it matt! stop spacing out and shit, its getting really annoying” chris says clearly agitated i didn’t answer his question from earlier.

“sorry” i answer sitting next to him on my bed.  after that theres a brief silence, me and chris left alone with our own thoughts. 

“Are you excited though?” chris ask quietly, clearly conflicted himself. i’m not the only one getting a mate, after all, chris and nick turned the same day i did. 

you were born on the same day and you died on the same day. what a coincidence, my dark inner voice practically chuckled at the revelation. I shudder from the thought of it.

i take a deep breath and close my eyes as i feel the stress returning. 

“i just hope shes not human.” I whisper, almost more to myself then to chris.

“yeah, me too.” chris agrees and i hum in response. its late at night, me and chris have been hanging out and nicks nowhere to be found. 

“where’s nick?” i ask. chris gets up and stretches. “i have no idea bro.” he yawns. “ but i gotta go to bed, im tired as shit. tell eachother about our mates in the morning?” chris ask, turning to me before actually leaving my room. 

“yeah sure” I replied, even though we both know neither of us are going to want to talk about it.

 we are going to want to find them and claim them as ours.

------------------------------------------------------------

my alarm clock goes off. I threw the covers off my body, hot all of a sudden. vampires dont get hot. i roll my eyes. it must be the stupid mating bond thing, then.

i shut my eyes, knowing that the first person i see is going to be  my mate for life.

please let her be pretty and please let her not be human. 

one, two, three seconds go by, but still nothing. Then, her face pops up in my mind.

“FUCK” i scream. 

at least she’s pretty

a worried chris runs into my room. “what? what's wrong, matt?” he shakes my shoulders trying to get an answer. i look up at him slowly.

“its y/n” i whisper. 

@bbernard-03

@mattslolita

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 | 𝘯𝘩13 ♔

➪ summary: in which y/n has a huge crush on nico and lets it slip during a couple of interviews or 2 interviews where y/n talked about nico and 1 interview where he spoke about her

➪ warnings: gross foods, gagging/throwing up

➪ word count: 2.4k

➪ file type: fic

➪ sunny's notes: the first ever nhl fic i posted on tumblr. this holds a special place in my heart <3 thank you for everyone who has been here from the beginning (editing this was rough)

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

⟹ Interview One: Jimmy Fallon - Mad Libs Theater -> reference video: mgk mad libs

“Welcome back, I’m hanging out with y/n y/l/n! Her new album is streaming everywhere, Apple Music, Spotify, you name it. Uh, y/n I want to do something fun with you and act out a dramatic scene, but first, we have to fill in the blanks. It is time for Mad Lib Theater.”

The intro of Mad Lib Theater plays and y/n readjusts herself on the seat to look at Jimmy, “Alright. So here’s how this works. I’m going to ask you for some silly words - nouns, verbs, adjectives, et cetera - and they’ll all be written onto our cue cards here, as we’re doing this. And then we’re gonna act out a dramatic Mad Libs scene. Are you ready for this?”

“Thank god I went to fourth grade.”

Jimmy laughs along with the audience and uncaps the marker, “Okay. Here we go. I want a noun that starts with a C.”

“Candle.”

“Candle’s good. Adjective.”

“Sweaty.”

“Type of bug.”

“Mosquito.”

“Animal.”

“Elephant.”

“A chain restaurant.”

“Chipotle. I used to work there.”

“Chipotle?”

“Yeah.”

Jimmy continues, “Noun.”

“Jersey.”

“Like New Jersey or a sports Jersey?”

“Oh, uh New Jersey.”

“A kitchen appliance.”

“Spatula.”

“A plural noun.”

“Buildings.”

“Sophisticated.”

“I know right.”

“Another animal.”

“A yack.”

“One of the Seven Dwarfs.”

“Dopey.” She looks into the audience and winks.

“Celebrity name.”

“Sabrina Carpenter.”

“Name me a number,”

“13.”

“Just 13, 13-”

“1386.”

“Type of profession.”

“Hockey player.”

“Hockey player? Okay.”

“Wow! Speed round. Here we go. Another plural noun.”

“Mooses?.”

“Uh, okay. Body part. Watch it.”

“Elbow.”

“Phrase that you would say if you bumped into Leonardo DiCaprio on the street.”

The audience starts yelling, lots of fans of y/n knowing how much she loves this movie as it takes her no time to come up with an answer, “Why did you let go, Jack? You should have stayed on the door. You should’ve got on the door.”

“Why did you let go, Jack? There was room for you on the door.” Y/n repeats herself for the man as he writes down her answer. 

“Another noun.” Y/n’s flustered, “You do this one.”

“Burrito.”

“Burrito, okay.”

“Type of drink.”

“Bloody Mary.”

“Another celebrity.”

“Elizabeth Olsen.”

“Verb ending in i-n-g.”

“Slaying.”

Jimmy busts out laughing, “Slaying. This is fun doing Mad Libs with you.”

“What would you shout if you sat down in a wet seat?”

“Fudge that’s wet.”

“‘Fudge that’s wet?’ I love you.”

“First concert you ever attended.”

“Madonna.”

“Wow. Madonna. You know what, that makes sense.”

“A professional athlete.”

Without any hesitation, y/n blurts out, “Nico Hischier.”

“What?”

Y/n hides her increasingly growing red cheeks, “He’s my favorite hockey player. He’s the captain of the New Jersey Devils.”

There were some hockey or Devils fans in the crowd and they let out a couple of cheers. Jimmy wiggles his eyebrows at the girl before continuing, “Another verb ending in I-N-G.”

“Blushing.”

“Yes, very good. You’re blushing right now.”

Y/n laughs, “Two words that rhyme.”

“Swiss. Kiss.”

“A long, silly word.”

“Iridocyclitis!” A man shouts from the audience.

“What?!

“Is that a disease? Is that an actual-” 

“Yeah, what is that?” 

Jimmy attempts to spell out a word. 

“Iridocyclitis. Yeah, of course. Alright, now, we’ve filled out the words for our scene. Good look to our cue card. So sorry, Roman. Are you ready to perform our scene?”

“I don’t know now.”

“Let’s go, let's do this.” 

『••✎••』

Jimmy and y/n stand on the building after coming out in superhero costumes, “Am I green?”

“No, yeah, you’re green. Yeah, you’re green. I’m red.”

“Candle girl! What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, hello, Captain Stinky.”

“Please call me by my nickname, Mr. Mosquito.”

“I’m here for the same reason you are here - to rescue the elephant stuck on the roof of this Chipotle.”

“I knew there was trouble tonight when I saw my signal in the sky- a light projected in the shape of… New Jersey.”

“Well, using our powers this rescue should be simple. I’m faster than a speeding spatula, and everything I touch turns to buildings.” Y/n says before Jimmy responds, “I have the agility of a yak. And when I get really dopey, I turn into Sabrina Carpenter.”

Y/n starts laughing, unable to control herself, “Wow. I must tell you, my back story is complicated. When I was 1386 years old, I was… I was once bitten by a hockey player.” 

She then spits out more laughter and doubles over to hold her stomach, “Oh my- Oh my god. And ever since, I’ve been able to emanate mooses from my elbow.”

“Why did you let go, Jack?” Jimmy holds his hand out before y/n places her own on his shoulder, “I know. It’s amazing, but with great power comes great burrito.” Both of the two laugh before controlling themselves and continuing the scene. 

“Your story reminds me of my own. I became a superhero after I fell into a tub of radioactive bloody Mary. But listen. We must complete this rescue. In the trapped elephant’s collar, there’s a USB drive that contains images of Elizabeth Olsen slaying.”

Y/n snorts and covers her mouth quickly before laughing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought it’d be much worse.”

“And as a warning, I do have one weakness.”

“What is it?”

“Madonna.”

“That’s okay. Just remember what Professor Nico Hischier told us. He said if we’re ever in a situation like this,” Jimmy pulls out a gold button, “You press this button, and we will both immediately start blushing. Here we go.”

Y/n laughs and the two start slapping their cheeks for them to redden, “Our blushing is causing the elephant to be saved.”

She looks at Jimmy and then the cue cards and shakes her head, “Swiss kiss! We did it!”

“Yes, let’s high-five and say the secret superhero catchphrase on ‘three’. One, two, three.”

They both squint in an attempt to read the word, “Iri-dira-calaptus.”

“Dude!”

“Yeah!”

“And scene!”

The two laugh as the scene ends and Jimmy tries to get his words out, “My thanks to y/n y/l/n.”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Interview Two: James Corden - Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts -> reference video: sygofyg w/ ewan mcgregor and niall horan

The theme music plays as the camera cuts to James, Ewan, Niall, and y/n sitting at a table with a rotating top and a bunch of food laid on it.

“Okay. so let’s take a look at the food that we have here.” James proceeds to spin the top of the table to showcase the food, “We have a salmon smoothie. A beef tongue.”

Ewan sticks his tongue out and makes a noise causing y/n to laugh as she holds her napkin up to her face, “This is disgusting.”

“Bird saliva.” The audience yells in disgust and Niall makes a whiffing motion with his hands, “The smell just gets stronger and stronger.”

“A scorpion. Fish head. Hot sauce. “

“Is that safe to do hot sauce?” Ewan asks as he looks towards James, “We’re gonna find out.”

“And finally, bull penis.”

“Yay!” Y/n claps. 

“So here’s how this works. Ewan and I will be asking questions to Niall and y/n. Now if someone on your team chooses not to answer their question, you both will have to eat the disgusting food. Have we got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Niall-” y/n cuts in quickly, “I’m already mad.”

“You’re up first. Niall, I am going to give you-”

Niall points to one of the foods, “Please don’t do that. My acid reflux will freak out.”

“Please don’t. Not the scorpion.”

“The salmon smoothie.” Y/n squeals. 

“Here is your question, So if you answer the question you don’t have to eat, if you don’t answer the question, you both have to have a big glug of the salmon smoothie.” Niall laughs, “I don’t know what I’m more nervous about, the question or the smoothie.”

“Well, I’ve just seen the question and I think it might be the question. Niall, who is your least favorite member or One Direction?”

Niall swears but the bleep covers it as he goes to clink smoothies with y/n. Y/n looks at him, “I think you should drink, I am not your publicist, but I don’t know that you should.”

“I think I might just take the daily mail hit tomorrow, and throw out a crap answer. I’m trying to help y/n.” The said girl laughs and hits him, “If it’ll help you out, I’ll drink it.”

“Don’t think of your teammate, think of your life.” 

“What do you think, Niall are you going to go salmon-”

Y/n places the napkin around Niall’s neck to make a bib, “Yeah for future life, yeah, I think I will go with this.” The two pick up smoothies and drink them, well attempting to drink them. 

James hands them spoons and they both put them in their mouths. Y/n immediately gags and goes to spit it in the trash, getting some in her hair. James and Ewan immediately burst into laughter as they watched the two. 

Ewan looks at y/n, “Are you alright?”

“It is not so much the taste, it’s the texture. It's like having salmon yogurt.” James looks at y/n, “Oh and there is some in the hair to keep for later. Right, so now y/n, you will ask your question to me.”

“Oh well, well, well.”

“Which would you like me and Ewan to have?”

“Have a look at the question first.” Niall leans over to help y/n, it was honestly like having a brother and sister team up against someone. 

“Oh, wow. Getting tactical.”

“Oh, he is going to eat. I know– Scorpion.” Y/n turns the table so the scorpion sits in front of the two men on the other side. 

“Scorpion. I think that is the easiest one.”

“Well, yeah, you say that until it is in your face.”

“Your question is, James, name one artist who you have turned down for carpool karaoke.” The crowd lets out a bunch of oos, “How long have you got?”

“Cheers mate,” James cheers with Ewan, and they eat the scorpions, seemingly without any problem. 

“What is y/n going to eat?”

“I think I’m going for the tongue.” 

“And it’s one each. You have to eat the whole tongue.” Y/n looks at him in disbelief and he just shakes his head, “I’m just kidding.”

“Oh, this is quite a cute one. Y/n you once said you had a favorite hockey player, Nico Hischier, is it true you might have a crush on the Swiss man?”

Y/n immediately blushes and places her head in her hands as everyone laughs, “Oh come on, this is an easy one.”

“Oh shit.” The bleep censors the word as y/n looks at the tongue, “Yes, it’s true. I do have a crush on Nico Hischier.”

The whole crowd goes wild and Niall playfully hits her on the arm, “Niall what would you like to give Ewan?”

“Ewan you’re up. Truthfully, all I’ve been thinking about is that saliva. Surely the question gets better.”

“It does. Sorry, boys.”

“Jeez, again, back to the bird saliva.”

Y/n looks at the boys, “How do they get it?” James and Ewan playfully try to mimic what they think happened.

Niall pulls out the card and y/n reads it, immediately bursting into laughter, “This is the greatest question ever.”

The Irish man looks up at Ewan with a grin on his face, “Ewan, have you ever shit your pants?”

Everyone laughs uncontrollably for at least 30 seconds, “The show is only an hour, Ewan.”

“I mean I could lie, there is only one or two people that would know.”

“I am really enjoying this.”

“Well, I guess, yeah.”

“Hang on, wait how old were you?”

“Well, I was very young at the time.”

“No, no there didn’t have any age in there, did it?” Ewan defends.

“Well, we’ve all technically shit our pants as babies.” Y/n looks at the man. 

“That is all I was referring to. I might have shit my pants in the 90s one time.”

“Ewan McGregor. Spilling it.”

“Okay, Niall I am going to give you guys.”

“Please not the hot sauce.”

“Some beef tongue, are you ready? Okay.”

“I’m going to have to eat this, aren’t I?”

“Niall, you have dated both Selena Gomez and Ellie Goulding. It is your last night on Earth, who would you rather spend it with?”

“Just it doesn’t hurt anyone.” Y/n says, “Y/n’s going ‘it doesn’t hurt anyone’.”

Niall places his arm on the girl’s chair, “I’m afraid it does, love.”

“The trouble is, it’s not really your last night so someone’s gonna be upset tomorrow.”

“Okay, I would, 'cause it’s the last night on Earth, Ellie is a big fan of Planet Earth by David Attenborough so I would sit and watch that with her, and for that reason, Ellie Goulding.”

“Y/n it is your turn, you now will ask me a question and select a food.”

“You know what, you guys seem so keen on the beef tongue, giving it to us time and time again, so we will get revenge. James, you are definitely going to eat that, so have you got your knife ready.”

“Yup.”

“Which Late Night Host do you prefer, Kimmel or Fallon?”

“That’s tricky. Oh, dear are we eating this?” The two bite into the tongue and y/n gags as she watches them. 

“That was Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts. Big thanks to Y/n Y/l/n, Niall Horan, and Ewan McGregor, we’ll be right back, everybody!”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Interview Three: Nico Hischier - Postgame Interview

“So Nico, I hate to ask you about this but there have been these videos floating around about y/n y/l/n talking about you, have you heard about this?”

Nico nods his head as he looks at the interviewer, “Yeah, actually I have. Jack actually showed me this video and let me tell you, that was the last thing I was expecting.”

“Everyone is dying to know after she came out and explicitly stated that she liked you, do you like her, or at least have a tiny crush on her?”

“Yeah, well you know, I haven’t actually met her so I can’t say I like her but I do think she’s cute and that’s all I’m going to say about this.”

The interviewer nods, “Thanks Nico.”

[rainybubbles]

What 141 would do if you're experiencing self-doubt ?

Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

SIMON : 

-"I am not enough; I will never be, and you know it. You know it because, in a crowd, your gaze wanders elsewhere. Your fingers barely brush against me, and you only utter kind words without ever mentioning my beauty. I will never be like the others; I can never fill your heart. I am just a silhouette in your life, while I constantly dream of being the leading role in our film. But it’s just a film, an illusion, and I can’t be content with that."

-Out of breath, they stood before him, tears in their eyes. Their exhausted eyes let every tear fall, their breathing was labored.

-He stood motionless, rigid, unable to move, to utter a word.

-This silence was like a knife, silently cutting the bond between them, answering the unspoken with more silence.

-"I see," they murmured as they turned to leave.

-But their momentum was interrupted by his hand firmly gripping their wrist. He stood there.

-"Do you honestly think you can compare yourself to the others?" he murmured.

-"Don’t hit where it hurts, I—"

-"Do you honestly think you can compare yourself when your smile makes me forget the blood I shed? The souls screaming in my ears. When each of your breaths is a wave of desire I struggle to restrain, while for ten years, I struggled to feel even lust? When your voice, your ambitions are the only things I think about. You haunt me. I’ve tried day and night to flee from you, to distance myself, to keep you as an acquaintance, but no matter my efforts, I found myself at your feet begging for a crumb of your smile. Do you honestly think I see you like the others?"

-Stunned, they didn’t know how to respond.

-"Simon."

"I can’t, I didn’t want to. Not yet. I can’t afford to have people to lose, but you’re here, and I find myself unable to let another take your heart."

"Then take it."

Hesitant, the soldier could see his mother, Beth, his brother, his nephew. Having someone meant being able to lose them. Having only his life meant a gentle, painless death.

-But between putting them in danger or losing them, Simon’s heart had made its choice.

-He wouldn’t risk finding them one day dead in his living room, killed by an enemy. He couldn’t. Yet the idea of having them in their living room, their house, seemed so sweet.

"It’s not that simple."

"Simon, please. Be clear, you can’t—"

His hands were on their face, wiping away each tear he had caused.

"Look at us, Simon," they murmured.

Their breaths close, the heat rising, their gazes shifted from one to the other, settling on their lips. And everything happened quickly. A moment, a second changing everything. A kiss.

"You are enough," he murmured after the first kiss.

But it wasn’t enough; starving, his heart burning, Simon kissed them again and again.

Feeling their body under his hands, their much-desired lips on his. Their breath, their scent, their sounds, their hair, everything was them, and he could only get intoxicated again and again.

They were an addiction.

"I can’t get enough of you."

"Neither can I. Don’t leave me again, Simon."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

They were enough, more than that, they were too good for him. But Simon was a selfish man, and if they allowed him, he would stay in their affections as long as they let him.

PRICE : 

(Tall reader implied in this one.)

"Am I... pathetic, John? Not enough?"

On a summer evening at the base, which was deserted due to the nice weather and the open bar, two colleagues smoked outside.

-The conversation had shifted from light banter to work, and now, as dawn approached, alcohol was loosening their tongues, steering them towards deeper topics.

"Pathetic?" John repeated.

"Yes."

They stubbed out their cigarette abruptly.

"Sorry, it sounds childish. I'm complaining about my life when we were talking about something else. I should go to bed, I—"

They were interrupted by his gaze.

"No, I'm listening."

They sat back down, almost timidly.

"Have you been with people, John?"

"I've had my share of lovers, yes."

"Everyone has, at our age, right?"

"I guess."

"Not me."

John observed their in silence, sensing their hesitation.

"My parents say it's pathetic, being only good at writing reports, not even able to seduce soldiers in a barracks. That my ugliness, my height, are horrible traits they can hardly stand to see at each meeting. And I know they're wrong, but when I hear stories of kisses, love letters, children, marriages... I can't help but wonder: what's wrong with me? Why... why have I never felt that desire, why has no one ever had it for me? Am I... pathetic?"

John removed his cigar from his lips, his eyebrows furrowed. He stood up without a word.

They guessed he was bored by their words, their problems, and regretted having said too much.

But John knelt in front of them.

"You'd have to be very cruel to think a person like you is pathetic. If you are, then I'm just a pathetic man who desires a pathetic person."

"John..."

"Not feeling desire, not having loved, kissed, or slept with someone at our age shouldn't be a shame. Love isn't a race, and if you start in your thirties, forties, or fifties, so be it. You should never feel any pressure or degradation about it. Because a man, a lover, a good one at least, will never define you. You are a wonderful person who may choose to have someone in their life, or not. It’s optional."

"It’s hard."

"I know."

On his knees, he reached out to cover their hand with his.

"You are not pathetic. Your laughter at Simon's awful jokes, that little tic after writing a report when you click your tongue, your height towering over even Johnny... I live for that. Every morning on this base, I wish to give you a report I spent too many hours falsifying just so we can correct the errors together, so I can sit next to you and feel your leg brush against mine, your scent filling my clothes, or leave my silly hat on your head in winter. I want you to see me, as I see you. Because if you did, you'd never dare, never even think to use the word 'pathetic' to describe yourself."

"John..."

"I'm not asking for anything. I know your desire now, and I guess I don't meet your expectations, but please, don't let this define you."

Slowly, he stood up, his hand leaving theirs.

"Why?" they asked, interrupting his walk.

"Why what?"

"Why tell me this when you... you know I could never have that physical desire for you?"

"Because my desire isn't just sexual, I want all of you. A life without sex doesn't bother me, not if I can see your smile every morning, not if I can fix a stupid sink we bought together, not if I can admire those lines on your face every day."

"You're an idiot."

"So it seems."

Wiping their tears, they blew their nose. With a determined step, they joined him.

"Where are we going?"

"Where?" he asked

"Well, a date should be somewhere nice, right?"

A smile appeared on his face.

"I know a place," he murmured.

"Let's go."

Hand in hand, the dawn rose on a new relationship at the base.

SOAP : 

— Wait, talk to me, we can fix this, he said, running after you into the bathroom.

— It’s not a problem, Johnny. It’s not a disagreement, you said, sitting on the floor.

— What is it then?

— ME! I’m... I’m completely useless. Seriously, all through this party, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even drink. I was paralyzed by a panic attack, standing there like a statue while my friends wanted to celebrate. I ruined their moment, I... I’m not worth it. Every time they want to hang out, they look for uncrowded places because of me. They delay our meetings to make sure I don’t faint on public transport. They try to guess if today’s a good day for me before even suggesting anything. I’m a burden to them. And I hate myself for that. I hate that I can’t talk to people without overthinking, I hate that I faint in crowds, I can’t go outside when I want to, I can’t call people, I can’t even tell stories. Because I don’t have any; I’m stuck in a boring life with anxiety slowly eating me away.

— Is that what you think? he whispered. That you’re not worth it?

— Yes, you sobbed softly. Because it’s the truth.

— Do you think your friends see you as a burden? That they hang out with you because they have to?

— Yes.

— No. They hang out with you, they take your anxiety into account, they plan around your feelings because they want to. They wish they could see you every day because you’re a wonderful person, you’re a delight to be around. They know they can’t always see you, so they take care of you. I... take care of you. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished to see you every day, to go out with you every day. But I love you too much to impose my desires on your anxiety. We love you, we do all this because we care about you. Tonight was a mistake.

— A mistake?

— We were supposed to be five, but Thomas’s friend invited more people, and it turned into a big party. We couldn’t warn you in time.

— So...

— We wanted you there, we wanted to celebrate with you, with our friends. Not with random drunk people.

— You love talking to drunk people.

— I love talking to people, period.

— I feel stupid.

— Then I’ll be stupid with you, scoot over.

— John, there’s no room to sit, we’ll be stuck in the bathtub.

— So?

He settled in. The two of you tangled up in an empty bathtub, a laugh escaped your lips.

— You’re ridiculous.

— I’m whatever you want me to be.

— Even bald?

— I admit, I won’t touch my hair.

— ...Do you... do you really want to see me more often?

— Yes. But I know how you... how you need your space after socializing.

— You sound like a personal development book.

— Maybe it’s from "Introvert’s Guide", I admit.

A sigh escaped, a smile forming.

— Thank you, John.

— No problem.

— You... you could come to my place, maybe.

— You-

— So we can see each other... more. More than just outside.

— Okay.

Slipping a key into his pocket, John could only take your hand and gently caress it.

— You deserve it, this happiness , believe me.

— I’ll try, you whispered.

KYLE : 

The silence lingered at the end of the line.

"You're supposed to answer after a “how are yo”, you know?" Kyle said.

Usually they would have said “yes I’m fine.”

But that wasn't the case. It never had been. But they had always managed to lie, to downplay their problems. Yet their trembling lips betrayed them, letting slip the truth.

"That's not the case."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, I was catching up."

Idiot. Kyle Garrick was nothing if not a stubborn and obstinate man.

"You think I'm going to buy that?"

"Kyle, I'm not sure that..."

"You just admitted what I've been waiting for months to hear. I'm not letting go."

"You were waiting?"

"Do you really think I believed you? You... you talked about your neighbor for hours to avoid my questions, please, just answer me."

"Have you ever wondered why I always seemed to mess everything up?"

"You..."

"I wonder every day. My parents barely talk to me, I did an art degree to avoid finishing my bachelor's and being in debt, I started a history degree only to end up cleaning after my graduation, unable to find a teaching position. I lost my apartment, my dog, my first love, and my second. And my college friends. And today, my job, and they all say the same thing, it's my fault. So Kyle, tell me, did I ruin your life too?"

The sound of the line crackled.

"No."

"You can't lie, I..."

"Your parents are disappointed that their prodigy of a child didn't do what THEY wanted for you. Your art school was filled with artists copying from the internet. Teaching positions come and go every year. You're just young, and as for your friends, they were nothing but hypocrites, taking advantage of your notes and then leaving. Your exes had their flaws and projected them onto you. They're all idiots if they think you're the bane of their existence, because now, they must realize how much you helped them. You mattered. You matter."

"Kyle."

"I wouldn't know who to call, who to tell the stupid things I see here to forget if you weren't there. I know you ask me to describe the scenery in each of my calls so I don't remember my missions, that you don't talk about my work to give me a bubble. And it matters to me, you matter to me enormously."

"I'm just trying to... help you."

"Then let me help you in return. Why don't you... why don't you come to my apartment?"

"Kyle, what?"

"You don't have a job anymore, do you? Rent is expensive and you have nothing holding you back. Come to England. My parents know a university, you could work there as a teaching assistant or find something else."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve better. I don't want to play the savior, I... it's selfish, but knowing that when I come back, I'll find you in my apartment is a selfish wish. I can't just settle for calls anymore, I want to hear your voice every morning."

"As friends?"

"No."

"I see."

"But if that's how you see us, then I'll respect your choice and my offer will always stand."

"I can't ask you to let me move in with you if I know that."

"I'll do anything for you."

"You're stubborn."

"Yes."

"I... I'll think about it."

"You haven't given me an answer."

"Do I really need to?"

"No. I... damn it, I wish I could kiss you."

"You'll have to wait until you come back."

"I can't wait."

If you want more : masterlist.

[loserlvrss]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

✇ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

authors note // okay so my posting schedule will probably be a little hectic bc i’m very busy and tired lately lmao but anyways i’ve had this idea for like 2 years and i even had a version of this story posted on wattpad like a year ago haha the first eight chapters are written from then but after that i’m rawdogging, my graphic is a little shit so if anyone wants or knows someone who makes them, me begging c:

chapter theme warnings // language, slight gore (like barely described), mentions of death, killing & torchering, thematic events

word count // 2k

Chapter One : The Man in The Water

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 — the world outside had become barren, fiery and dry; void of the light and color that once made it whole.

Almost five centuries ago, the buildings crumbled, and the seas swallowed half the lands. The fires came after in waves of heat that left nothing in their wake. All that was left was ruins upon ruins. A new world was what the people had gotten; the revival of a monarch that had since been lost to the flourishing technology and life-altering advancements. It seemed someone’s heavy hand hit rewind on the clock of time, but still it flew forward unforgivingly. No one could tell what year it was anymore — not that it mattered much — the future being the past. Generations having lived and died off just as quick. It seemed that we were all caught in the tight grasp of death, living just to die for the frightful reality of telling our stories to our predecessors, who would tell them second-hand until eventually it was everything but true.

The stones crunched and cracked under my weight, the uneven ground difficult terrain to trek. What was once used day-to-day as a, now outdated, shopping center was where the criminal trials of capital offenses were held on the outskirts of Sector One.

Sector One, where the anyone who was anything go to reach higher levels of intimacy and network: Old money, nepotism, and truthfully pure luck. The people who prayed on the weak; people who would dance all over a grave for the pure thrill of it. Stone walls kept the commoners, everyone else, out — which was about 90% of the continent's population. And, Armed Reapers patrolled the perimeter of the walls like Hell-dogs, at all times of the fourteen hour period. It wasn’t glamorous like it once could’ve been, but it was the best the worst had to offer.

The only time I was allowed to leave Sector One was to witness ordinary citizens bound to death by other ordinary people who deemed themselves as more. It was a gruesome world humanity had created, but apparently old habits die hard, and new ones die faster. We were the same people living in different eras, with different titles for the same old ways.

Gathered up a level, where the collapsed roof met the clashing battlefield of gray-sky, was men. They wore the forbidden powder-blue, reserved for the people death seemed to follow like an admirer. They watched through the nature that had reclaimed: vines paired with white flowers, hanging just like the fabric around the Reapers’ bodies. They instilled fear into the population through the laser-guns they carried like they couldn't physically put them down. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe that they slept with them like a lover. The modern day Grim Reaper that silently enforced the rules and regulations of living the dream, even the deniers, craved.

There was a suffocating feeling coursing through me like an ear-splitting whisper. It was almost a guilty feeling because, in reality, I knew killing people for disobeying the law some man — who deemed himself king — decided, was wrong. However, it was just the way of life; I had no right to play mercenary because God knows I don’t envy either position. I tell myself that people live and people die, that we all return to dust eventually. Hell, I’ve lived with the thought looming over my head my entire life, some people just get that bittersweet-release faster than others do.

As I approached further, the all-too-familiar water-filled circle made the pit in my stomach grow. It was a stone fountain that was once used as a wishing well, only used now to take away the wish of life with the kiss of death. Bound behind his back by chains, in the middle of the blood-stained water was an ash-blonde man. He was obviously beaten up pretty badly; blood running down his biceps and hairline. He wore tight-fitted, dark clothes that contrasted Sector Ones’ scheme, but fit the scenery well. His head hung low, like he didn't have the strength left to lift it.

Another man, cleaned and clothed freshly, had arrived from the shadows. One of the only passages back to sanctuary. Thunder cracked, his arm reaching out to stop me from going any further into the rain that had started to trickle and prick the ground. I gave him a look that said enough as I pushed through the barrier. I stopped at the edge of the pool, the crying sky having slicked the white slip dress to my skin, following my hair. I glanced up, a potion of lightning and dark clouds, carelessly wiping my face — the rainwater stung as it rolled into my eyes. The pool embraced my leg, midway to my calf as I finally stepped over its perimeter. Where the seams met the surface, the never-fading color seeped into the fabric, but still I furthered, sloshing up to the criminal. The Reapers above pointed their weapons down to me.

I kneeled in front of the blonde.

“What’s your name?” My voice broke through the deafening man-made silence. The offender didn’t budge, and if I didn’t know any better, by the way his muscles twitched and strained on his arms, I would think he was already dead.

My fingers worked faster than my mind, coming up and taking his cheeks between my pointer and thumb, where then I leveled his head with mine. He avoided the contact, throwing himself from my grip like my print burned him. Or maybe he was just appalled by my sights, as I was his.

“Now, now,” The attention of the place shifted, the man from before tisking as if he was disappointed with the show which hadn't even started. He continued to the back of my head, myself scanning over the features of the criminal who didn’t lack an ounce of beauty, actually, and that was sickening. “Come out of there, my daughter. Enough toying with the enemy.” Reluctantly I did as I was told, but not before I checked to see if that would peak the offender's interest, though he kept the same posture like a statue — like he already knew, and didn’t care.

I climbed from the water, the dress now uncomfortable to walk in without the assistance of the surface tension. My father went on, speaking about his crimes against Sector One — the central government of the surrounding lands. The only place where advancements and technology still reigned futuristically: Autoflyers, the rovers that whizzed through the air at light speed: pills that morphed you into whoever you dreamed of being: cryo-sleep for the rich and curious to see the future. Anything the world mustered up had been solved and modified years and years ago.

“Due to the severity of… your kind, we’ve been forced to keep the commoners out, when all we would like is to open our doors to the good people of this continent. But, I guess, a few bad apples do spoil the bunch.”

I took his side, turning to see that more had gathered on the level under the Reapers. Life-like women and men, clothed in colorless dresses, suits and jackets, like a bunch of extravagant and expensive ghosts. They came prepared for the distance they put between themselves and the action, with gold-crested telescopes that gave them the illusion of the front row.

“I’m a mercenary for the people, in reality I’d be doing them a favor by getting rid of the likes of you. Then we could so graciously open the walls, let the people stay and be harmonious. But, it’s your fault that that cannot happen… At least, not yet. However, for now, I’m satisfied with torturing you, and then killing you.”

The man in the water didn’t move, his muscles had stopped pulling against the chains under the liquid. I felt a lump clog my throat, looking to the Reapers who readied their weapons, then to my father, who had a smug, yet dissatisfied look on his face. His body language spelled out a dominance that he tried to portray beyond surface-level, but on the inside we’re all the same. He groaned, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping against the fabric.

The rumbling of the hungry sky overtook the hair-raising silence, my heart thumping against my ribcage. I knew his sentence, it was always the same for everyone unfortunate enough to grace the stone-circle. Everyone knew it, the countless times we’ve gathered nullifying the thrill. Nonetheless we swarmed like a pack of hyenas awaiting their next meal, leaning against and over the cracked-glass railing.

Harmonizing with the thunder that rattled the pebbles was my father’s booming voice as he clasped his hands together, refocusing the attention back to him. My breath didn't steady, my heartbeat filling my ears and stomach. “On the charges of perjury, treason, murder and conspiring against Sector One, I hereby sentence you to the capital punishment.”

Death.

It would go by quickly now. The Reapers would charge their weapons and all fire at once, the yellow smoke would appear and then the lifeless clapping would follow, like it's always been, and will always be. The fist of death would squeeze too tight and he’d suffocate, eradicating his existence from this plain, and then we’d go back to being cozy inside our concrete sanctuary.

Regardless of how it was supposed to go, a dark clothed, hooded figure erupted from the crowd. A commotion ensued — screams from the women who fled in heels, and the men who were too much of cowards to interfere. They fumbled to the only exit they knew would lead them back to their comfort blanket, probably cursing themselves for having the desire to leave in the first place. But, it was curiosity that killed the cat.

I could see that the blonde had lifted his head, spewing out something in the general vicinity of the hooded figure, that I couldn’t interpret. They made brief eye-contact, and he got to his feet, his arms free from the chains that laid lifeless in his place. The Reapers began to climb down floor by floor, a couple staying back, responsible for the artificial blue-light that shot at them — slicing the air with deadly speed.

Thunder cracked, adding to the dramatics. The dimly lit structure flashed with the lightning that came before, my eyes moving frantically against the scene unfolding. I couldn’t comprehend a single thought that was crossing my mind, frozen like a deer in headlights. My father was gone, the people still crowding past me, bumping me so hard that I lost footing. Yellow smoke came up from the slabs of concrete, and I could feel a familiar burning in my eyes and lungs. It seared the skin, coating it with a thick pain that I was usually already too far away to feel.

My eyes and nose were covered as I was lifted from the ground, darkness taking over quickly as I was dragged away. I could hear the storm picking up, the pauses between the anomalies shorter as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The grasp on my arms was the only thing keeping me from fully passing out; the bruising force that I couldn’t even imagine beginning to fight against. My stomach turned with the sky, the inevitable thought of death encasing me as I tripped and slipped along the rocks.

After what I presumed through the fog, was some time, the shouting and footsteps grew distant. I could make out the faint sound of Autoflyers in the distance, solidifying that I was headed back to Sector One. Reapers had rescued me, not the man in the water.

Though it was all theory because Reapers never spoke, not being allowed to. They were trained to act like death, earning their name so graciously. I could’ve actually been a pawn in a bargain that was about to take place; or maybe I was going to be collateral in a shootout. Whatever it was, I couldn’t waste my depleted breath on something so trivial as a question that may or may-not be answered.

It had all started back, around four hundred and seventy-five years ago, when the first revolution took place. Sector One hadn’t been a thought at that point, but it seemed like overnight, when the first bomb was detonated, the walls were built up to brush against the sky. The mile-wide stone that divided the, so-called, worthy of sanctuary from the rest. We’ve lived in a harmonious fear, neither crossing the threshold of another revolution.

That doesn’t stop rumors from spreading, the ashes contaminating the lungs of whoever breathes them in. The whisper against the wind: Sector One will fall. And, there weren’t many people who feared that to be true (my father was one of them) but I knew something was wrong when the amount of trials I’ve attended had grown exponentially. Something is on the rise, and I can’t foretell when or where it will hit first.

Nonetheless, isn’t it always the clam before the storm that makes people go crazy with anticipation — taking all control from their grips. Humans are simple creatures of habit, and change terrifies them.

all rights reserved copyright © loserlvrss 2024

tag list: @s-h-y-a send an ask to be added! masterlist next part

[briebysabs]

Vnc OP 1 - Sora to Utsuro

We are here again! I’ll be taking the time to talk of VnC’s first opening and breaking down the lyrics. Specifically in regards to what I will refer to as the dream loop theory. If you don’t know what I mean by that, the base summary is that the VnC universe is a story. Noé is the narrator, the character, the archiver and the creator. Noé is writing the memoires to manifest his memories. Let’s call it a memory world. He does this either to escape his regret-filled reality or to save Vanitas. However, when he “loops”, he doesn���t remember why he’s there so everything plays out the way it was written in the memoires.

Then Noé will live on, write the memoires again, and the cycle continues. And because he’s done this countless times, the memoirs gradually stray away from the original story. I’ll elaborate further when talking about OP 1. Right about now!

This was the main translation I could find for the full song (not including English covers but I could reach the same conclusions for those as well) If anyone has other translations for the whole thing, I’d love to see it. https://youtu.be/G_bJwB1YePw?si=xPVlV3_Fd57S-Bo1

/You’re pondering the simple things, pretty much human emotions and love/

/I hope one day you’ll understand/

/Too many wounds have left you patched together, a miserable sight/

/That doesn’t even know the definition of alive/

It is confirmed that this opening is from Noe’s POV. But keep in mind for the rest of this thread, it’s future Noé speaking. There are two main readings for the song; for the most part it’s Noé talking to or about Vanitas. And then there’s Noé talking to himself. This part has both interpretations.

Noé to Vanitas: Vanitas does struggle to understand his emotions throughout the story, that includes love. Vanitas is a broken individual, has too many wounds/trauma Noé cannot ignore and for a long time, was fueled by getting his “revenge”. Thus he’s forgotten what it means to live. You can also read into “doesn’t know the definition of alive” in a meta sense, from the beginning of the story he’s already dead.

And the very name ‘Vanitas’ is surrounded with the imagery of death, futility and mortality. So yes, Vanitas as a concept doesn’t know what ‘alive’ is.

Noé to himself: Noé as well is trying to figure out human emotions. This is a case study of a human after all. The memoirs follow Noe’s journey in understanding Vanitas’ thinking. And we’ve had Noé blatantly ask Vanitas what love means. But we can read this as Noé , sort of telling his past self that one day he will understand and feel this pain. Take note of “many wounds have left you patched together”. As I said, he could be talking about how “fragile” Vanitas is but what if this is about himself?

/No need to say “just the two of us” or anything/

/I have a feeling we can understand each other/

/And that’s fine for now/

This is calling to the Catacombs Arc, where Vanitas repeats Noe’s line of being able to do anything together. Interesting enough, it’s that arc where we see a bit of Vanitas’ backstory and it ends with the two sitting against each other. An understanding has been reached. Of course we all know that’s what VnC is about but of course he adds the ‘for now’ because what would this show be without its looming doom.

/I love this world and the light only you give me/

/Makes the world I see through these fractured eyes/

/Look gleaming and bright/

It’s these verses that made me want to spend more time on this. First of all, ‘I love this world’, a little weird right? I can only hope this translation is the most accurate but we’re saying ‘this’ instead of ‘the world’. Makes it sound like “I like this one. I prefer this one.” And ‘the light only you give me’ is very odd if we’re saying this is from Noe’s POV. Emphasis on ONLY.

Another reason why I believe it’s future Noé singing because why would present Noé say Vanitas is the only light he has? Vanitas is the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Vanitas being the sole reason Noé loves the world…doesn’t line up with the Noé we’re seeing now. Now it could be Vanitas is a “special” light. But that kinda raises more alarms because Vanitas is very admired in this song guys. And present Noé I feel wouldn’t be so sure in proclaiming this. The world being seen through fractured eyes could be multiple things. We know Noé sustained an injury on his left eye when Teacher bought him.

This could feed into a theory that has been speculated over the years that Noe’s vision was permanently altered and he sees things from that eye differently. Of course, it could refer to future Noe’s perception of life being broken due to the events of the series. Thus why Vanitas is the one thing that makes it gleaming and bright. You could then ask “But Vanitas is gone in the future so how is that possible?” In comes my theory. It’s interesting how Noé is often associated with light, the sun etc. but here we see him give those characteristics to Vanitas’ presence.

/There’s no such thing as a sure thing/

/But you can see me can’t you?/

Things get a little fuzzy here. Obviously, nothing is sure, nothing lasts forever. This period of happiness will pass. But “you can see me”. Assuming this world is a memory, this could be Noé being elated from seeing Vanitas. That his plan has worked. But you can also interpret this, I forgot who pointed it out but ty whoever you are, that this is the one moment Vanitas interjects in the song. Essentially saying, “you can see me, so this is not real.” As if trying to wake Noé up. And if you look at the OP itself, for most of it Vanitas is following or lagging behind Noé like a ghost. There’s even a part where Noé is looking at a drawing of a view instead a real one, Vanitas is yelling at him, trying to get his attention and Noé ignores him completely. Not to mention the OP starts and ends with Noé sleeping, Vanitas nor his belongings ever in the room almost as if it was all a dream hmmm.

You can see this also as Noé acknowledging the world he has created is only temporary. Noé knows this isn’t real, isn’t a sure thing. But then Vanitas comes in to be like “you can see me, can’t you. So is it that bad?”

/I’m pondering the simple things, pretty much emptiness and frigidity/

/One by one lies have increased/

/Playing with a simple puppet/

/My rusted head is shaking/

We’ve contrasted “human emotions and love” with “emptiness and frigidity” here. Frigid here means the bitter cold, stiff, lacking in warmth. The opposite of what Noé says this world gives him so safe guess, he’s talking about the reality he is escaping. Where Vanitas is dead as well as a lot of his friends. The lies have built upon each other, adding to my theory where the numerous times Noé has done this has created layers upon layers of worlds. And each one has more inaccuracies than the last. This is his story, a play, he is the writer and the puppeteer of everyone’s roles. When they appear, what they say and do is decided by what Noé writes in the memoires. But by all the loops he’s made himself a puppet too. His head being rusted could hint at many, many years passing since everything happened. What’s even more interesting is remember, Vanitas is the one usually associated with cold and emptiness. So why is Noé assigning those things to his thoughts? It really shows how future Noé has come to view Vanitas vs himself. Because ignoring any theories or whatever for a second, future Noé is clearly burdened with regrets and hate towards himself.

/Your laughing was reflected by a daydream/

/Without knowing yet we just want to laugh/

/Throw away the answer, whatever you want is fine for now/

We circle back to the dream thing again. What is a daydream? It’s something you fantasize about when you are bored or in need of a distraction. A reflection looks and behaves exactly like you, copies your movements, but is it real? We all know mirrors and reflections play a major role in the story. Whether having mirrors or frames in official art or volume covers. Characters reflecting each other like Vanitas/Astolfo, Domi/Louis, Ruthven/Noé etc. I think the “throw away the answer” is interesting, it could be Noé again knowing what the “right” thing to do is but is desperate to see Vanitas laugh. Feels very much like a “oh forget about all that, what do you wanna do?” Noé putting other people before himself and being selfless to a fault.

/I love this world that lacks everything/

/If the mechanical echoes/

/Everything seems to be laughable/

/I can’t be proud of it/

/But isn’t the burning dream beautiful/

Why would you love a hollow world? This is Noé saying this. How can a world lack everything if it’s meant to be real? Unless it isn’t. Unless it lacks what you truly desire even if you claim to love it regardless. Echoes fall into the same vein as reflections I brought up previously. ‘Mechanical’ implies it’s a machine, tying back to it being empty and hollow. Lacking realness. And it’s funny, Noé says he’s not proud of it. His world, his creation if you will. That it’s laughable even but then goes on to call it beautiful. Think about that for a minute. The dream is burning because Vanitas will always die no matter what Noé does. Everything will go up in flames, it’s only temporary but guess what? To Noé, this fleeting period of happiness is far better than whatever he has left when he wakes up.

/When the sky and the void meet look back because the dreams will come later/

/When the sky and the void meet look back be still in bloom/

/When the sky and the void meet born and die repeatedly/

/The future and lies break and laugh/

We’ll stop here because the song then goes back to the first chorus “I love this world and the light you give me” stuff. This part of the OP I would say is the most vague, you can read this a lot of ways. However you want to interpret it, there is a clear loop going on. We can see “sky and void” as metaphors for Vanitas and Noé. Personally I’d say Noé is the void because of that official art that has Vanitas with a clear sky in the background and Noé is sinking into the darkness. Similar to when he drinks someone’s blood and sees their memories.

But while Vanitas has a few purple butterflies, Noé is given that distinct glowing blue butterfly. Vanitas is Noe’s light. We talk about that art for hours but that's for another day. Plus given how Noé talks in this song, it’s safe to say he sees himself as the void. And once they meet the dreams will come later, to be born and die repeatedly. Meeting could be their actual meeting from chapter one and the cycle/memory world begins from there. It could be wherever fuck they were when Noé failed to grab Vanitas’ hand. The future and lies….what lies? Who my dear readers would be lying to us :000. But eventually that mountain of lies will come tumbling down.

And, no theory just pure delulu I’ve always headcanoned that when Vanitas dies Noé is going to break out laughing. So if that happens the op spoiled it.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

HELL–BOUND. ₂

mcu!peter parker | zombie apocalypse au. CHAPTER TWO.

IN WHICH you & peter are humanity’s last hope of salvation from HYDRA’s zombie apocalypse, but will lingering feelings from the past get in the way of that?

read chapter one.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

“We have to get me to Wakanda.. so that they can kill me.”

You swore the world froze the second the words left your mouth. The truth didn’t feel real, even though you’d come to terms with the fate you knew was required of you. But the way Peter stared at you so profoundly; the way he stood from his seat, took paces towards you, the look he kept in his eyes. It made you feel like maybe there was a way out of it. 

“No.” Was all he said at first. And it wasn’t a reply, it was a command. It was a word of promise, of protection, of truth. And it made you swallow back the responsibility you forced upon yourself. The mask of acceptance you wore nearly broke in half, falling victim to the look of intensity Peter shot at you. It was a look that he hadn’t used with you in this new world. His eyes hadn’t glistened like that since before the outbreak. “No. I won’t let you die.”

The firmly stated words brought up the denial you’d been shoving down—hope you’d been trying to bury. It was a feeling that seemed childish to carry, childish and unwelcome and something that had no place here. 

So you shrugged. Blank stare, blank expression. You tried not to show him the trembling in your fingers, or the quickening of your breath at his demeanor. You tried to hide the panic that overtook your senses. “Maybe I don’t have to.” You spoke with honesty, glancing behind Peter at the folder he’d left at his seat. “But you read what I read?” It was more of a confirmation than a question. 

It took Peter more strength than he’d ever admit to peel his eyes from you. To turn back in his tracks and grab the folder. “Yeah, but–” He cut himself off, flipping through the papers. Skimming the pages that you’d highlighted and dog–eared and read through. The files that you stole. “What is this?”

“The initiative.” The answer was quick. You knew what you were talking about. You’d been preached to about this initiative since the day you dared to step foot back into HYDRA. The day the world fell apart. “We were pawns in their greater schemes, Peter. You and I–” There was a pause. A revelation. A confession. “We started this.” And you looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in weeks. “We have to end it.”

Peter flipped through the pages, looking over headshots of the two of you, side by side. You didn’t have to read over his shoulder or even see the pages to know where he was at, what he was reading — assessing the words you were saying and connecting them with the written ones he read. He connected the dots, consumed in silence from his state of denial. You watched the curve of his brows as they sewed together, the sight of him merely standing in front of you was a forgotten comfort. His presence was a forgotten comfort. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until you’d given yourself a second to think about it. 

And you didn’t have that second right now. 

“How do you know this is real?” His eyes met yours, pleading, begging for this to be something merely theorized, fictional, anything other than reality. There was a curiosity to them that told you more than he wanted to admit right then; he wanted the answers you had to give, but he also wanted to figure out how to keep you safe first. 

You’d nearly forgotten just how well you knew how to read him. 

Parting your lips, you choked on the words. This was the hard part. He watched you struggle, and it reminded you just how much you hated showing weakness–just how little weakness you’d shown in the past month to anybody. Being this vulnerable and naked to someone gave you a glimpse of the person you were, and it scared you to feel like you’d reverted. It scared you to remember that person, and to forget that they’d even existed for a minute. 

You set your backpack on the floor. You shook off your jacket, tossing it too. The urgency and the lack of explanation kept Peter staring, lured and locked in. It kept him speechless as you grabbed the edges of your sweatshirt and pulled it up and off of you; kept him speechless at the crimson lining his cheeks at the sight of you in a camisole, and instantly catching his breath at the sight of teeth accenting your biceps. Scars outlining multiple rows of another person’s teeth. Dried blood and teeth. 

Peter nearly dropped the pile of paper’s in his hands, but he played it off. His fingers rubbed down the length of his cupid’s bow, down his lips and over his chin. It was his obvious tell, to you, that he was stressed, undeniably worried. Consumed, tormented. “Holy shit, Y/N.. What the hell..” He didn’t even have the words, the strength, to keep the sentence going. 

Forcing oxygen, you forced a front with it. Mustered courage, false strength. You knew he saw the way your arms trembled, that he saw through any kind of mask you’d try to develop. “Pietro–” You took another breath, sharper than before. “Pietro bit me. It healed him..” You found the words, right before grief finally caught up to you. “Right before they...”

Your focus steadied right under Peter’s eyeline, knowing you’d break if you met his stare. He could see you, watch you break, but somehow there was some kind of fake security when you didn’t have to watch his reaction to it. 

But then again, Peter knew you, and you’d forgotten that. His hands were gentle when they grabbed your shaking shoulders. When you’d found the second of strength to meet his eyes, you watched him study the length of you; he assessed your damage, made up stories in his head of all the ways they’d tortured you. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of tension in his jaw and the agony in his eyes. 

He didn’t say anything before he pulled you to him, hugging you with more words than he knew how to articulate in that moment. The tender press of his hand to your back, the nudge of his head against your temple, and the gentle squeeze of his arms around you, it told you everything. This was the way he’d pictured reuniting with you, this is what kept him going. Finding you. He’d missed you. 

And you’d missed him. You’d forced yourself to forget it, to be blinded by anger, to forget the way you were the last time you’d seen him. You threw your arms around him, finally allowing yourself to break into pieces. You unlocked the doors that you’d forced your feelings behind, broke down the walls you forced your emotions to fortify within. You finally gave yourself the time to process everything you had to witness this past month. 

The separation and deaths of your found family, the unbearable torture and experimentation HYDRA had you undergo, the unwanted reunion with your parents; watching and causing the death of your best friend, being the reason Natasha wasn’t with you right now, and finally, greeting your boyfriend by kissing his cheek with a slap across the face. 

Being in his touch made the world feel normal, made you feel selfish. It felt selfish to forget what state society was in. It reminded you of a life before the outbreak, before everything was poisoned and damaged and dystopian. It felt incredibly selfish to be in a state so domestic, especially when the weight of the world was on your shoulders. 

Peter pulled back from the hug just enough to see your face. To hold your face in his hands and wipe the tears from your eyes. To see you. He took a few deep breaths, almost like he was trying to remind you to breathe as well. His hands slid down your jaw, your neck, cautiously running his fingers over the scarring on your arms. “Was he–” He paused, “Was he the only one who bit you?”

The tears felt stale now. You sucked in a breath, bringing yourself back into the harshness of the present moment. “No.” You sniffled, taking the cue to clear your throat and forcefully return the little amount of strength you had left. “When he came back, they had two other subjects bite me.” You glanced from one arm to the other, seeing as both limbs were decorated. “The other two bites were from walkers on the street.. Before you found me.” Both of you could see the lingering flakes of drying blood lining your biceps. 

You pulled back from Peter’s touch, grabbing your sweatshirt from the floor. Just as you went to force it over your head, Peter gently grabbed your arm. His eyes traced from the jawed scarring up to meet yours. “Can I–?” He cut himself off, taking a small breath. A nervous pause. “There’s running water here. You should shower.” He pulled his touch back with the comment.

A small smile touched your lips. “Are you saying I smell bad, Parker?” The response triggered from a forgotten instinct, finding that small pocket of normalcy between the two of you. And Peter mirrored your smile, laughing a little. 

“Well, I was planning on telling you earlier, but you slapped me.” It was a joke, and you knew it was a joke, but you cringed at the memory. You felt the apology bubble up your throat, and you parted your lips to tell him, but he cut you off before you got the chance. “C’mon. I’ll get you some clothes.” And he led the way. 

Silence filled the open space between the two of you. It was much more comfortable than before, despite the unspoken panic and urgency that laced the undertones; despite the unspoken fact that the two of you were still technically dating. 

Peter opened a door for you, flipping his right arm over to check the time on his wrist–watch. “We’re losing sunlight, so I think we should crash here tonight and battle–plan, then we can head out tomorrow after sunrise.”

Your eyes scanned the unclaimed bedroom before you, and how there were items of yours from the compound that you’d completely forgotten about. That you learned to grieve like they were lost in a fire. Your favorite band tees were salvaged, a music box that Sam gifted you sat on a bookshelf—a bookshelf with at least fifteen of the books you once had kept upstate. Empty spaces sat between certain spots and books, indicating that some series would always remain spacious and missing in their collections. 

You couldn’t get your lips to touch from the shock and gratitude that ledged between them. It hit you like bricks that Nat and Peter had been expecting you, it left you speechless to think about just how long they had been. You were in captivity for a month. This was a project. 

Clearing his throat, Peter leaned against the wooden doorframe beside you, giving you enough space between you to keep things comfortable. “While Natasha tried to find a way back to base to save you, I had some free time.”

The comment made you finally meet his eyes. His stare had already been settled on you, studying you in a way he hadn’t gotten the chance to since your reunion; taking you in like he used to, scanning your face for a reaction. 

The apology you owed him from earlier blistering in the back of your throat, forced back by the chokehold of tears, the hollowness weighting your tongue. And once again, as you gathered the strength to say it, Peter cut you off. 

He cleared his throat again, “I’ll go start us some dinner. You, uh– You let me know if you need anything.” And Peter rushed off, as if he knew what you were trying to say to him. It were like he didn’t feel deserving of the apology you’d been wanting to give him. 

It broke your heart to think like that. 

Or perhaps, he was scared he was losing you. That you’d both felt like the domestic bond you had built didn’t have a place in this new world. At least, not yet. But was that just the two of you punishing yourselves?

You’d kept the train of thought as you showered, washing off the trauma and painful experiences you’d lived through this past month. It felt freeing to wipe yourself clean, to run your fingers through a head of refreshed hair. Scrubbing off your wounds, the dirt under your fingernails, the scabbing on your limbs. 

A shower was desperately needed, a liberty you’d taken advantage of when it was at easy access. So were clean clothes. 

You chose a short sleeved band tee that you’d taken from Peter’s wardrobe a few months back; it was a black graphic Red Hot Chili Peppers top, his favorite. It made you curious on why he kept it with your clothes, but it also warmed your heart at the remnant of the memory; he always used to say that it looked better on you. 

The smell of food quickly filled your senses the second you’d left your room, and the loud growl of your stomach reminded you of just how long you’d gone without eating properly. HYDRA had really only served you necessary nutrients through an IV needle, so the scent of roasted vegetables was a surprise more than welcomed. Even if Peter could only cook canned food. 

You practically inhaled your food, and Peter gladly gave you the bulk of it. He made you drink two glasses of water, mixing in electrolyte substances in with them too. He took care of you, and it made your heart swell. 

Once you were done eating, he wouldn’t let you clean your dish, either. Not because he treated you like a guest, but because he had a spot on the counter next to a first–aid kit ready for you. 

The room was quiet, and it had been. It wasn’t only due to how dire your need for food was, but also because the two of you were lost in thought; finally assessing and processing things you didn’t allow before knowing the other was okay, finally realizing just how much the weight of the world rested in your hands. 

Peter was silent, focused, as he opened the kit. You kicked your legs back and forth on the kitchen counter, watching the crease of his brow as he avoided your eye contact. He stood beside you, scared to stand too close to your personal space, but keeping minimal distance in case the company was appreciated. He didn’t want to read your mind, but he also didn’t know how to ask these questions. And you couldn’t blame him. 

You didn’t either. 

He grabbed a rag, blotting it with rubbing alcohol as he pushed up the sleeve of your his shirt. “This might sting a little.” He warned, keeping his focus on which of the bite–marks were the freshest. 

Your lips pursed, raising a slight brow at him. “I think I’ve handled worse–” The sentence trailed off as your lips pressed to a harsh line, quick to take back your words. It did sting, and you pressed your free hand to the counter to try and subside it. “Shit..” You muttered, cursed, tried to focus on anything but the pain. 

Without a word, Peter opened his free hand on the counter beside yours, offering it if needed. And it was, very much so. You took it without question, not even waiting a second before you squeezed it in yours, counting the seconds it took for the fizzling liquid to do its work. To fade away. Knowing how long you had undergone torture in the HYDRA base, you knew these wounds were better off cleaned in Peter’s care than ignored. 

Taking in deep breaths, you looked up at Peter. His eyes fixed just beyond your eyeline, watching his movements with careful accuracy. You tried to guess his thoughts by analyzing the way he looked at your arm, but you knew your method of mind–reading would always fall short. And just when you’d gotten the courage to part your lips and talk about his band–tee, Peter beat you to breaking the silence. 

“Was it really my fault?”

The question certainly took your mind off the burns now lacing your arm. You scanned his eyes again when he finally met yours, trying to find the right way to answer him. Your bottom lip lodged between your teeth for a second, but you knew you couldn’t find the answer in avoidance. 

“I can’t say it’s not.. But we shouldn’t have hid so much from you…” You spoke honestly. The way his shoulders squared, you could tell he didn’t want to hear it. Perhaps he’d wished that you would’ve lied to his face, but that wasn’t who you were. Still, this wasn’t his grievance to carry. You blamed yourself for the way he was punishing himself for everything. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

Suddenly, his expression shifted. He paused what he was doing to study you, brows sewn together in confusion for a brief second. “But you were right–”

You cut him off, shaking your head. “I was wrong to pin it on you.” Your statement was solid, a foundation of earnesty. Your hand found a place on his cheek, immediately realizing that it was too comfortable, too intimate. Quickly, you moved it to his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't have noticed. “I took out my anger on you—” The right words to say scrambled in your brain, but what came out was truthful, and Peter could see that. “I–I was hurt. I thought you’d compromised the mission because you didn’t trust me.”

“I compromised the mission because I found out they’d sent you alone into HYDRA.” His entire demeanor melted into empathy and understanding. Your vulnerability seemed to melt the weight of how much responsibility he’d taken on for the downfall of society. “I trusted you completely. I thought they’d blindsided you– Sent you back to the place that brought you so much pain..” Peter was the only person who knew the extent of your upbringing with HYDRA, even though most of the Avengers had read your file. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, both having more understanding of the other. 

Peter went back to cleaning out your arms, nearly done with one of them. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve stayed out of it–”

Your grip tightened on his hand. “Peter—”

“I should’ve stayed at base. None of this would’ve happened..” His jaw tightened, upset with himself. “I’m sorry–”

Your hand found his cheek again, and this time, you kept it there. “Peter.” You waited until he gave you his attention, until there was confidence in the fact that he was listening. “We can’t live in the past like this.. It happened, and now we’re going to fix it.” The ghost of a broken smile found your lips, trying to feed him reassurance. “But for what it’s worth.. I forgive you.”

The words he processed eased the ache of his sorrows. Peter’s posture relaxed, but he tried not to show it too much. “Thank you..” He spoke quietly, grabbing a bandage and a strip of gauze from the box beside you. Peter gave your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing your hold, using both of his hands to wrap your left arm. 

Both of you fell into a comfortable bit of silence for a few minutes before the rest of the night filled with casual small talk and tiny fits of laughter. You finally allowed yourself to sit in it, be present with him; be present with the selfishness of being happy for a minute. You’d missed seeing Peter light up when he spoke about certain topic, the way he was so attentive to you; how thoughtful he was, the way his tongue poked out on occasion when he was focused. 

And you’d never know that he missed you just the same. Being in your presence alone seemed to lift a grievance off his shoulders. Neither of you asked whether you were still dating or not, but neither of you felt the need to. 

Because you both shared the same thought: you were going to find Natasha and you were going to right your wrongs. You were going to save the world, together. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Kay Princesses' Happily Ever After

This is intended to be Part 2 of The Kay Princesses

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: Deacon wants to marry you, but he has to ensure that his kids understand and agree before he proposes. Then, you have a special question for Lila.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, Annie's fate is up to you

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

A/N: While this is a part 2, it is written from a different POV. I think it could also be read as a standalone, but there are references to the events of part 1. I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Rules & Info

Deacon’s kids don’t get to visit him at HQ much anymore, so when they have a day off school and 20 Squad is on standby, he decides to take them by. His team loves seeing them and playing with them – none more than Luca. While they’re there, however, Deacon decides that today is also the day to ask them the most important question he may ever ask. He wants to marry you, he’s known that for much longer than he has had the ring, but he has to get their approval first. Since the beginning, you and he have both understood that if any of the kids said no, you would step back. Deacon prays that you don’t have to step back after walking so far together.

After he calls Matthew, Lila, and Samuel back to his side, he prepares to leave for the day.

“Hey, good luck, Deac!” Luca calls.

Deacon nods his head in thanks, then leads his kids back to the car. He gets to spend the afternoon with them for once, so he’ll ask them as soon as he finds the right words. They eat lunch together, then the kids go to their separate rooms to entertain themselves while Deacon cleans the kitchen.

When he’s done, Deacon takes a deep breath and walks to Lila’s room. She’ll probably say yes, but Deacon prepares himself for the worst. Her door is open, and she’s lying on her bed coloring.

“Lila, can we talk for a minute?” Deacon asks from the doorway of her room.

“Yeah, Daddy,” she answers.

Deacon nods, and Lila frowns at the look on his face. He’s nervous, and she can tell that something isn’t quite right. After he closes her door, he sits on the side of her bed and takes a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” Lila asks.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart, I just need to ask you something. But, if you want to say no, you can. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Deacon says your name, then stops. He hasn’t told the kids how serious things have gotten with you yet. His team knows, of course, but this is the moment where a single word from any of his children could end what he has with you.

“I want to marry her,” Deacon adds softly. He smiles kindly at Lila before he asks, “Would you be alright with that?”

Lila slides her coloring book aside and climbs into Deacon’s lap. He holds her upright, so she doesn’t fall, and when she wraps her arms firmly around him, he tightens his grip on her.

“Will she live here?” Lila asks.

“Yes, or maybe we could get another house.” He doesn’t want to explain that if they don’t want you in the same house where they knew Annie, he’d move without question.

“And she’ll look like a princess in her white dress, right?”

Deacon smiles as he answers, “Absolutely. And you can wear a dress to be a princess, too.”

“I like her,” Lila says. “I want you to get married.”

Deacon sighs, and hugs Lila to his chest. He whispers that he loves her, and Lila laughs before she murmurs, “I know.”

When Deacon exits her room, he sees the sign hanging across the hall that says, ‘Boys Only (except Lila).’ Samuel will be easily convinced; he thinks you’re the greatest person ever because you know all the shortcuts in Candy Land. Matthew, however, despite having come a long way in his treatment of you, may not be so eager to welcome the idea of having you around all the time. Deacon knocks on the door, and it pushes open.

“Dad! Look!” Matthew calls. He holds up two toys that he has hooked together. “It worked.”

“That’s awesome, bud. Good job,” Deacon responds. “Can you take a break from playing for a minute? I need to ask you something.”

“You’re getting married?” Matthew guesses as he sets his modified toy aside.

“I- why do you think that?” Deacon asks.

“Uncle Luca told you good luck,” Samuel interjects. “Why do you need it?”

“Alright, boys, let’s go back. I want to get married, yes, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t. So, are you comfortable with her being here more?”

“Yes!” Samuel cheers. Deacon smiles, though he suspected as much.

“She’s not replacing Mom, right?” Matthew asks quietly.

“Not at all.”

Matthew nods. “You should do it, Dad. I like her, and she makes you happy.”

Deacon pulls Matthew into a hug without much thought. Matthew groans but returns the affection. Soon, there will be another Kay Princess in the house who may get an exception to the boys-only rule.

Kids are notoriously bad at keeping secrets, and the bigger the secret, the faster it will be shared. So, the moment Deacon learns that his kids like you and support his decision to marry you, he calls you. There’s not much planning or time to make the moment special, but Deacon can’t go another moment without asking you. As Hondo said, the ring is burning him after holding onto it for so long.

When you knock on Deacon’s door, you expect him to open it. Instead, Lila welcomes you in wearing her favorite dress.

“You look beautiful, Lila,” you tell her.

She hugs you, then leads you through the house and to the back door. Outside, the lights Deacon put up to decorate his backyard are aglow in the darkening dusk sky. Deacon stands beneath the tree in the center of the yard, and Matthew and Samuel wait on the deck.

“What’s going on?” you ask them.

Samuel presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head while Matthew answers, “A surprise. Dad wants to tell you.”

“Oh,” you reply softly.

Lila waves for you to go, and you walk off of the deck and into the grass. When you reach Deacon, his smile changes. He takes both of your hands and pulls you closer.

“Thanks for coming,” he begins.

“Of course. What’s going on?” you inquire. “This is beautiful, but…”

“You’re beautiful,” Deacon replies. “And you’re smart, caring, you love my kids… I love you, and every princess quality that you have. I can’t imagine my life without you on my team.”

Deacon releases your right hand as he kneels. Your eyes widen as he pulls a black box from his pocket.

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me, and being on my team, at my side, for the rest of our lives?”

You nod quickly, unable to speak past the tears pressing against your eyes. After a shaky breath, you mumble, “Yes, Deacon. Yes!”

He slides the ring onto your finger, and you don’t even look at it before you hug him. Deacon’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, and he holds you against him as he stands. Behind you, his kids cheer together. You pull back enough to kiss him, then look over your shoulder at Lila, Matthew, and Samuel.

“They’re okay with this?” you whisper.

“More than okay. They’re gaining another Kay princess in their lives, too,” Deacon assures you.

You watch Lila twirl in her dress and realize that they’re as much a part of this as you are.

“Deacon, can I ask Lila to be my maid of honor?”

Deacon smiles and kisses you again. Being a Kay princess is far more rewarding than you anticipated.

“Good morning,” Deacon greets when he answers the door. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome, as always,” you reply.

Deacon welcomes you in, and you kiss his cheek as you pass him.

“Is she ready?”

“Almost.” Deacon laughs before he drops his voice to explain, “She keeps changing. She wants to look perfect.”

“Then would you please take her this?”

You pass Deacon a pink gift bag, and he can’t deny your smile, so he delivers it to Lila’s room. Her squeal reaches your ears in the living room, and your smile widens as Deacon returns.

“What is it?” Deacon asks.

“A matching princess dress. Today had to be special.”

“Every day is special with you.”

“We match!” Lila exclaims.

You look away from Deacon to see her standing before you. She smiles at you before she rushes to hug you. At Deacon’s silent prompting, she thanks you for the dress.

“Well, we’re off to enjoy a princess day,” you tell Deacon.

“Enjoy. Call if you need anything.”

You promise to do just that, then take Lila’s hand and lead her outside. It’s a big day for both of you. Lila gets to live like a princess and spend the day with another girl, and you get to ask her to be your maid of honor. You don’t doubt that she’ll say yes, but just in case, you have a backup plan to involve her in the wedding party another way.

By lunch, Lila is getting tired. She doesn’t want to stop, however, until you tell her about a fairytale-themed restaurant you’d like to try. Easily convinced, you hold her hand as you enter the whimsical building and are led to your seats.

“Lila, have you ever been to a wedding?” you ask her.

“Mmhmm. One of Dad’s work friends,” she answers.

“Do you know what a maid of honor is?” Lila shakes her head, so you ask, “What about a bridesmaid?”

“The girls who stand with the bride?”

“Yep, those are bridesmaids. But the one that stands closest to the bride is called a maid of honor, and it’s usually the bride’s best friend or a girl who is really, really important to her.”

Lila nods along with your explanation, and when you see your waitress returning with your glittery pink princess drinks, you decide to ask sooner rather than later. You set an envelope on the table, with her name written elegantly across the front.

“Would you like to be my maid of honor, Lila?” you ask.

The waitress stops when she hears your question. She smiles and nods to assure you it’s fine to finish before she delivers your beverages.

“Like your best friend?” Lila whispers.

“Yeah. Because you’re super special.”

“And we’re both Dad’s princesses?”

You smile and answer, “That too.”

“Really?”

“Open the letter.”

Lila pulls the card out of the envelope. It’s a picture of a castle with two princesses curtseying, and underneath it reads, “Join me on our special day?”

“Yes!” Lila answers. “I want to!”

She slides out of her seat and rounds the table. Lila hugs you tightly, and you pull the chair beside you out so that she can stay on the same side of the table as you.

“Congratulations, your highnesses,” your waitress says. “I’m sure you’ll be the best maid of honor ever.”

“Thank you!” Lila replies.

“Thank you,” you add.

“So, what do I do?” Lila asks you.

“Lots of things. But I think we should get some lunch before we go shopping for your maid of honor dress.”

Lila quickly agrees and leans against your arm to look at the menu with you.

The morning of your wedding is spent getting ready with your closest friends and family. Luca and Street invite themselves into the bridal suite as well when they hear from Lila that you have snacks.

“Are you nervous?” Luca asks. “Deacon’s reviewed his vows like fifteen times.”

“Should I be?” you reply. “Because I’ve honestly never been this happy and excited in my life.”

“Me neither!” Lila agrees, swishing the skirt of her dress around her legs.

“Deac just wants it to be perfect, special for all of you,” Street adds.

“I would’ve married him at the courthouse the morning after he proposed,” you point out. “It’s already more perfect than I ever expected.”

“We’ll tell him that as soon as we’re done,” Street says, reaching for another cookie.

“Aren’t groomsmen supposed to stay with the groom?” you ask Luca.

“He told me to bring Lila back,” Luca argues. “Never said I had to return by a certain time.”

“Have you seen Deacon cry?” Street asks.

“No,” you say. “Why?”

“Because he is absolutely going to cry when you walk down the aisle, and during your vows, and again after it’s official.”

Luca nods in agreement, and you turn to make sure your mascara is waterproof.

When you step out onto the aisle, your eyes meet Deacon’s and everything else fades away. All that matters in this moment is Deacon Kay and the life you’re entering with him. Which includes his kids. Lila is waiting beside your spot with a smile, Matthew stands between Luca and Deacon on the other side, and Samuel is waving from the front row after delivering the rings to the officiant.

As you begin walking toward Deacon, you notice that he is crying. You blink quickly to clear your own vision, but the tears don’t dampen your smile or Deacon’s. When you reach the altar, you lower gently toward Lila. Matthew and Samuel come to your side as well, just as you practiced.

“Thank you for letting me be part of your life,” you tell them. “I love you, Lila, Samuel, and Matthew.”

They hug you tightly, and Deacon wipes his eyes as you all return to your places. He takes your hands as the officiant welcomes everyone in attendance. You read your vows first, and Deacon cries again. When he begins his vows, however, you are very glad you double-checked that your makeup wouldn’t be ruined.

“… and you’re the most incredible princess I’ve ever had the joy of meeting,” Deacon says. The people around you chuckle, and you smile as you squeeze his hand. “Being loved by you is more special than any title I could have or other life I could live. I promise to treat you like the princess you are and love you more with each breath.”

You chuckle wetly, and Lila taps your side. She passes you a tissue, which makes everyone laugh, and you thank her before you use it to dry your cheeks.

“With those vows – and tears – you will now exchange rings.”

You slide Deacon’s simple band onto his finger, then offer your hand for your matching ring. The moment you are finished, the officiant pronounces you and Deacon man and wife, then steps aside for your first kiss. Just as when you walked down the aisle, everything fades away as you kiss Deacon, your husband, for the first time.

When you step back, your friends and family are cheering, and you pull Lila into a tight hug.

“Thanks for being a princess with me,” you say.

“We’re always princesses!” she replies with a giggle.

“Kay princesses,” Deacon agrees, wrapping his arms around both of you.

[landwriter]

sure sure i could fall asleep OR i could lie awake in bed tortured by the concept of hapax legomenon in the written record of a non-modern language as either a historic testament to the unexpressible demanding invention or as a lonely monument to a once-spoken word that we otherwise would not have even known once existed at all

[ramshackledtrickster]

Wow another adult animated show headed by people who don’t know jack shit about the medium and then calls animation inferior and throws their artists under the bus and calls the audience stupid for watching animated media and thinking the only thing worthwhile about adult animation is making it gross and shocking and going “this isn’t like your Saturday morning cartoons haha you fucking idiot” while actually good animated shows with some level of maturity and respect for their audience gets axed left and right

Disappointed but not surprised in the slightest

[poppyseed799]

btw I don’t know if this is a thing anyone is thinking about but I’m not gonna stop drawing Jimmy as a canary. It’s a lovely bird. It’s still something that’s been really important to his series. There’s no reason to drop the canary headcanon just cuz Lizzie fell into the void.

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Adventures in writing my English SAC, also known as 550 words of Theon being an angsty bitch,,

[crowley1990]

Five years of physics at university level and I still don’t understand electricity, electromagnetism and analog or digital sound recording or amplification

[afieldinengland]

i’ve told this story but when i was in year four the best teacher i’ve ever had got frustrated by the fact that we weren’t having science lessons— we were a tiny rural catholic primary school, and the woman who taught science came in from offsite up until i guess she couldn’t be bothered anymore. and so my teacher sought to compensate through what i imagine were varied means, but what i remember is the two consecutive days where he passed the butcher on the way into work and brought us a) a pig bone and then b) a cow heart, which he hacked open with one of the woodwork saws we never used and encouraged us all to touch marrow and flesh respectively