#what you mean in most cases is “this characters comes across as” or “this character can be interpreted as”

[nostalgia-tblr]

Fandom's weaponising of "-coded" to mean "my interpretation (headcanon) is factual and correct and anyone who disagrees with it is [something]ist" is deeply annoying and also... yeah it probably is a bit problematic that we've so muddied the waters on what is and isn't intentional in media works and on whether an interpretation is automatically correct because it appears to tick whatever boxes are currently popular.

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they are in a vampire au ❀ ˎˊ- characters: blade, dan heng, dan feng, march 7th, himeko, jingliu, jing yuan, kafka, luocha, sampo, caelus, stelle, yaoshi ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of mentions of blood and wounds, the typical vampire stuff, talks about scents, usage of the word "feeding", intended lowercase, mentions of alcohol in kafka's part, caelus/stelle may be ooc :| ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: NEVER REALLY ANNOUNCED IT BUT YAHOO HERE U GO !!! THE WINNER OF THE POLL WAS VAMPIRES, SO LETS GO ITS BITING TIME HEHE <3 different format bc damn thats a lot of characters i dont have banners for... also first time writing them women so scratches head sorry if it's ooc teehee i tried

vampire!blade, whose bloodlust runs deeper than most. his desires drive him to the brink of insanity at the slightest whiff of blood, the former human despising the animalistic tendencies that now governed his existence. with his enemies, he is content to lick their blood from his face, finding no remorse in the blood of the dead. but when he dares to drink from you, he is gentle - cautious. always his eyes are watching your own, especially before he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. for blade is prone to losing himself in the taste of you, and he fears he may go too far.

vampire!dan heng, who despises his species more than any hunter out there. he longs for the normality and companionship of humanity, and often hides his vampiric traits in public as to masquerade as a human. the only time he'll satiate his desire for blood is when he's on death's door; and even then he'll only settle for blood bags at the dead of night, away from any of the eyes of his fellow trailblazers. when the time comes and you offer your blood to him, dan heng is reluctant, hesitant. never in his life has he fed on another, and you can feel his inexperience in how he cautiously sinks his fangs into your skin - opting to kiss your wrist rather than your neck, just in case he lost control.

vampire!dan feng, who will outright refuse blood that he deems to be unsatisfactory to his palate. even if his dietary needs are considered monstrous by other species, that doesn't mean that he himself needs to be barbaric. dan feng treats blood as he would wine - like a delicacy, only to be partaken on occasion. but all of that is thrown out the window once he tastes you for the first time. when dan feng drinks your blood, he does it with the tenderness of a lover. always, he keeps you against a comfortable surface such as a bed or a sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, taking his time as he savors you like a fine dish.

vampire!march 7th, who never really questioned why she needed to drink blood to survive, and always deemed it as normal. although, she doesn't really consider it cute, claiming that it "ruins her cute-girl aesthetic". as such, she won't talk about it unless you start the conversation first, preferring to disguise her blood intake in the juice boxes she keeps around. even when she does drink from you, it's in small sips, a mere nip before she's off to doing something more fun. don't take it personally, march just isn't fond of drinking from another person. she appreciates you offering, though!

vampire!himeko, whose taste is questionable, even for a vampire. for a second, you thought that her horrendous taste in coffee came from her background, but no, it's just himeko being himeko. unlike her other companions, himeko isn't ashamed of her needs. if she needs blood, she beckons you from across the parlor car, taking your arm in her hand as she gently bites your wrist. there's something playful in the way she drinks - she's gentle, yet doesn't treat you as though you're made of glass, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she licks the wound on your wrist.

vampire!jingliu, who makes sure you understand just what you're getting into when you offer your blood. it's hard enough to keep both her mara and her bloodlust at bay around you, and even harder to control herself when you're so willing to help her. time and time again she warns you, saying that she may not be able to control herself once she gets a taste. but if you're strong and brave enough to feed her despite the dangers, then brace yourself, for jingliu won't stop until she's fully satiated.

vampire!jing yuan, who loves to nip at your fingers playfully, flashing his fangs whenever he can. honestly, jing yuan's the type of person to forget he's a vampire until the time comes and he needs to feed - and even then, it's more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. but that won't stop him from messing with you, after all, he loves the disgruntled face you make whenever he pretends to snap at you. however, when jing yuan does drink from you, he prefers to take it from the back, hugging you from behind as he languidly drinks from your shoulder - making sure the process is as painless as possible.

vampire!kafka, who teases you when you first find out of her species. are you afraid of her now? how cute, but really, there's no need to be afraid. she wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. kafka can't help but laugh as you playfully hit her for her words. can you blame her, though, when your reactions are just that endearing? kafka isn't one to take blood directly from the source, instead, she prefers to drink it in a wine glass, mixed with some sort of alcohol to really amp up the effects. having both wine and blood in one drink can be quite intoxicating to a vampire, but kafka wouldn't be kafka if she were afraid of the after effects.

vampire!luocha, who becomes addicted to your blood the second he tastes it. over his lifetime, luocha has tasted the blood of many, each with their own flavors - ranging from savory to sweet to downright disgusting. but with you, the drinking of blood is less so a matter of feeding, but rather an intimate act between lovers. he is tender as his lips latch onto your neck, his arms wrapped around you and hands massaging you to ease you through the process. and through it all, his eyes forever hold your gaze as he tastes heaven once again.

vampire!caelus, whose inexperience often makes him dangerous. caelus doesn't know how to deal with his urges, nor does he understand why a hunger builds up within him whenever he sees an exposed patch of your skin. he's a sweet guy, no doubt about it, it's just that he doesn't know how to stop. it's up to you to guide him and tell him when to stop, for caelus is young, and doesn't understand the durability of the human body compared to a vampire. but he's willing to learn, even if it means driving off his own needs in favor of yours. the last thing he wants to do is to hurt you, after all.

vampire!stelle, who nuzzles up to you whenever she feels the slightest thirst for blood. like caelus, stelle has no idea what she's feeling nor how to deal with it. when she starts getting hungry, she becomes clingy - she starts hanging around you more, often staring at you and leaving you to wonder just what it is she wants. it's only when she starts tugging at your sleeve that you realize that she's hungry. when stelle drinks, it's... well, it's not as unhinged as caelus, but she still lacks the control as he does, and you have to tap her head to snap her out of it. but when she's done drinking, you can't help but coo at her adorable face, like a kitten full of soup.

vampire!yaoshi, who prefers to give their blood rather than drink it. they would hate to put anyone in danger, after all. but alas, their instincts won't disappear, even after their ascension to aeonhood. ironic, isn't it? the giver and sustainer of eternal life is also the same one who drains that life. when they feed from you, they prefer to have you in their arms as they do, your back pressed against their chest as they drink. they whisper sweet nothings each time they rise from your skin, their tongue licking at your wound to soothe you. but it never hurts when it's with yaoshi - perhaps it's the dew from yaoshi's trees that numbs you, or the poison in their tail. if anything, you feel as though you are in a hazy dream, not yet asleep, yet not quite awake either.

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [IF I DIE, YOU DIE AFTER ME] ¡! ❞

warnings: Angst, mentions of death and suicide

summary: All you want is for him to continue if the worst case will ever happen. Unfortunately he understood you wrong...or maybe right?

characters: Aether, Albedo, Al-haitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Capitano, Childe and Chongyun × Creator!Reader

word count: 1,805

parts: 1.

Aether

Aether is stunned by your words for a moment; they linger in the air like lingering notes from a lyre, their impact resonating far more deeply in his heart than they did in his hearing. "What... What do you mean?" he replies in a hoarse whisper; his brows knit together, and a flicker of panic flickers across his expression.

"When i die, you better die after me because...I cannot bare to see you go. You should live a good life long after I'm gone and find happiness." you tell him seriously. No way ever, you would be able to live after knowing he ever parished. Aether stares at you with bright, wet eyes as his mind attempts to grapple with your words. His lips part softly as he takes a deep inhale; his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and he feels dizzy at the very thought of it. "But... But your Grace?" he protests weakly, as if he just can't accept it.

"You can't be gone. I can't live without you." A long moment of silence stretches between you and the Traveler. Aether stares down, his brows furrowed. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to entertain the idea, but he finally whispers the words.

"But your Grace... If you're gone, I don't want to live. I wouldn't know what to live for."

"And I wouldn't know what to die for."

Albedo

"That I can't do." he stands his ground, he makes his point clear. He'd always promised that he would be by your side. If you go, so must he. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but he'd rather perish by your side than to witness your death. He'd spent his life wishing to die by your side. The thought of doing so without you would make his heart crumble like the foundations of a ruined nation.

"Albedo wha-" but he interrupted, with the same confidence as before, "If you go, so must I. We're equal, remember? If you die, so will I. Together we will say our last farewells to one another."

"I would die for you, my grace."

Albedo seems adamant about that statement, but the way he delivers it seems to say more. It sounds less of a duty to be fulfilled, but more a blessing to be granted.

It's enough to make him stop and stare. He wants you to live, in truth, above all else. His thoughts of your safety are always paramount; more than his own. If you went down, he would follow, but the way he speaks, the conviction in which he's willing to go. It almost seems as though he'd welcome death himself.

"I would rather die with you, than live without you, my grace."

"Agreed."

Al-haitham

"Of course." He says it instantly without thought. Your word is law. He obeys in the most absolute way possible.

The prospect of losing you shatters his heart into a thousand pieces. He can't even bring himself to think about it, so he focuses intently on your slightest movement. "I could never dream of existing without you by my side," he continues, his voice growing unsteady. His mind is a whirlpool of emotions, thoughts, and memories. Unusual from how you know him. "Al-Haitham..."

The thought of being without you...He just can't.

"I would die for you." A small, hesitant pause. He feels his throat tighten, his breath catching in his throat. "I would...do anything to be with you, join you."

Your heart tightens, he can't mean what he says? He can't mean it, he has so much to lose, and its not you. His job, what he worked for to achieve. All you wanted was for him to continue this. "I would throw away everything for you," he whispers, as if he heard you. The words sound hoarse coming out of his dry lips. His throat feels tight, his chest feels heavy, his head feels hollow.

"Anything I've ever cared about, everything I've ever loved... All of it means nothing compared to being at your side. If you die first, I will die twice."

Ayato

His stomach tightens at the thought. His heart feels like it is about to explode as he considers that reality.

"I would follow you there," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper. "With every part of me, I would follow you."

"No. You know what I meant by my words." He understands your meaning, but he cannot bring himself to say the words outloud.

"I would not be able to bear life without you," he says quietly, his eyes avoiding your gaze. The words escape with an earnestness that he did not intend, and immediately he is struck by the depth of his love for you and his utter devotion to you.

Your words have shaken him. "I love you," he says softly. His voice is little more than a whisper. It feels natural to say. The words slip out from his mouth so effortlessly that they escape him before he can even think to stifle them.

He doesn't question it. He'd say it 100 times over if you needed to hear it.

"My love, I'm sorry. I wish I was what you wanted. I wish I had the bravery to live without you, but I'm a coward. But for now, we shall live till we both die."

Baizhu

"I would never let something so horrific befall you. If anything were to happen to you, I would perish before you. And as you know, I will do everything to prevent death, especially yours."

Baizhu leans forward to gently lay his forhead against yours, a gesture, one filled with warmth.

"You will not die. You will not." Baizhu emphasizes his words, the determination in his eyes unshakeable. "For so long as you remain standing, so will I. Your fate is my fate - there is no other reality than the one in which you live."

"I-I don't want you to-" you hurriedly let out, its almost breaking your heart. "But I would... My desire is to shield you from harm. Any threat comes your way, I would-" Baizhu pauses, seeming to ponder whether to finish his prior sentence. Then, he swallows his pride before speaking again.

"My priority... It is to keep you alive. To make sure you are safe..."

Bennett

Bennett's eyes widen, as if he were shocked by your words. "Y-you're not going to die, my grace," he says softly, but there is something like panic in his voice. "Y-you won't... you can't die, ever..."

The Adventurer reaches out and lightly touches your hand with his fingertips. "Please, do not speak of such things..." Bennett looks up at you, his eyes wide and pleading. "You would... you would leave me alone? What would I ever do without you? Go on adventures alone? Who would I tell all my stories? Who would listen? You're my...— I... I."

And then he looks down, unable to look at you. "If you left, I would die; my purpose is to love. So, please, you..."

He looks up at you in desperation again. "If you leave so soon, I won't ever be ready to finish loving you..."

A breeze gently flows through your hair as Bennett reaches out and strokes your hair. The way his fingers caress your hair, so gently and with such tenderness, makes you wonder if he is afraid of breaking you. "You are my everything. So I will give my all to prevent your death, even if it causes my own."

Capitano

“As you wish, your grace” The words leave Capitano’s mouth almost involuntarily. He stares at you, his eyes glazed over as the thought of never seeing you again flashes through his mind.

He doesn’t care what he must do. Even if the universe is set against him. Even if he must face the Abyss Order or the Tsarita herself alone. You alone are worth his devotion and his existence. The thought is a bittersweet one. He will devote himself to you so wholly that when you pass, he will not live on as he normally would but will rather perish at your side.

He is not a man to love lightly, nor is he a man who will forget your kindness with time.

Capitano will live for you, devote himself to you, and even perish with you without a second thought. You are his entire universe, the center of his world. Nothing exists for him but you. All the other worlds that are his duty no longer matter in comparison.

His will is set on two things, only.

To love you. To die with you.

Childe

Childe's breathing quickens at the idea of your death. He cannot allow it. "No," he breathes. He grasps your hands tight, desperation in every motion.

"You can't die. You are immortal. Eternal. Unbreakable." The words tumble out of his mouth, sounding almost like a prayer with the desperation and pleading in his voice. "Of course I can die silly...so when i do...please live on without me." "No." Childe stares at you, his face hard as a rock.

"I can't."

Childe closes his eyes and grips your hands tighter. He leans forward until his chin presses into your knuckles and his face is inches from yours.

"Don't ask me to do that. I won't let you die."

Childe repeats the words, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence, raw and trembling.  "I can't let you die." He pulls you close, so close that your lips are almost touching, but not quite.

"I'm nothing without you." His voice is a whisper. "My existence depends on you.

"I can't live without you."

Chongyun - aged up

He freezes at the sound of these words, his body trembling uncontrollably. His breathing becomes shallower and shallower, his heart pounding faster and faster, all the color draining from his face. "You... you wouldn't... you couldn't.." he says in a hoarse voice, his head spinning from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dread. He is too close to the thought of losing you, and he fears that it could destroy him. "Please," Chongyun whispers, his eyes imploring you with such a profound desperation, a look that could tear your heart out.

"I cannot lose you. I cannot live a life without you." He reaches for your hands, grasping them tightly in his own. "I would not survive your departure. The very thought leaves me in a living nightmare."

Chongyun is crying. "Please do not make me go on without you. Please do not." He is shaking. Your words have stirred up a whirlwind of emotion. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading, his heart breaking at the thought of a life without you.

"I would follow you until the end, your Grace. Even if it means for my own journey to end."

TAGLIST: @hehothrowawayfae @lucienbarkbark

[squirmhoney]

WITH TIME | NAOYA ZEN'IN

Please read all warnings carefully, my fics cover dark topic matters, that may be upsetting to certain readers. Read at your own discretion. Warnings: Dark. Arranged/Forced marriage. Non con. Dub con. Abusive relationship. Forced pregnancy Spanking. Loss of virginity. Violence against reader. Misogynistic views. Degrading views. Submissive reader. 18+ A/N: Part 4!! Please I've added a few more tags this one so please read them. My girl is going through it. one more part to go. there is a mention of a character from part 2, just in case you don't know who it is.

AS ALWAYS MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! MASTER LIST HERE

-

This wasn’t love. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that this wasn’t some twisted version of hell that Naoya kept you in. 

He drilled it into your brain, not through words, but through actions. Ever since he had brutally taken you in his bed two months ago, he was no longer prepared to show any restraint towards you.

What he wanted, he got. You were a means to an end to him in all respects and he made it clear as he abused your body over and over again. He would wait till you were a whimpering mess, not showing any affection towards you, until he knew you were on the brink of becoming numb, then he’d show a slither of kindness. 

You knew the game he was playing but yet everytime you caved in and you were only starting to realise why. 

It was when you found yourself swallowing down sobs, burying your face into the sheets next to him as you tried to calm yourself down, that you finally caught on. 

Naoya’s fingers were slow as they started to graze your back, running against the soft skin as he tried to hush you. He took his time with it, watching how you reacted to each of subtle touches until he managed to circle his arm around your waist, yank your body back into his with your back pressed against his chest. Then he’d pepper kisses along the side of your face, trying to calm you down in some way.

After days of no affection, him barely talking to you and degrading your self worth to nothing, he would give you the finest speck of kindness. He knew you’d be desperate for it at that point, craving anything from him to make yourself feel somewhat sane. So of course you caved, relaxing into his touch and blabbering apologies to him. 

But today you didn’t even know whether to speak, unsure if an apology was the right thing to say. Instead you just rolled over and into him, pressing your face against his chest for the smallest bit of comfort. 

“You’re okay,” Naoya hushed, fingers threading through your hair as he gently massaged your scalp. “Hmmm.” 

The feel of him pressed against you had your stomach churning again, vomit rising up your throat. You couldn’t help it as you pushed yourself off the bed, sprinting for the toilet just to make it in time. 

It's recently turned into a regular occurrence for you to vomit after sex. It was as if your body was rejecting him, or it was slowly breaking down until it no longer functioned anymore. 

You didn’t want to be sick, honestly. 

You were terrified of how it may be offending Naoya to see you in such a state. Most of the time he just seemed disgusted by it, rolling his eyes every time he saw you retreat into the bathroom. 

However, today was different as he crouched beside you, hand rubbing up and down your spine. 

“I’ve arranged an appointment for the doctor to come see you,” Naoya said, pulling the strands of hair out of your face. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get someone to bring you some clothes to wear?”

You nodded, croaking out a small, “Thank you.” 

“Got to take care of my wife,” he insisted.

You turned to him then, trying to muster a smile but it was hard to force it as you looked up at him. 

A lazy smirk drew across his face like he knew something you didn’t. 

“I’ll wait for you downstairs.” 

All you could do was muster a nod in response. 

/

You were trembling, your hands barely holding up as it covered your tear stained face. 

The mixture of emotions you felt, were overwhelming and you struggled as you fought with yourself to keep your cries at bay. 

But as your hand hovered over your bloated stomach, unable to even graze over the skin, you sucked in a whimper again. 

You didn’t want to cry anymore. You were bored sick of crying all the time. 

There was no other reaction you could muster. 

Even as rage filled you at the thought of Naoya Zenin’s demon child growing in your stomach, you were too scared to act out on it. 

“Wife.” 

Too busy fighting with yourself to control your emotions, you hadn’t even realised Naoya creeping up behind you. Not till his breath was fanning against your ear and his hands were forcing you to turn around to face him. 

“Hiding from me?” Naoya questioned, pressing a finger under your chin to direct your attention to him. 

 “No,” you shook your head, biting on your lip as you sniffed. “It’s just a lot.” 

Naoya nodded, tension releasing from his body as he cupped your face. 

You were taken back at his thumbs wiping at your tears but didn’t fight against it. 

“It’s okay,” Naoya hummed, voice soft and a complete contradiction to his character over the last few weeks. “I get it, I do.” 

You can’t help but gaze up at him through your wet lashes, lips quivering as you allow him to comfort you. 

“I’ve been hard on you.” You swallowed at this, not sure what he was getting at. “But you’re my wife and now that you’re carrying my child-” His hand rests over your stomach “-I will do right by you.” 

His words were meant to be reassuring but as his lips pressed against your forehead, you felt anything but reassured. 

/

As time drew on, your stomach finally started to show what you were desperate to deny. 

What had taken you by surprise the most had been your reaction to it. The way you looked back at yourself in the mirror, hand running over the swelling as you stared in awe. 

Naoya appeared behind you, pressing his chest against your back, hand coming to rest on top of yours. His eyes trailed your skin, humming to himself as he grinned at the sight of you. Until his eyes caught the faded bruise wrapped around your wrist, eyes softening as his finger touched it. 

“I need to be more careful,” he whispered, as if he was speaking to himself. 

But then his gaze caught yours, eyes darkening as his lips reached down to graze yours.

“My fragile woman,” he mumbled into your lips, hands sliding down over the curves of your body. “Mine, mine, mine…” He continuously repeated, till he was gently pushing you over the sink, dick hard and wanting as it pressed into the crack of your ass cheek. 

And when he sunk into you for the first time that day, something entirely new possessed you, repeating his words back to him as you moaned into his lips, “Yours. Only yours.” 

/

You had never imagined life with Naoya to be like this. Each month of pregnant life things seemed to be getting easier and seven months in you felt like you could find some semblance of happiness in this. 

Naoya was gentle with you, treating you like a fragile vase that was one wrong move away from breaking and you liked it. 

You liked how he doted on you in the morning, pressing soft kisses over your skin to wake you before work. You liked how he called during his work day, just ready to listen to your voice as you told him the most mundane things of your day. You liked the way he pressed you into the mattress, fingers digging into your thighs as he buried himself inside of you. 

He fucked you like he wanted to impregnante you all over again. As if there wasn’t full certainty that his seed had taken, even though you were rounder than the moon underneath him. 

But you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It left you with a feeling that he genuinely cared about you, that you were more than just some mare for him to breed. As if you were his wife, possibly close to his equal. 

As his fingers danced across your collarbone, fiddling with the dainty necklace he had presented you an hour ago, you felt that feeling heating your skin all over again. 

“You look beautiful,” he told you, kissing the subtle skin under your ear. “You ready?” 

“Yes,” you gleamed up at him, pressing your lips to his quickly, before wiping any residue of your gloss away. 

“I can’t wait for everyone to properly see you.” 

His fingers interlocked with yours, guiding you to all the people that had been gathered to celebrate your pregnancy. 

Naoya only took his hand from yours to place it on the curve of your back, rubbing soothing circles as many members of the clan greeted you. Most of the men and women were ecstatic to see you both, cooing at the sight of your stomach and asking a million questions. 

You separated from each other an hour or two in, your mother taking you into a corner with a few other women as they all pressed their hand against your stomach. 

“You have felt some movement?” your mother questioned, eyebrows furrowed at you. 

“Yes.” you nodded with a half-hearted smile, starting to grow tired of the attention. “I think he’s just asleep.” 

“You’d think with all these people around he wouldn’t be able to sleep,” another voice chimed in. 

You didn’t recognise the voice at first, not bothering to look either as you replied, “He is normally awake when his father is around, if I’m being honest.” You turned your head, turning to a familiar face you hadn’t seen in over a year. 

Familiar blue eyes stared back into yours, lips curving up into a smile as she waved. 

“Hana,” you gasped. 

“Congratulations.” She raised her glass at you, lips forming into a tight line after taking a sip. 

“Could I have a moment alone?” You turned to your mother, wide eyes pleading with her. 

With only a little bit of hesitation she stood up, dragging the other women with her until they were a bit of a distance away. 

“How have you been?” You went back to Hana, shifting in your seat to make room for her. 

“I think I should be asking you that.” She took the seat beside you, both of you looking at the floor in front of you. “Don’t you think?” 

“I’m sure a lot has happened to the both of us since we last saw each other,” you told her, trying to open up the conversation to a topic other than you. 

“I find it very strange seeing you like this.” There was a sadness in her voice as if she was disappointed. 

“I never imagined I’d be like this either. It’s all new to me.” 

“I imagine it’s quite odd.” 

“In a way, unfamiliar but also… it feels right. Like it’s meant to be and everything seems to be falling into place so naturally.” 

She laughed humorlessly at this. 

“What?” Your eyes glanced over at her. 

“It feels right with him,” she whispered this, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear her. 

You noticed your husband sitting to the other side of the garden, most of the clans attention on him as they chatted amongst them. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he looked up with a wide smile and a nod. 

One that had the tips of your ears burning pink, teeth biting on your lip as you answered your old friend, “Yes, it does.” 

“You’re joking right.” 

Your gaze turned back to her at this, seeing the look of disgust clearly on her face. 

“Him?” 

“It’s not been easy,” you were truthful, placing a hand against your stomach. “It was hard-” 

“You hated him,” she hissed. 

“That is in the past. We were children then.” 

“Things don’t change that quickly.” 

“It hasn’t been quick, you think I’ve always been this happy.” 

“I’m just trying to understand.” Her hand reached out for yours, holding it. “Why him?” 

Not all of us have a choice, you wanted to scream at her. 

But you knew those words would reach back to Naoya and you couldn’t risk your emotions getting the best of you now. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, tearing your hand away from hers. “But I am allowed to want this for myself. I’m allowed to be happy in this.” 

“I didn’t mean-” 

“Everything okay?” Your husband’s voice spoke, a scowl on his face as he looked down at the woman next to you. 

“Can you help me to the bathroom?” You asked, holding out your hand for him to take. 

“Of course.” His hand reached behind you, helping you up as he pulled you into him. 

You took one last glance behind you, Hana not even looking your way as she kicked the grass underneath her. 

“If you want me to get rid of her, all you have to do is say,” Naoya told you. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” you said, a hint of a giggle in your tone. “But thank you.” 

/

Naoya found you in the kitchen hours later, dressed in a robe that barely covered you. 

You had long taken off the outfit and makeup from earlier, slipping into comfort as you let your hair messily hang down your back. You were brewing some tea for the both of you, in your own world when your husband crept up behind you. 

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a large sniff as you tried to recover from your thumping heart from him startling you. 

“What are you doing down here?” He asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Making us some tea before bed,” you told him, eyes resting as you sunk into his warm touch. 

“We have staff for a reason.” 

“I just like to do things for you.” You pouted softly, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“You’ve done plenty for me.” Hand coming to rest upon your stomach as his fingers slipped easily under the nightgown. “Wife.” 

That simple word sent your skin ablaze, goosebumps forming in the wake of his subtle touch. “Husband.” 

He hummed, hands finding your full breasts as he gave them a tight squeeze. One that had you sighing in some sort of release as your nipples leaked. 

“That feels good.” You nibbled on your bottom lip in anticipation, waiting for his next move. 

“I can make you feel even better,” he replied, ever so confident as he unwrapped the silk robe from your frame. 

It fell to the floor in a heap, leaving you bare before him, trapped in between his body and the kitchen cabinets. 

“Turn around.” 

You obeyed, watching as his gaze  fell onto you, running over every inch of skin. 

“Beautiful.” 

He matched his words with a kiss, one placed across your chest. That turned into another placed directly on your breast, hands following as they felt up the skin of your sides. His lips slid down, kisses turning wet as he licked and nipped every inch of your skin till he fell to his knees in front of you. 

“Naoya,” you questioned him, eyes fluttering as you looked down at him. “What are you-” 

Your words caught in your throat, feeling his breath against your core as he gently pried your thighs open. You tried to move with him, letting him open your legs but it was hard not wanting to push all your weight on him. 

He looked up at you, eyebrows raised as if questioning why you were being so difficult. 

“Relax,” he told you, wrapping your thigh around his shoulder. “I got you.” 

You let out a strangled breath, resting into him and letting his hands catch you. 

“There you go,” Naoyo mused, finally being face to face with your sopping cunt. 

He’s never been down there before, not like this. The only time he ever was staring at your cunt was when his fingers were playing with your clit or his dick was getting lost in your walls. Never had he been so close with his actual face and you never believed he would be. 

Disbelief filled you when his lips finally kissed you, being met with instant wetness coating his lips. 

He retreated for a second, licking the fluids on his lips as he wrinkled his nose. 

You didn’t see much of a reaction from that but he soon returned, mouth opening as it met your wetness this time. 

He took his time, using his tongue to explore the different parts in between your folds, swallowing the fluids of your cunt every now and then. He noticed the way your thighs would tighten every time his tongue grazed over your clit and eventually he found his attention drawn to it. 

You mewled when his tongue flicked at your clit, hand grabbing the countertop behind you for support. 

He chuckled at this, the vibrations of it going right through you as your walls clenched around nothing. 

You could feel his sinister smile grace his lips as you grabbed his locks, stomach tightening in knots at the foreign feeling of him sucking at your clit. 

Naoya wasn’t a man that would eat a woman out. The man had never even so much as tasted you down there and you knew for a fact he wouldn’t have done this with someone before you, he would have been disgusted at the mere thought. 

But Naoya was eating you out like a crazed man in dire need of every drip of juice your cunt would offer him. He made this clear in the way his lips detached from your clit only for his tongue to sink down, delving into your walls. 

With one hand digging into the flesh of your ass cheek, Naoya used his other hand to dip in between your thighs, thumb finding your swollen clit. 

As soon as his thumb began to rub your clit, you were dripping into his mouth, growing wetter by the second as he just drank it all in. Your eyes rolled back as 

“Have you always tasted this good?” He groaned into you, lapping up your sweet essence. “Fuck, I need to this more often.” 

Your eyes rolled back at that, fingers tightening on his locks as you felt yourself suddenly let go. 

He doesn't stop. Not even when your thighs practically trap his head between them. Not even when you drop every bit of your weight on him, falling slack into his grip. 

It’s only when you relax, coming back from your orgasm, that you're desperate to check he’s okay. 

But he’s fine- more than fine as he detaches himself from your cunt, lips covered in your honeyed slick. His chest is heaving, completely breathless like you as he stands up, towering over you. 

“You’ve made such a mess,” he tutted, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, still coming down from your high as you rubbed your hand to his chest. 

“How about you come make a bigger mess of me upstairs?” He hummed, already whisking you towards the direction of your bedroom.

Taglist: @xxsweetnlowxx @slashmedaddy @yktijdtmyp @4morrant @vcvoxu @paleachcobbler @checkmate-stuff (let me know if you wanted to be added)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.

The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 

The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:

“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”

There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.

Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?

The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.

You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.

And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.

At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.

Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.

The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.

Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.

An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.

When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.

Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.

[galedekarios]

this is a personal vent post so please let me just get it all out without trying to come at me lol:

so many ppl saying they respect larian's decision to peace out and not deal with hasbro/wotc, but i have to be honest, i don't respect them at all.

they are leaving a game behind that is unfinished and a narrative mess.

they leave a game behind where everyone paid the same amount of money for it, yet depending on which character you prefer, you get less content.

the disparity between everyone else and their writer's pet ast*rion is insane. he has a half to a third more content depending on which character you compare him to.

they leave behind a sparse act 2, which is already so barren compared to act 1 and all it had to offer. act 3 is a narrative mess and lacks structure.

they leave a game behind where they made promises a handful of weeks before release where they ought to have known that they, in fact, will not be delivering said promises: access to the upper city, consequences for playing certain races across the acts (playing a drow is going to be different in act 1 and gives you advantages vs act 3 where it would give you understandable disadvantages), etc etc etc.

they leave behind a game where content was cut from the companions to make it seem like the origins have something to offer when that system is barely able to compare what origin playthroughs offered in dos2 and it hurts the game and the experience (like tara being cut for companion gale).

they leave behind a game where they promised to much variety and proclaimed in panels from hell how they struggled to show the width and depth of the game, but really? it's about as deep as a puddle. a lot of the choices do not matter. kill ethel? nah, she's alive and well in the city. no sister hags to be angry here. give karlach no infernal iron and never talk to her at all? doesn't matter, she'll survive until the end of act 3 and will still call you her bff. dissuade gale to use the orb? we'll make sure he'll still offer 3 more times just in case. send yenna away from camp bc you don't want her there? doesn't matter, she'll stay. and yes, i'm aware these are all small things, but they are part of a larger problem. almost nothing you do truly matters to the point of where i just skip most things in act 1 and 2 now.

they leave behind a game that they promise to still patch, but some things have been broken since early access / release to the point of where i'm like i'm sorry, but your word that you will continue to patch things means about as much to me as all the other empty promises. the dialogue about morena dekarios is still broken and it's been over half a year now. the astral sea scene has low-res body textures for months. i know from mutuals who love minthara that her romance is still broken. and i could go on and on.

and what gets me the most about this is all is that they have learned nothing at all from dos2: act 3 of that game was so bugged and all over the place that i couldn't muster up the motivation to finish it the first time i played. they neglected a character to the point of where he could have been removed from the game or made a general hireling (beast).

those issues were at least attempted to be fixed in the definitive edition.

with swen saying that there will be no new content anymore and stating that both bg3 and its characters are now property of wotc/hasbro, it seems unlikely we'll even get an attempt of a fix.

so what this boils down to to me is just another game company not delivering on their promises after overselling their product and more or less abandoning it after a year to move onto the next big thing.

i don't think i can respect that ngl.

[cy-lindric]

I wanted to vent, but also ask an honest question. Since I was a teenager, I always wanted to work on character design. And one thing that always caught my attention was how I always preferred male character designs over female ones. My first thought was that I was always more into androgynous fashion and more masculine styles. But time passed and I came to the conclusion that it wasn't just that, and it seems that male characters can always be different things: fat, thin, handsome, ugly, short, tall, young, old, etc. and female characters, for the most part, fall into two categories: cute or sexy. I wanted some tips on how I can make female characters with more interesting designs, without having to fall into those two categories. I love your work and you managed to make someone else like the three musketeers <3<3

Hello ! That's definitely a good question and something I think about a lot. The bias towards beauty is very strong in character design and it takes a conscious effort to diversify output in that regard.

That sort of advice might be a bit obvious, but one habit I picked up from the director on my first feature film gig was to actually "cast" characters. Without reference, we tend to go for the kind of symmetrical face and "average" features mostly out of stylistic habit. I like to look at character actors with distinct faces (I like this pinterest page that has a lot of faces in one place) but also just acquaintances or pictures of random crowds.

When designing a character, at first I'm always building a big reference board trying to decide what Type of Guy (gender neutral) I'm going for, trying use photos rather than other people's art, because I want to rely on automatics and graphic symbols as little as possible. Whether I'm designing a man or a woman or other, I use references of fashion styles and people across the board in terms of gender so I keep the scope open. Sometimes a character ref board for me will be a picture of one of my aunts next to a bunch of screenshots of Columbo. In my experience, a lot of the times, it's mostly about going with styles and archetypes the same way you would for a male character, and switching it up somewhere along the way by looking at real women in your life and beyond as a grounding mechanism. Sometimes that will mean changing almost nothing, because the borders between genders and how you characterize them is blurry and fluid, and sometimes it will mean using features that are uniquely tied to some sort of female experience.

I enjoy realism and I think getting more proficient at it did help me diversify my designs (I find that more difficult to do with more minimalistic styles). Still, I am mostly a fantasy artist and in my case that comes with some amount of stylization and idealization of shapes and looks. I'm far from perfect in my biases and I'm not going out of my way to draw "ugly" characters because that doesn't mean much to me ; I try to draw inspiration from the faces of every day people and I associate it with my love for fashion. It's also worth noting the work I post here for fun is a lot more hash tag aesthetic than the stuff I do professionally where diversity is much more important.

I don't know if any of that is relevant but that's definitely an interesting topic ! I'd love to know others' perspective and tips on the matter.

[chiaraanatra]

Life as We Know It | Part 3

Summary: You and Seresin unexpectedly become the caretakers of Bradley and Natasha's baby girl, Nicole. Can you two put your disdain for one another aside for Nic's sake? Based on the movie "Life as We Know It"

Warnings: mentions of parental/character death and funeral, angst, arguments, and swearing. no use of y/n. Always check chapter warnings!

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: Here is part three, another sad chapter... It's not my favorite, but I think chapter 4 will be an upswing! Thank you for all the support on this series!

《 part 1 || part 2 》 《 m.list || ao3 》

The funeral was a blur. You honestly couldn't remember much. What you did remember was the insanity of the gathering afterward. A sea of people, most of whom you had never met, let alone heard of, invaded the house. You and Seresin had spent most of the time talking up anyone and everyone who seemed like they may be a good fit to take on Nic.

When the dust finally settled and you were able to lock the door you were both exhausted. You and Seresin were seated at the dining room table, Nic was passed out in her crib and the fridge was stocked with enough casseroles to last a lifetime.

"WeII…" Seresin was the first to speak, "We could go with the cousins with nine kids. They clearly know how to keep a kiddo alive..."

"The stripper seemed nice." you half-joked.

"Yeah..." Seresin thought through his next few words carefully, "How did she know them?"

You couldn't help but laugh, "You know... she didn't say." you both erupted into laughter.

However, the laughter naturally died and he looked at you with soft eyes. "We're screwed...."

Your head collapsed onto the dining room table, voice muffled by the cold wood, "Yeah..."

You and Seresin had concluded that while you two may not be the best fit, you were better than foster care. The two of you decided to bite the bullet and gained joint IegaI and physical custody of Nicole Carole Bradshaw.

The three of you were making your way out of the courthouse and towards Seresin's truck. As you began to strap Nic into her car seat, he sank into a squat against the truck, his hands rubbing his face. "That's it? No drug tests, no questions? What if we're crazy murderers who like to eat human flesh? Eh, doesn't matter! Boom, 'Done, case closed.' You'd think they were giving those things away."

"Where is that stupid bunny that she Ioves...?" you rummaged through the car, laying across the floor of the lifted truck, feet kicking outside the door, trying to reach under the driver's seat.

Seresin shifted to look at your stocking-clad legs falling out of his truck. He shook any thoughts he may have had out of his head, "what are you doing?"

"Almost got it..."

Seresin couldn't take any more of your struggle. He grabbed your hips and lifted you out of the truck to stand on your feet. He reached under the seat with ease, grabbing the plush bunny before placing it in Nic's lap. The gesture made her smile, happy coos leaving her lips.

You huffed, blushing a little, "Thank you..."

You walked over to sit next to Nic in the back seat. There was one thing you noticed pretty quickly and that was that Nic loved car rides, meaning she would fall asleep immediately. Once her seatbelt was buckled, she was out like a light, and if you and Seresin were lucky she would remain that way for a while.

When the two of you got home you placed Nic in her crib and walked back downstairs. Seresin was on the couch elbows on his knees and his head resting his hands. He lifted his head when he noticed you coming downstairs, running his fingers through his sandy blonde locks.

You took a seat next to him. Your mouth opened like you were about to say something, but you couldn’t think of the right words. You took notice of the pull-out couch that he had spent the last few nights sleeping on. “Umm. Are you sure you don’t want to stay in their room?”

He didn’t skip a beat before giving his reply, “Positive.”

You could only nod in response. In the few days that you had been staying in their house, you both refused to step foot in their room. That was theirs and it felt wrong to step into their space. That’s how the whole house felt. You both felt that you were out of place, invaders in a house that was yours on paper but felt far from belonging to you or Seresin. Deep down, you hoped that at any moment Nat and Bradley would walk through the front door and life as you had know it would resume.

You took a deep breath, “Would you mind keeping an ear out for her...? I could really use a shower.”

His head returned to his hands as he took a breath of his own, “Yeah…”

The two of you felt like you were walking on eggshells around one another. Especially when it was the norm for small disagreements to develop into a fight. Neither one of you had any fight left in you at this point. So, you took your time standing up from the couch and making your way to the bathroom upstairs.

When the water hit, you so did everything else. You felt as though the world was falling around you. You couldn’t help but sit on the shower floor and let your tears fall.

When you walked through the door the house was silent. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but since the alternative was the rantings of a 30-something-year-old man and/or a crying toddler, you decided things could be worse.

You quickly put groceries away before making it towards the stairs and up to Nic’s room to make sure everything was okay. As you approached her bedroom you swore you heard humming. Once you were just outside the doorway you noticed it was singing.

“Heads Carolina, tails California. Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer.”

What the hell..? You thought to yourself, but you couldn’t help the little smile that graced your lips.

You walked in, leaning against the doorway watching as Seresin sat in the rocking chair, that was placed in the corner of the room, with Nic in his arms. His voice was deep and carried a gentle tone as he sang to the little girl, lulling her to sleep. You felt your heart warm at his affection towards her, “What are you singing to her?”

“Everybody loves Jo Dee Messina. Do you mind?” He looked back at the little girl and began to sing again, “Up in the mountains, down by the ocean. Where it don't matter, long as we're goin' somewhere together.” His deep voice and southern drawl were more prominent in his own exhausted state. Nic didn’t appear to mind, as the lyrics faded to a hum, she was passed out before your eyes.

You watched Seresin lay her gently in the crib. He pushed you into the hallway before closing the door almost shut. “Told you it works.” You couldn't mistake the annoyance in his voice as he brushed past you.

You rolled your eyes shanking your head, “You know… would it kill you to be a little cheerful?

He lets out a sigh, crossing his arms and looking down at you, “Yeah. It might.”

You hated when he was short with you, “Come on, Seresin…”

“No,” he interrupted. “Why should I pretend to be happy? I'm miserable. Just let me be miserable.”

“You know what? I am so sick of aII your depressing IittIe comments.”

He interrupted you once more before you could elaborate, “No, you don’t get it, I ruined my life for her.”

You scoffed, “I'm so sorry parenting isn't the fun-filled ride you thought it was gonna be.”

“Oh, shut up. You're happy because your old life sucked.”

Your mouth fell open a little before you came to your defense, “My old Iife didn't suck!”

“Yeah” he leaned closer getting in your face, “It did.”

You roll your eyes, “You know nothing about me, Seresin! My life was great, my job was great. I made my own hours; I had free time.” You liked your life. You had your routine and it worked for you. You would never admit, especially to Seresin, that sometimes the monotony got to you. 

It was now his turn to scoff, “To do what? Blog?”

“Oh my God!” You through your hands in the air, “You are beyond frustrating!”

“You have no idea what a great Iife is. I had a great life!” Seresin was pacing, “I went out all the time! GirIs would buy me drinks, they would throw themselves at me. I haven’t had a dry spell since i was 15!”

“You're disgusting!”

“Sweetheart, they say you can't have it aII, but I did, I had it aII and it was awesome! I slept with whoever I wanted whenever I wanted.”  He turned away wanting to be done with the situation but decided to turn back to face you. “You know, maybe if you got laid you’d be more tolerable. Except to have sex you gotta find somebody who can stand you first.”

“Fuck you…” Before he could speak you spat back, “Of course you think that's awesome! AII you care about is getting with any girl willing to spread her legs for you and then praying she didn’t stick around till morning. God, even Bradley was embarrassed by you but he would never say anything because he was twice the man you are.” You turned to walk away. While you didn’t in the moment, you knew you would regret the words that fell from your lips.

You watched as Seresin’s face fell before turning away from you. He grabbed his keys from the entry way table before making his way towards the garage.

You walked over to him before he made escape, placing your hand on his shoulder, “Hey, don't drive angry and do something stupid! Your kid's parents died in a car-“

He quickly moved away from your touch, turning back to you and pointing up towards Nic’s room, “She is not my kid! She's not my kid…” The second time he said those words was much quieter than the first.

You paused, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over, “Then whose kid is she...?”

Seresin only shook his head in response before walking out the door.

At the rate the two of you were going, it was only a matter of time before you tore each other to shreds, and no amount of love either of you had for Nic would be able to prevent it.

《 part 4 》

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Top Gun Taglist: @callsign-viper @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @desert-fern @pono-pura-vida @dempy @t-rexs-world @averyhotchner @drxgxnslxyer @daisydark @hookslove1592 @teacupsandtopgun

Series Taglist: @djs8891 @multiverseprincess @littlestatesman @sunshineandbradbrad @hockeybabestars @buckysteveloki-me @lovebittenandlanguishing @cassadilasworld @my-mind-isnt-intact @poppet05

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[larkingame]

play the demo | patreon | larkin is rated 18+

someone is after you.

for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago.

carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head.

so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away.

as if that wasn't enough, on your first day in town the local mine up and explodes--leaving the reclusive family that runs the town--and owns the mine--to suspect you as the main culprit.

now you're left with the responsibility of investigating the disaster to clear your name, looking into the mysterious cult just south of town, the gang of outlaws who've been wrapped up deep in a feud with larkin's patriarchal family--a group of people which you suspect to be hiding a secret most monstrous--all while dealing with the ghosts of your past, and the roots your family left behind.

larkin is a vampire western choose-your-own adventure game, with focuses on romance, religion, horror and complicated family dynamics.

play a fully customizable character [[decide upon their physical appearance, gender identity, sexuality, customize their pronouns]]

dictate a unique relationship with your mentor-turned-father-figure and his former appentice

romance any of ten characters, four male, three female, one non-binary and two gender selectable characters.

define your characters skillset and scheming tactics, select their weapons and fighting style, elect their feelings on religion, vampires and the cult that raised them.

the doctor [male] cyrus sokolov - the quasi-mayor of larkin, cyrus sokolov also operates as the town's doctor and mortician. he's immeadiately suspicious of you, the new preacher and the reputation you comes with. even though he doesn't like it, he needs your help.

the princess [female] celina sokolova - despite the misconceptions among the townsfolk, the reclusive third sibling of the sokolov family, celina, is actually the family’s eldest. hardly leaving the sokolov mansion, it’s rumored around town that she’s been struck with some sort of sun-related illness, others seem to hold the opinion that miss sokolova simply sees herself as too good to linger amongst the common folk. whatever the case may truly be doesn’t much matter to the people of larkin, after all, it's much more fun to gossip. she's very suddenly developed a fascination with the preacher, a hunger almost. but will she eat you whole?

the mortician's assistant [male] dominic sokolov - the youngest scion of the sokolov family, dominic works as assistant mortician in larkin, though he’s much more interested in larkin’s living townsfolk then the dead ones he’s been charged with taking care of. with seemingly endless information on everyone and everything that goes on in larkin, mister sokolov might not be the worst friend to have.

the lawyer [male] jacob nash -  larkin’s only practicing attorney and resident do-gooder. after passing the bar exam, nash headed out west in the hopes of making a real difference for the people there, only to spend most of his days settling petty disputes and notarizing documents. despite his disappointment, however, nash has managed to keep a level head and his fondness for the people of larkin, even though he’s not so sure the sokolovs have the townsfolk’s best interest in mind.

the bartender [female] rose holloway - larkin’s most recent transplant, that was, until the preacher showed up. former city-girl, rose has adapted to both life out west and on her own, the only way she knows how--by pushing through it. the owner and bartender of larkin’s only saloon, the emerald, rose is a popular figure around larkin whether she likes it or not, but whether that has more to do with her occupation or the fact she also happens to be larkin’s youngest widow is still a topic up for debate.

the lieutenant [male/female/non-binary] hollis - an enigmatic figure around larkin, hollis serves as a lieutenant for the mysterious rateliff fellowship. one of the cult’s few members to make the long trek from their encampment in the desert to town more than once. talked to by few, hated by most, hollis bears the reputation of the people they represent to the town of larkin--one, that isn’t particularly favorable.

the vampire hunter [male/female/non-binary] ace zhang - vampire-hunting-mercenary extraordinaire, the last the preacher knew of ace, they were the young hot-shot on san francisco’s hunting scene. once upon a time ace was a prominent figure in the preacher’s life, the first real acquaintance they managed to make on their own, someone outside of wyatt’s sphere. growing up a member of the guild, their life is one that’s mirrored the preacher’s. maybe that’s why the two seemed to be linked so closely during the preacher’s time in california, whether that was as friends, rivals or something more, their presence is one that remains prominent in the preacher's mind.

the outlaw [male] cassidy alan ward - cowboy, outlaw, bandit, cassidy goes by many names and titles, but the one he prides himself on most is leader. protector of his people, the ward gang hides out somewhere in the hills outside larkin, looming over the townsfolk as an ever-present threat, cassidy finds the sokolovs personally responsible for the death of his sister, caroline, and he is out for blood.

the gunslinger [female] ethel jackson - cassidy's right hand, ethel is a gunslinger through and through. fancying herself the robinhood type, she's got a personal hatred for the family that looms over larkin.  with the fastest gun in all of nevada, maybe even all of the west--ethel could prove to be a valuable friend--or a deadly adversary.

the stranger [non-binary] reyes - the newest addition to ward's gang, not much is known about them or their past--what everyone is well aware of, however, is the fact that nobody whose ever decided to cross reyes has ever come out of it alive.

the vampire [male/female/non-binary] montero moreau - you've hunted down their coven, debilitating any hopes for growth they had in terms of advancing in the cut-throat world of Vampires. you've made montero look like a fool, and they hate looking like a fool. They're determined to hunt you down and take revenge.

the first man [male] - adam - he believes himself to be the mirrored man mentioned in the abrams family book of genesis--the first vampire, plagued to walk the earth--and he has long been in search of his eve.

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[derlost]

★ bakery bliss ༉‧₊˚

ミ ABOUT~ °•*⁀➷ in which you, a darling little baker in hell, come across a most unique client. could it blossom into something more? stick around to find out!

✧･ﾟWARNINGS ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ none really, only tooth-rotting fluff. written with a gn / male reader in mind

ミ AUTHOR’S NOTE ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥hello lovely readers! i’ve been working on this for a long time, and as such, i hope you guys enjoy it! side note for those who’ve been around for a little longer- all requests will be completed shortly, don’t worry! in any case, i hope you all enjoy :)

♥︎ you never planned on going to hell. i mean, nobody really planned on it, but it sure was unexpected, especially for you- someone who did practically no wrong during their life. you were a morally good person- a kind friend, an honest employee, and a helpful samaritan on the streets. no, you weren’t meant to be here at all.

despite it all however, you adapted to the demonic realm quite quickly. you opened a lovely little bakery on the east side of the pentagram, and business was booming. sure, the average sinner might’ve scoffed at your business, but you didn’t mind- not when you were focused on the weirder of your clients…

meetings folks from cannibal town was a given- you only lived a few blocks away, and it seemed that they much enjoyed old-timey bakeries and blueberry muffins to wash down a most questionable meal. you had no issue with these people at all- they were always polite, they kept you in business, and they kept corpses off your patio. this clientele didn’t concern you- they were earnest individuals, and frankly, you enjoyed their visits. it was instead the visits of the ‘adult film’ actors from down the way that really confused you.

similar to how you lived only a few blocks from cannibal town, you also lived a few blocks from hell’s biggest porn studio- owned by the famous overlord valentino himself. their jobs didn’t bother you- more so the tired, poor status of the workers- and when they started coming in just before closing to get a little snack, you began staying up later. one night specifically, you met quite the character…

-

the bell tied to the handle of your door rang a polite little jingle, and you jolted, immediately standing straight up. you had nearly dozed off- and as you trained your eyes to the door, you recognized the man immediately.

it was none other than the one and only angeldust- arguably the most famous pornstar in all of hell. his face was plastered over countless billboards and advertisements, but you were currently more preoccupied with the fact that he was standing in your shop at the asscrack of dawn. with a friendly wave to your new customer, you began to speak. “welcome to the loafing around bakery, i’m m/n! if you need any recommendations or help picking something out, i’ve got you covered.” the spider demon gave the bubblegum in his mouth a final pop before tossing it into the trash, taking his sunglasses off.

“heya, toots. neat little establishment you’ve got here, eh? how’d it get started?” “oh,” you replied with a playful smile, “i loved baking when i was alive, but never got the chance to open a shop. i decided i’d take a chance and roll the dice down here.” “yeah? how’s that working out for you?” you giggled, leaning over the counter, nearly pulling back from the cold- damn this shop and its icy countertops. “i’d say it’s pretty good! a lot of drop ins from cannibal town residents, and um…your crowd.” to this, the white-haired man let out a loud laugh, snorting at your words. “my crowd, eh?? i’ll hand it to you doll, you’re pretty funny. aaaaanyway, my coworkers have been praising this place like it’s the second coming of christ, so i thought i’d stop by. what do you recommend, hmm?” the spider demon pulled his hair through his fingers, giving you a teasing coy smile. he was different from the others…a lot different. you could tell.

after realizing you were staring, you feigned a grin and sat up straight, walking over to behind the display case. “my personal favorites are honeylemon morning and blueberry tea dreams, but normally when people come in during this time of night, i’d recommend them coffee kisses or banana snuggles.” the actor seemed amused at the names of your muffins and cracked a grin, his single golden tooth shining from the glow of your shop’s lights. “coffee kisses or banana snuggles, eh? but what if i wanted to be bold? like, do you do cupcakes?” you paused to giggle, sweeping a stray strand of hair behind your ear. oh, he would be the death of you.

“sometimes. i think we have ‘all the razz’ in stock, but that’s really the only bold cupcake flavor i can think of now.” to this, he quirked a brow. “all the razz?” with a quick nod, you answered. “yes! it’s a uh…a raspberry cake with raspberry filling and frosting. quite delightful, if i may say so myself. though, i wouldn’t recommend it at this hour. you should really get something lighter so you can sleep better.” the spider demon chuckled lightly at your comment, straightening his jacket. “is that so, sweet cheeks?” you couldn’t help the blush creeping onto your face and disguised it with a nervous laugh. “oh, um, well, i just think…y’know, with it being so late in the night, you should probably eat something easier on the stomach and just go get some rest…” you awkwardly averted your gaze to the trashcan in the corner of the room, praying he wouldn’t notice- which he inevitably did- but you ignored it further. the demon’s expression softened, and he stepped closer to the counter.

“aww, well aren’t you a delight? lookin’ out for me, hm?” the spider demon paused to chuckle, the look in his eyes full of genuine curiosity. why were you being so sweet? don’t you know you’re in hell? don’t you know how most people treat him? still, he supposed he couldn’t deny the fact that your kindness was much appreciated, and continued to butter you up. “what a cutie. in that case, i’ll take one of the cupcakes, and one of your favorite sleepy-time muffins. that sound good, pipsqueak?” with a dopey grin you nodded, grabbing a box- medium sized, specially to fit both- and carefully placed in both a raspberry cupcake and a ‘chamomile bliss’ muffin. your hands were nimble and precise as you boxed them up, despite it being far past your bedtime. you moved to the register and began to ring him up, sliding the lovely little pink and white box towards him.

“that’ll be three dollars and fifty cents.” the actor scrunched his nose up, putting a hand on his hip. while he had been nothing but nice to you, you could certainly understand the rumors of him being intimidating- he had a…loud personality to say the least, and you could tell he was quite confident just from his mannerisms. “hon, are you sure i don’t owe you more? feels like a crime to pay you so little, if’m bein’ honest.” with a sincere glance, you began to explain yourself.

“the muffin is on the house.” you spoke gently, blinking at him with a look that could only be described as homey. “on the house?” he questioned, clearly shocked. “oh,nonononono doll, i couldn’t do that. i-” “no, really!! consider it my gift for getting to meet you. just wanna make sure people in your business get enough to eat and that you all sleep. if you insist on paying me, just promise you’ll get some rest. that’s all i ask.” the actor hesitated- he hadn’t seen genuine kindness like yours in a long time- and slowly, allowed himself to break into a cheesy grin, swiping his card.

“you’re too good for this place, toots. don’t let anyone take advantage of that fact, a’ight?” you chuckled in response, waving a hand as you printed out his receipt and passed it to him, wholly blind to the fact that he was casually shoving multiple ten dollar bills into your tip jar. “I’ll manage, but i appreciate your concern. between your coworkers and the residents of cannibal town, i’d say i’m pretty well protected here, ahaha.” the spider demon tenderly took the box into his hands, holding it with care as to make sure nothing got shaken or messed up. taking a step back, he chuckled to you. “i get why everyone likes this place now, it’s a real treat, and i don’t just mean the desserts. in any case, thanks so much for the muffin an’ all of that. you have no idea how much it means to me.”

the white-haired man put his sunglasses back on and slung his purse over his shoulder, beginning to walk to the door, only turning back to wave. “i’ll be back soon sugar, so don’t run out of those lovely little muffins of yours, kay?” his sweet disposition definitely confirmed to you that you had done the right thing- that he was someone worth helping. with a soft wave, you nodded in return. “will do.” “take care of yourself, okay? goodnight, m/n. thanks again for the lovely midnight snack.”

you couldn’t help but beam as the bell on the door jingled upon his departure, and you yawned, leaning onto your elbows atop the counter. yeah, you thought. he was nice. maybe i’ll see him again. and as for him? well, his thoughts weren’t too far off from yours.

yeah, he thought. you were a real sweetheart. maybe he’d see you again sometime…

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

ミ AUTHOR’S NOTE 2˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥hello again! i hope you all enjoyed this fic, and if so, please consider checking out my other works or sending in a request! i adore writing for people, so rest assured i would be happy to write anything you come up with. thank you all again, have a lovely day!

[fanfictionalraven]

Unforgettable

Title: Unforgettable

Song Inspiration: Unforgettable by Thomas Rhett

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,822

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published January, 2018. Flashbacks in italics.

You knew it was stupid to be mad. You weren’t exactly in a “normal” relationship. Dean wasn’t the roses, chocolates, or candle-lit dinners type. And, to be fair, you’d never really considered yourself the type to want those things either. You knew it was stupid to be mad. But, dammit, you couldn’t help it.

One year ago today, you and Dean had met and the chemistry was instantaneous. It had been a great night, the best night of your life honestly. The next day, he brought you back to the bunker and you’d never left. You’d never really defined the relationship, it was a sort of unspoken but obvious dedication.

So maybe it was a little unfair to expect any form of “anniversary” celebration or gifts. But was some form of acknowledgment too much to ask of whatever it was you had? Probably.

You groan and lay your head on the library table. Sam, sitting directly across from you with a lore book, was oblivious to your internal argument. He looks up now.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head, not moving it from the table. “What’s up?” You can hear the laughter in his voice.

“What are we?” You ask. There’s a moments silence before Sam speaks again.

“Well – we’re hunters,” he says. You sit up and narrow your eyes at him. “What?” He asks, laughing again.

“Me and Dean. What are we?” You ask again. His laughter stops and confusion spreads across his face. “Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Are we friends with benefits?”

“Pretty sure you should be having this conversation with Dean,” he tells you, looking back at his book. You groan and lay your head down again. “Why is this suddenly bothering you?”

“Because I can’t decide if I have the right to be mad that he doesn’t remember we met a year ago today,” you admit. Sam starts to laugh again and you sit up quickly.

“He forgot your anniversary, huh?” He asks. You shush him quickly, looking over your shoulder. Dean had been in the garage most of the morning working on his car but he could come back at any moment. “Look, Y/N, I’ve never seen Dean like this with anyone. Ever. You mean more to him than I’m sure he’s said. But he isn’t used to the whole relationship thing. I’m sure he’ll come around though.”

“Hey, Sweetheart. Can you come down here?” You hear Dean call from the hall. You sigh as you stand and start down the corridor. Of course, you had been overreacting. You knew how much Dean cared for you, even if he never said it. And you didn’t need a day set aside for him to prove it more.

You stop short at the entrance to the garage and smile. Dean is leaning back against the hood of the Impala, his hands shoved down in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing your favorite of his flannel shirts, the one that makes his eyes pop a little more. It was the same one he’d been wearing the night you met.

You’d rolled into Lebanon, Kansas earlier that day, having found a case. It was an easy one. Open and shut. A vengeful spirit terrorizing a local family. You’d already worked out who it was and were just waiting for the cover of night to go salt and burn the body.

While you were waiting, you’d decided to hit a local bar. The one you picked looked like just the perfect mix of seedy and respectable. You’d been sitting at the bar for over an hour now, nursing your second bottle of beer, when someone slides onto the stool next to you. A blue and green checkered flannel hugs the muscles of the man’s forearms in all the right ways as he flags the barkeep for a beer. You shake your head quickly, having to remind yourself why you’re here in the first place.

You allow yourself one glance at him and immediately regret it. He’s looking back at you with piercing green eyes, already mentally undressing you. You look forward quickly and take a long drink of your beer before turning to face him. He angles his body towards you as well, smiling in the most irresistible way.

“Look,” you start, avoiding his eyes. “I’m only here for work. I’m really not looking for a drunken one night stand.” They weren’t the words you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him where you were staying for the night but you knew you had to stay focused on the job and if he went back to your motel room you’d never want to leave again. The man laughs and you look up at him now.

“Okay number one, I’m completely sober,” he says before taking a long drink from his bottle. You feel your face heat up when he runs his tongue over his lips. “And B, I’m not looking for a one night stand either.”

“No?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from his lips. He smirks slightly and shakes his head.

“I’d need at least a week with you,” he says. You can’t help the laugh the erupts from you. He smiles as he watches you. “What do you say?” He asks. Before you can answer, someone else is tapping on your shoulder. You turn to find another man.

Under normal circumstances, those circumstances being the man you were currently sitting next to not being there, he would have been a perfectly attractive man. However, your present company seemed to make every other man on the planet pale in comparison. The new suitor smiles at you, a smile that would no doubt be dazzling if you hadn’t already seen the other man’s.

“Care to dance?” He asks, nodding towards the empty space in the room where one couple was drunkenly swaying to some song in their head. You could give him a simple ‘no thank you’ but quickly decide that wouldn’t be any fun. Instead, you reach over next to you, placing your hand on the knee of the man beside you. You feel him twitch under your touch and fight not to smirk.

“Sorry. My boyfriend just got off work,” you tell him. Your ‘boyfriend’ waves at the other guy, a smirking playing at his lips. The man leaves you alone, quickly moving on to another girl in the room. A hand comes over yours and you look over at him.

“Can I at least know my girlfriend’s name?” He asks. You laugh and pull your hand out from under his.

“Y/N,” you tell him, picking your bottle back up. You feel his eyes on you as you take a drink. “Y/N Y/L/N. And you are?”

“Dean Winchester,” he says quickly.

“Babe?” Dean’s voice draws you from the memory. He’s standing in front of you now, a piece of cloth in his hands. You look at it then at him, raising an eyebrow.

“If this is a kinky thing, I’m not in the mood,” you tell him. He rolls his eyes.

“Will you trust me?” He asks. You smile a little and nod. He moves to stand behind you and carefully slips the cloth over your eyes. You sigh as he ties it in place. “Can you see anything?” He asks. You hear him moving back around you and can imagine he’s waving a hand in front of your face.

“Nothing. Dean, what’s this about?” You ask him. He chuckles and takes your hands in his, pulling on you. You take a couple of clumsy steps and hear the door of the Impala opening.

“It’s a surprise,” he says, guiding you carefully into the front seat of the car.

“You’re acting weird,” you tell him. You know he rolls his eyes again before closing the door. A moment later, the door on your other side opens and you feel Dean slide into the seat next to you. His hand comes to rest on your knee, the way it always does when you’re in the car together, before the car starts to move. His thumb rubs against your knee as he drives quietly.

“The Dean Winchester?” You ask, staring at the man next to you. He sits back slightly and nods. You’d heard plenty of stories about the Winchesters and all of their exploits. “I heard you were dead. Like – three different times.”

“Didn’t take. You’re a hunter?” He asks. You nod and look back at the bottle in your hands.

“Are you here for the case?” You ask. He sits back, shaking his head.

“No, actually we live just up the road,” he tells you. You look at him quickly.

“You live somewhere? Like…permanently?” You ask. He laughs lightly and nods, leaning forward onto the bar.

“Yea. Sammy and I have a place. It’s, ugh, an old bunker for a secret society that died out in the 50’s. It’s pretty awesome,” he says. You nod, mulling this over for a moment. “So what’s the case?” He asks, looking back at you now. You shrug and glance at the window.

“Vengeful spirit. Wanna go on a salt and burn with me?” You ask, smiling at him. You knew you could definitely use the muscle. It would take you all night to dig the grave up on your own. But with Dean’s help you could be done in a few hours and maybe even have time for a little something else. Dean smiles as he watches you, as though reading your mind and nods.

“My car’s parked out front,” he says. You smile widely and quickly finish off your beer. Dean tosses some cash onto the bar before rising to his feet and holding a hand out for you. You take his hand, your fingers interlocking, as he pulls you from the bar.

You feel the car come to a stop and cut off. The driver door opens then closes and a moment later your door opens. Dean’s hand takes yours and he carefully helps you from the car. You can smell the dirt and feel the soft earth under your feet.

“Dean, where are we??” You ask, sighing. He stops you by placing his hands on your shoulders from behind. He reaches up and pulls the blindfold off. You blink against the late evening sunlight and look around. It was a sight you knew well but you were very confused as to why you were here. “A cemetery? Are we working a case?” You ask, looking back at Dean. He rolls his eyes.

“Not just any cemetery,” he says, turning you to face the graves again. You sigh as you look around before breaking into a wide smile as it hits you.

“Our first date,” you say as his arms snake around your waist.

You’re sitting on the edge of the hole you and Dean had been working on for some time now. He’s shed a couple of layers, his jacket and flannel shirt, leaving himself only in the tight black t-shirt that clung to him with sweat. You bite your lip as you watch him move another shovel full of dirt out of the hole.

“Ya know, as much as I love that you’re checking me out right now, we could be done if you’d help,” he says suddenly, looking over at you. You blink then smile coyly and shrug.

“Well, you’ve been trying to show off this whole time I thought I’d finally let you,” you tell him. He stops and turns to face you, resting his arm on the standing shovel.

“It is working?” He asks with a smirk. You shake your head as you look him over. Pushing off the ground, you slide down into the grave and walk over to him.

“I mean, if I had a thing for the sexy, bad-boy hunter with a heart of gold, maybe,” you say. He throws his head back laughing and you suddenly realize you could spend the rest of your life watching him laugh. You quickly shake away those thoughts as you reach for the shovel. You dig into the dirt and hit something hard instantly. Looking back at Dean, you smirk, “Finished.” His eyes narrow and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you kneel down and wipe the dirt from the top of the coffin. With Dean’s help, you pry open the top half of the casket.

“Well, there she is,” he says, pointing to the old bones.

Dean climbs out of the hole then offers you a hand. You take his hand and allow him to pull you out as well. Your pour the salt over the remains as Dean dumps the gasoline in. You pull the box of matches from your back jean pocket and strike one on the side of the box before dropping the lit match into the open coffin.

“So,” Dean starts as the flames engulf the body. You look over at him. “You think I’m sexy.” You roll your eyes and grab two fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him into a deep kiss quickly. His hands find your waist instantly as his lips move against yours. You pull away from his lips abruptly and take one of his hands in yours, pulling him away from the burning grave and back to the Impala parked a few yards away. “Are we leaving?” Dean asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice. You laugh lightly and open the back door before sliding in.

“You coming?” You ask, looking out at him when he doesn’t follow. He stares down at you in disbelief before shaking his head and getting in quickly, closing the door behind him. You move into his lap, straddling his waist as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Ya know, I’ve got a bed back at the bunker,” he says, his fingers grazing the skin at the edge of your shirt. You smile and lean in, kissing his lips briefly.

“We’ll get there eventually,” you tell him. He smirks slightly.

“Oh?” He asks. You laugh lightly and nod, running your fingers against the back of his neck.

“Well, yea. You said you’d need at least a week with me, right?” You ask. He blinks and his smirk turns into a wide smile.

“I did say that,” he says, nodding. You smile and lean back in to him, pausing just before meeting his lips again. He chuckles and shakes his head. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday, Sweetheart.” You let out a laugh before kissing him.

Dean’s lips graze against your cheek gently and you smile, running your hands over his arms. He squeezes your waist slightly before turning you around to face him. You bite your lip and look down.

“I didn’t think you remembered,” you confess. He smiles before his lips find your forehead and you look back up at him.

“I remember everything about that night. I remember what you were wearing, what you were drinking. I remember the entire conversation on the way to the cemetery. I remember that first kiss and then you taking charge like you did. I remember taking you back to the bunker and staying up all night just talking. And the next morning, we made breakfast together and you met Sammy,” he says, his eyes soft as he watches you. You swallow hard, suddenly on the brink of tears. “And you stayed for a week.”

“And that week turned into two which turned into a month,” you say, laughing lightly. Dean smiles and his lips graze down the bridge of your nose.

“And a year later, here we are,” he says, his voice soft. You smile and close your eyes, standing there in his arms. His lips brush against your cheek before coming to rest next to your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. Your smile somehow manages to grow even wider as you lean away from him slightly. He’s watching you again, afraid he’s stepped too far. You stand up and press your lips against his in a soft, tender kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before you pull away.

“I love you too,” you tell him. He lets out a breath and you laugh lightly. “Did you think otherwise?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“You’re too good for me. It would make more sense if you didn’t,” he says. You roll your eyes at him before running your fingers into his hair.

“I moved in with you pretty much after one night together. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him. He smiles and nods slightly.

“Well that’s good, cause I meant what I said a year ago,” he tells you. You raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m gonna marry you someday.” You laugh again before pressing your lips against his, hoping it wouldn’t take him a year to get around to that too.

[muddyorbsblr]

timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about  half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[tossawary]

I'm thinking about "What if the main character did not have a secret, powerful family background and was just some random person?" AUs for different stories, because I personally find that situation more compelling most of the time and I think it introduces more interesting struggles. While thinking about a bunch of other stories, I ended up thinking about Aragorn in "Lord of the Rings".

Now, Aragorn is a special case because 1) I wouldn't really call him THE main character and the "noble" members of the Fellowship are well-contrasted by the hobbits. The hobbits may be mostly Shire gentry (except for Sam), but on the grand stage of Middle Earth, they're still unimpressive nobodies. Frodo is already our ordinary hero. 2) Aragorn's road to kingship comes with him struggling with his ancestor's failures and accepting the heavy burdens that come with being Isildur's heir. This is specifically an arc of a character struggling with their family history. I am absolutely not saying that Aragorn being royalty makes LOTR a bad story and that it would be better if he was just some random guy. I think this is a well-written character storyline that is a key feature of the overall story.

But I do think it would be really funny to write fanfiction where Aragorn wasn't Arathorn's son. (There is the issue of the heritage that makes Aragorn age slowly, but maybe you could wiggle that so that Aragorn has that kind of heritage from a different source?) Like, the line of Isildur has died out, and let's say that Aragorn's mother takes shelter in Rivendell with her son, and kid Aragorn ends up wandering around to the broken sword and picking up the handle. And either Aragorn's mother lies to Elrond about Aragorn being Arathorn's son or Elrond happens across kid Aragorn with the broken sword and thinks... "Hey, what if we just... lied about it?"

Now, this could end really badly! As I vaguely understand it, the Silmarillion (which I have not read) contains a bunch of examples where lying did not go well, so maybe this lie is how Middle Earth falls into chaos in this AU. Whoops.

But even though this breaks some plotlines, I'm a sucker for adoption storylines. I love adoption being treated as important. It's compelling to imagine Elrond and Aragorn's mother carefully explaining the situation with the sword to him, and then this child just... stubbornly deciding that he's going to become Isildur's heir. Maybe Aragorn's determination falters at some point, he gives up on the idea, and he later has to return to Elrond as an adult and persuade him that no, he means it this time, mankind isn't just about bloodlines, he's going to pick up this burden on behalf of all of humanity. I think that there's something powerful in a person deciding that no, I'm not of Isildur's blood, but I have his same potential for success and for failure, and I'm here. I'm fighting. I picked up the broken sword and that's good enough, isn't it? Who are you to say I'm not his heir? I'm HERE.

I think there's powerful magic in that too. (Also, Arathorn is dead and getting adopted as a father by some random kid. Sure. Okay. I think that's just funny.)

(Also, oh my, there is SO MUCH tragedy if Aragorn being Isildur's heir is a lie and Boromir died believing it. The GUILT. The GUILT that Aragorn would feel when Boromir says, "I would have followed you, my brother, my captain, my king." Like, oh man, now you HAVE TO make it true.)

Now, maybe Aragorn doesn't become King of Gondor in this AU or maybe he does. Maybe Faramir becomes king instead. Maybe it becomes well known by the end of the journey that Aragorn isn't a blood descendant of Isildur and maybe it's a secret known only to the Fellowship. I'd like to think that he still marries Arwen. I like the idea of Arwen happily and knowingly marrying some nobody lying about his heritage and Elrond internally being like, "This is kind of on me."

The most important thing here is that it would be so fucking funny if Aragorn (and Elrond and Gandalf and Galadriel) successfully lied to Sauron the Deceiver. Sauron's like, "Oh? A secret heir come out of hiding to fight against me? Sounds legit." And at some point near the end, just before some hobbits chuck a ring into a volcano behind his back, Sauron is looking at Aragorn like, "Wait a minute, what the fuck, you lying little SHIT."

(Or Sauron finds out via Pippin that Aragorn is lying and feels SO SMUG about how he's going to crush a false king, which just adds to Aragorn's whole "made you look!" distraction keeping Sauron from noticing the hobbits sneaking into Mount Doom.)

[wackyharpy]

Merchant's Daughter (Part 2)

God! Aemond x Human●Fem! Reader

Summary: In order to ease the wrath of one of the Gods, the girl among humans is chosen to be gifted to him.

Part 1

To find more stories — masterlist

A/N: I know you've been waiting for it. So here is chapter 2, finally. Want to express my gratitude for your likes, comments, and reblogs. I appreciate it! Love you, guys! Enjoy the story :)

P.S. English isn't my native.

Warnings ⚠️

NSFW, sexual content, typical treatment of women those times, she/her pronouns.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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The man of her father's age opened the gates and kindly smiled at her.

"Welcome to Ēbrion, my lady. The residence of the God of Murk and Affliction — my lord."

She examined the pale complexion of the man, who wore perfectly ironed and starched white shirt with a black suit. His skin was pallid as if the blood no longer rushed in the veins. The man was acting as an alive human, though, there were doubts whether he was one.

"Who are you?" She cautiously inquired, still considering if she could trust him.

"I am a butler, my lady," the man was still smiling warmly.

"What is E... Ebrion?"

"Ēbrion," he pronounced it correctly and went on explaining, "this is the name of the castle, my lady. It means "dusk" in the Valyrian language."

Valyrian — the language of Gods.

The butler took her case and pointed at the lane with his thin arm. She made several uncertain steps walking into the territory of the castle. The gates behind her started closing by themselves what surprised her a little.

"Why is the castle named like that?" She curiously looked at the man and then turned her glance to the great piece of architecture in front of her.

"Due to my lord was born at dusk," she heard the butler's soft voice behind her back. "Please, my lady, may us come inside. Dinner is already awaiting for you, along with a hot bath. You must be exhausted after the journey."

She felt someone's presence the whole dinner as if an invisible person were in the room together with her, hiding stealthily. Somber aura hung over making the air in the castle humid. Although, it could have been her nervousness, and heightened temperature of the body due to her anxiety.

Massive walls were decorated with modeling, ornamented in pretentious paintings of mythical creatures and flowers; pictures in wooden frames adorned the rooms. Events of Gods' and humans' history were depicted on them. At times, it seemed the characters on canvases revived — expressions were altering on their faces, their eyes were watching her with the penetrating gaze. Here and there muted fragments of their conversations were echoing across the halls.

The servants of the castle were moving around ghostly — once they were working in one place, then, after a blink, there was no one in the room, the servants quickly were shifting to other places.

When the girl needed explanation or help, miraculously the butler appeared near her. A moment she turned her head, he vanished as though he weren't there initially.

Who were all these people serving the God of Murk and Affliction? Ghosts? Corpses who came to life? She doubted that someone ever would provide her answers.

She had been staying in this bleak place for a week and hadn't ever met its owner. Each day was gloomy and dull, the atmosphere outside was constant. Once in a while, it was drizzling — at those moments chilly spirit was sweeping through the halls, and the girl was hiding in the chamber, allocated for her, under the thick blankets.

The longer she had been staying here, the more dreadful anticipation of the meeting with the God became. She couldn't comprehend why he still hadn't appeared in his residence. But, she had a horrible feeling the moment she would meet him, it would be the most terrible encounter in her life. It seemed as if it were easier to face the Death than the God of Murk and Affliction himself.

One evening was especially murky. Since morning it had been pouring, so the whole day felt macabre. The poor girl had low spirits — there was no joy in here, nothing to do, nowhere to go, nobody to speak to.

The servants had prepared a hot bath for her. While she was lying relaxed in the tub, pleasant water was soothing her strained muscles, several women were readying her bed, changing usual white linen into black one with red intricate patterns on it.

After, they dried her with soft towels, brought her a beautiful transparent nightgown to wear, something unpleasant tugged and then dropped in her abdomen. Her mind gave the cue that tonight was going to be the encounter. Their lord was coming back home, and his servants were preparing Ēbrion to greet him with lush tables full of mouthwatering dishes, polished floors and decorations, and the main gift who was standing in this chamber.

Her.

Now she realized why her bedroom was in the remote part of the castle — nobody would hear her voice, her screams, her calls for help. As though there were somebody who would safe her.

"My lady," the servant gently took her hand and led her to the bed, helping her to get onto it.

"Please, lie on your back, my lady."

She did as she was asked. Her breath caught in her lungs — the feeling of terror was capturing her body slowly.

"What are you doing?" The girl jumped terrified when the servants grabbed both her arms.

"Please, my lady, you have to lie on your back," the woman's gentle voice asked her again.

Be obedient.

The girl gulped and lowered herself on the duvet. She was trembling, as a small leaf ready to fall on the ground in late autumn, while her wrists got tied to the headboard. A silk bandage covered her eyes — according to the servants' words, it was an order.

And there she was lying, alone, on the fresh and still cold bed, her arms attached to the headboard with ropes. She relied only on her ears hearing attentively what was happening around. The baldachin made of heavy fabric was completely closed. She was in the utter darkness.

Anticipation was eating her from the inside. It felt as if her heart could jumped out of her chest because of how afraid she was.

The echoes of someone's steps were audible in the corridor, reaching closer and closer to her chamber. She strained her body and tightly clenched her legs — was stiff as the violin's string.

All at once, the doors opened and she heard heavy male breathing, and loud stomps of leather boots. She tried to produce no sounds as though he didn't know she was here.

The God knew everything since the moment the convoy entered his lands. His henchmen saw her every step in the mist — vultures, ravens, trees, serpents, the fog itself. Everything and everyone felt foreign presence of a stranger, a human they'd never seen. And he already knew her name — the wind had whispered him.

The girl heard clatters of the crystal jug and goblet, and then quiet pouring of the liquid.

"Do you know who I am?" She heard a deep voice rumbling right from the chest. It felt dangerous and spellbinding at the same time as if looking at the volcanic eruption and hearing grumbles that come from the inside of the mountain.

"God of Murk and Affliction," her own voice sounded pathetic that was natural for such a miserable human she was.

"Remember it. I am a God, you are a human. A little pitiful human."

The baldachin opened suddenly revealing her small body to him worn in transparent fabric. He, without any shame, was staring at her young untouched body smelling her scent — dulcet and virginal.

The girl began moving, yanking the ropes, pulling her legs. Her heart was beating as a bird in the cage, fluttering small wings with the hope to escape. Unfortunately, there was no way back, no way home.

The God's large palm wrapped her thin neck pinning to the bed, his long nose grazed the side of her left cheek reaching her ear.

"Be a good girl for me. If you appreciate your life, be obedient," he whispered and left a light kiss on the earlobe.

She was incapable to breath, her body felt numb due to fear — the girl was lying still on the bed praying to remain alive after this encounter.

But who was she praying to? The Gods who themselves suggested to send her here?

She became alone, abandoned by humans and Gods who knew, who saw, who heard everything from above. They didn't care. One mortal girl was not a big deal.

The night had been dragging a long while, darker than it had ever been in any place of the world. It felt like infinity until the dawn. The infinity with his hard cock between her quivering legs, his heavy breathing and rumbling growls and moans.

She felt sticky hotness between her thighs — blood mixed with her juices and his semen. His strong hands left bruises on her innocent body, he bit her with his sharp fangs, penetrated her with rough thrusts. It was pleasure and pain she was experiencing. Her fleshy insides were fluttering because of exhaustion, but for the God it wasn't enough. He interchangeably used his shaft and long digits exploring the girl's interior.

Her crying didn't halt him, her moans encouraged him to keep on moving.

He examined every inch of her body craving to know all her cavities, convexities, and curves. He played with her breasts, nibbled her nipples, smelled her hair, and teased her clit.

She was different, unlike the Goddesses he had laid with. He sensed purity in her which he was devastating with his sinful actions, wicked tongue and perverse, constantly seeking for fulfillment dick. He adored her hot blood that could be heard rushing in her veins, he relished her taste feasting between her legs for hours till she couldn't take it anymore.

Everything was his from then. She belonged to him and only him.

He took her almost every night, and when the daylight touched the floors of her chamber, the servants always fetched her hot bath and breakfast. The God bestowed her with rich dresses made of heavenly fabrics and precious jewels that no mortal queens or kings ever possessed.

She was his own little human.

She was a good girl for him, and according to his promise he once made, she enjoyed only pleasure in bed. The God allowed her to explore the castle and the territory outside as a gift for her obedience.

Daily she had been spending time in the library, in the garden, or riding a horse in the surroundings of the castle. Her white stallion — a present from the God — was her loyal friend ready to take her anywhere she desired.

The girl was scared no more. The God's henchmen were watching her, the woods were protecting her from the possible danger that may have come from outside of his possessions.

She felt save and secure. Once she came here as a slave, a toy for the God, now she became his girl who he cared for and cherished.

***

The girl was bouncing on the God's hard cock standing on the hands and knees. Light breeze was tickling her nude body, sweet scent of grass and flowers enveloped the space around them.

Since her appearance here, the God's lands has changed reasonably. Thick fog has gone from Ēbrion to the borders of his possessions hiding them from the world outside. The sky wasn't overcast anymore allowing the rays of the sun to elucidate the territories around.

"My Lord..." she moaned loudly.

He gripped her hair tightly accelerating his thrusts.

"My Lord... Aemond! I need a break. I can't take it anymore," her ragged breathing showed her tiredness.

The God groaned, and grudgingly came out of her hot insides. She stretched her body on the blanket, closed her eyes enjoying the warmth of the day. The woods around them were shuffling. How much time had passed since she arrived in here? She didn't remember.

The days and nights blurred, time had no sense for her anymore. Once she was cut from the world she was born in, left forsaken in the unknown place, but now it seemed to be just a memory of long ago times.

In front of her was sitting her beloved man, the God who was spreading his wrath in the world, but sought love and appreciation in her hands.

Her dear Aemond.

"Are you tired, my love?" He took her arm and kissed it.

"A bit, my lord," she smiled, exploring his sturdy body with her curious eyes, and stopping her gaze at his thick cock patiently waiting to be buried deep within her walls again.

"Hmmm..." He thoughtfully rubbed her abdomen. Something began sparking in his good eye.

"What are you thinking about?" She half rose up on her elbows.

"Want to breed you, my love. To conceive a child with you," lust was heard on his tongue. He leaned his face closer to her, his silver hair glistening in the beams of the daylight.

"Do you want a half-God child from a mortal woman? I'm not even a queen, just a merchant's daughter."

An astute smile appeared on his face. He delineated her cheek with his long finger, then gently kissed her full lips.

"I don't want a half-God child. I want you to give birth to a God." He whispered into her mouth, and then pinned her to the blanket with the weight of his body.

She gulped and asked surprisingly:

"How?"

"I will make you my wife. My Goddess."

With these words he pushed his hard cock into her entrance, catching her moan with his lips.

[pro-sipper]

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat"

About the tag, the origin, and why I think no one on either side of the fandom divide knows how to use it

First of all, I'm crosstagging because I think it's a general issue, not just something for pro or anti shippers. I see the tag get misused on both sides and I just wanted to throw my two cents in

So, where did the term originate? Like all culturally significant things online, it started as a meme. More specifically, a meme from the television show Arrested Development. Character A has put a dead dove into a brown paper bag to store in the family's fridge. On the bag, he has taped a sign that reads, in big bold letters, "DEAD DOVE. Do Not Eat!"

Character B comes across the bag, reads the warning, and opens it anyway. When he's met with, you guessed it, a dead dove, he proclaims "I don't know what I expected".

This is an example of (and has since basically become the spiritual successor to) the "Exactly What It Says On The Tin" trope.

If you want to check out the full history and countless examples of the trope, please check out the page on tvtropes. But for a slightly shorter history - it originated in a British commercial for Ronseal's Quick Drying Woodstain, which the tin claimed "dried quickly". And in the commercial they told you "It does exactly what it says on the tin!" So, the tin says what the product does, then the product does it. You get the idea.

In fandom spaces, the trope just means that the title of Thing (be it movie, show, fanfic, etc) tells you exactly what happens IN Thing. If a show is called "Buffy The Vampire Slayer", you already know it's about a girl named Buffy who slays vampires. If the movie is called "Cocaine Bear", you can bet a bear will get into some cocaine at some point. If there's a fanfic called "Fluttershy Has Tea With Jesus"... you get the idea.

While both tags started out with the same intentions and meaning, I don't think it's any wonder that "dead dove do not eat" has been so easy to misinterpret. For one, "exactly what it says on the tin" sounds more straightforward. You don't have to understand the specific reference to infer it means to check the label (in this case, tags) before purchasing (opening) the product (fanfic)

But dead dove is harder to understand if you don't know the reference. And at a glance, it sounds much darker. Doves have symbolism in multiple religions, and are seen as a symbol of peace. A dead dove evokes images of gore, violence, general unpleasantness. It must only apply to something sinister, right?

The thing about "exactly what it says on the tin" is that the tin needs to say something. You can't point at a blank label and say "here's what you can expect". People would be much less likely to engage with your product if that were the case

In the same vein, slapping "dead dove do not eat" on a fic with no other tags can lead to confusion. In this tag's case, it's a warning. But what are you warning about if you don't also put it in the tags? It leaves people's minds to conjure up only grim and upsetting images of what might be in your fic. Especially when, as it's also common to do, the tag gets shortened to simply "dead dove".

And while, yes, the tag is most likely to get slapped onto fics with dark or upsetting subject matter, that means something different for everyone who comes across it.

Most people seem to think it only applies to inappropriate relationships (age gap, incest, etc). But I've seen it applied to a variety of things, from potentially triggering material (like suicide) to things that simply may not be everyone's cup of tea (like excessive gross-out toilet humor).

In the end, "dead dove do not eat" is a tag that, in my opinion, should not be used as a descriptor as to what type of content your story contains. But rather, a gentle warning to say "hey, I'm specifically telling you what you're about to encounter, so whatever happens next is up to you".

After all, if you read the warning and still open the bag to find something you don't like...

I don't know what you were expecting.

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

The First Meeting

main masterlist

spencer reid x famous!reader Universe

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: stalking, murder, character asking to die (if I missed something please let me know)

Today was supposed to be an easy day for the BAU. It was a paperwork day, no case, no one dying on their watch.

These were some of Spencer's favourite days, don’t get him wrong he loves being in the field and profiling killers, and when they arrest an unsub, that’s the best feeling.

But having days every now and again where they don’t have to travel and Spencer can read and reflect on their previous case, he greatly enjoys it. And he can’t say he’s the only one, but he can say he’s the only one that uses paperwork days to do paperwork.

Penelope walks in the glass doors humming a tune, foreign to Spencer.

“You got that James Dean day dream, hmm hm mhmmm, I got that red lip classic” 

“What’s got you so happy, babygirl?” Derek says, from across Spencer.

“Um, because The Met Gala is tonight! Biggest night in Fashion! And no case means I can watch it.”

“Oh, I must have forgot to put it on my calendar.” Derek, sarcastically remarks while getting up and out of his chair on his way to refill his coffee cup. All the while JJ comes rushing the bullpen, giving the rest of her co-workers a sympathetic face.

“Just when I thought, we would have an easy day.” Emily mumbles getting out her desk chair and walking away with JJ.

“Wally Melman, a music producer in New York, was killed two weeks ago, and Natali Ryan , a singer and songwriter, was killed 4 days ago also in New York.” JJ says while the screen behind her shows pictures of the crime scene.

“The police said they found pictures with the victim's face with ‘You’re Next’ written in red marker across their face. Suspected to have gotten in the mail.”

“And why have they called us now?” Derek says, clearing knowing there was more JJ was going to say but wanting her to get to it quicker. 

“Yesturday, another singer/songwriter, by the name of Y/n L/n-” 

“Oh. My God!” Penny interrupts JJ, having come in to tell the team an update she had gotten from the NYPD. “uh- sorry, I’m sorry.. Um, the NYPD wants a couple of us to go straight to the crime scene once we land, and that the next vic- uh Y/n L/n I suppose- is at the station waiting.” Penny says, turning and leaving after finishing her sentence. 

“Okay everyone, wheels up in 30. JJ can fill us in on the jet.”

When the team arrived in New York, Hotch sent Rossi and Emily to the recent crime scene, and JJ to talk to the media, while himself, Spencer, and Derek went to the station.

When the three got to the station they were shown the note Y/n had gotten from the unsub, different to the others, hers having ‘You Owe Me’ written across her face instead. The team walked into the room they were told Y/n would be in.

Spencer knew she would be pretty, everyone in Hollywood was gorgeous that’s how it worked, but this girl was easily the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, even with her bleached hair that he could assume was a split second decision.

She sat on a chair next to one of the officers' desks, as if she was like everyone else and not a world-wide popstar. Y/n and her manager Joe look up, hearing footsteps walk into the room. She stood up to shake Hotch’s hand. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you and thank you so much.” “Of course” 

She goes to shake Derek hand, saying a greeting similar to the one she gave Hotch, then she comes face to face with Spencer, or possibly- not definitely the most beautiful man she has ever seen, sticking out her hand she says, “Hi, nice to meet you..”

“Dr. Spencer Reid- or just Spencer, you don’t have to call me doctor.” “Nice to meet you Spencer.” Y/n stays looking at Spencer maybe a second longer than she should have. It’s just so hard to look away from a man that beautiful. When Y/n does finally look away, she takes a seat and they begin their questioning. 

“How well do you know Natalie Ryan?”

“Uh, we talked when we were at the same events and were always friendly, but we weren’t friends.”

“How about Wally Melman?”

“What?” 

“Wally Melman, he was a producer who was killed a couple months ago.” Spencer jumps in, making Y/n turn to address him, while she asks her next statement .

“The paper said that it was a robbery.” “The paper was wrong.” Derek responded quickly.

“Did you know him?” Hotch asks, wanting to get back to the questions he has for Y/n.

“I wanted to work with him on my last album, but he started working with..” Y/n cut herself off.

“Who?” Spencer asks concernedly, seeing the scared look on Y/n's face.

“Natalie Ryan, and they beat Y/n for song of the year” Joe says while Y/n is setting her face to rest in her hands, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you ever have the feeling that someone is following you, or watching you?” Derek asks.

“Only every second I spend outside my house. I have fans, and paparazzi following me everywhere. It’s part of the job.” 

“Do you ever get repetitive phone calls, hang ups, or gifts sent anonymously?” Spencer asks.

“I receive flowers, Lilies, my favourite. The seventh of each month they get sent to each of my homes, they just show up on the doorstep. Never a note, nothing.” 

After a few more of their questions it just becomes too much, knowing that these people are being killed because of her or ‘for’ her and Y/n gets up and leaves the room. Not being able to actually leave given the cameras outside, she doesn’t get too far. And Spencer is right behind her.

“Y/n wait!”

“Can you explain what the hell is going on?”

“Well, it’s still rather speculative, but it appears there’s a delusional assassin who’s killing people to help further your career. It probably started as a stalker. An erotomaniac stalker. There’s a psychopathology of the evolution of these types of stalkers and the fact that he’s contacting you indicates that he believes you owe him something. This model frequently concludes itself with one of two possibilities, either the stalker will kill himself or he’ll kill the object of his affection.”

If Spencer wasn’t talking about the possibility of Y/n’s untimely death, she would have had more time to find Spencer’s rambling and seemingly never ending knowledge hot.

Y/n had gotten home from her time at the station, hoping to be able to relax as she has the Met tomorrow night. But when she had gotten to her front door the yellow notepad paper taped onto it caught her eye.

After reading the note she called the station immediately. The BAU had arrived looking over the note, Y/n was in the room but not listening, she onlys snaps back into listening to the conversations when she hears Spencer. 

“In English?” one of the officers asks.

“That is English actually.” Y/n smiles at that, while Spencer continues, getting cut off by Derek not too far into his explanation. Y/n finally speaks up, after the team starts talking about how she should continue, as if she isn’t there.

“I’m standing right here guys..”

“If we did remove you from the street, you couldn’t stay here, we would have to take you to an undisclosed location.”

“I have a fitting here in 30 mins, and the Met tonight, then I’m all yours. Look, I don't want to be afraid of this lunatic.”

"We can clear all but essential personnel, and up your security.”

“Derek and Spencer will stay here with you.”

“Okay.”

The team getting Y/n ready for the Met have set up, Y/n just finished getting hair and makeup done in just her underwear and a robe. Spencer walks up to Y/n while she’s opening a greenhouse ginger shot to drink.

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive earlier.” Spencer says, referring to when he followed her outside of the questioning room and told her there was a possibility this stalker/assassin guy will kill her, just a tad insensitive.

But nonetheless Y/n responds with, “It’s fine, you were just doing your job, right?” “Yeah.” Y/n takes her ginger shot with a look of remorse on her face. She reaches for the soda in Spencer’s hand, to wash it down. 

“You don’t mind sharing with me do you?”  Spencer quickly shakes his head mumbling a quick ‘no’ while Y/n’s team calls her to get into the dress, Y/n takes off the robe she was wearing, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen, then throwing the robe over a nearby chair. Now standing in just her underwear she smiles at Spencer before walking over to the team helping her get into the dress.

Leaving Spencer to watch her as she subtly sways her hips slightly more than usual when she walks. Spencer takes a sip of the soda Y/n had handed back after taking a sip, Derek coming over to tease Spencer about the scene he just watched.

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” “Shut up.” Spencer says as he walks away. “Go get ‘em, lover.”

Y/n didn’t get to stay at the Met nearly as long as she wished. With double the security and Spencer there with her, she knew she wouldn’t have the night she was hoping for, but maybe something close.

But as she danced with Tom Hiddleston, Spencer got the call to take her to the safe house. Spencer didn’t really want to interrupt Y/n dancing on who he assumes is  another famous person, but he had to, for her safety. 

“Um- Y- Y/n we have to go.” Spencer says while struggling to gain her attention.

“Really?” “Yeah..” “Okay” she sighs, turning to Tom, mumbling an apology and some fake excuse.

They got to Y/n's home. Spencer rambling about safety measures Y/n should take. “You should also probably change all your phone numbers.” “I’m unlisted.” “Anytime you call an 800 number or an 888 number your phone number’s put into a data bank that’s then sold to telemarketers. If someone gets your cell phone number they can go online and research all your records.”

Y/n looks at Spencer expecting him to continue, but when he doesn’t she assumes he’s done, and gets up to walk into her kitchen, saying as she gets up, “You’re very cute when you ramble.” Causing Spencer to freeze but when she turns the corner out of his sight he rushes to keep up with her.

“You should also probably carry a piece of paper and a pen with you wherever you go in case you see any suspicious licence plates that often reappear.” Spence trails of looking closely at a collage hung up on Y/n’s wall 

“It’s a photographic collage. I like how obscure it is.”

“You should also get a dog. Like a guard dog of some sort.” Spencer says, staring intently at the collage but not acknowledging what Y/n said about it. 

“I don’t think so, I'm a cat person. Dogs are not for me… Earl grey good?”

“Wha- what?”

“Tea, do you want some tea?”

“Uh yes, yes sure.”

“Okay” Y/n says smiling at his nervousness.

Y/n walks into the living room, in her swimsuit with a robe overtop, coming to stand next to Spencer while he stares intently at the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. 

“Are you feeling anything?” “There is something definitely appealing about it.” “That’s a start” Y/n says while chuckling.

Turning on her heels towards the back door to the pool. This catches Spencer’s actions wondering what she's doing, he asks, “What are you doing?” “Going for a swim.” Y/n responds nonchalantly. “What? No, Y/N!” Spencer yells following her, but before he can reach her she dives into the pool.

Swimming up to the surface and wiping her face with her hands. She looks so gorgeous, she looks like a movie star, which is not far off. But Spencer really shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she is when he’s job is to keep her safe, and her being out here is not safe.

“Y/n, you cannot do this.” “Just a few minutes?” She ‘asks’ while giving Spencer puppy dog eyes. “Go get a suite in the house.” “What? No, I’m not going to grab a suit. Are you kidding me? No.” Spencer says in that high pitched tone he does, she’s only heard it once before, but she can’t help but find it so cute.

“Join me.” “No, I’m going to join you.” “Why not?” “You’re being pursued by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head!” “I’m not going to stop living my life because of him.” Y/n turns to float in the water. “Y/n, I’m begging you. Will you please get out of the pool?”

“Come on, Spence, you should live a little.” “Live a little? I’ve not known you for 24 hours, I feel like I’ve already aged 10 years.” “Ugh, I can’t be that bad.” “Yes, you are that bad.” Y/n turns off of her back and starts to swim to the edge of the pool Spencer is standing at. 

“Fine, but can you help me out at least?” She says putting on an innocent face as if she really did want help out of the pool. When Spencer leans down to grab her hand to help her up, Y/n pulls him into the pool causing a big splash following after Spencer falls in. 

Which then causes a laugh to come from Y/n as Spencer rises to the water's surface. 

“Yes, very funny. Laugh it up, Y/n. Hilarious. My gun’s wet. That’s just great” Spencer swims to the edge to get his gun out of the water, Y/n swimming behind him, still chuckling. 

“My clothes.” “I told you to grab a suit.” 

While Spencer looks down at his wet chest, Y/n’s hand comes to rest on his peck, causing Spencer to look up at Y/n. When he looks at her, she is already looking in his eyes, her eyes asking the question ‘do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?’ the answer being ‘yes’ as Spencer starts to lean in. Not knowing what he’s doing, leaning in to kiss Y/n L/n global superstar? Who does he think he is, thinking she would want to kiss him? But contrary to Spencer's beliefs, Y/N leans in too, pulling his body closer to hers faster by his tie. As their lips collide, it feels as if the world slows down. For the first time in a long time Y/n feels normal, regular, ordinary, in the best possible way. She feels in the way Spencer's lips are moving against hers that he doesn’t want her for her fame, or looks, but for her. Just her. But then Spencer pulls away. It had only been a couple seconds, how could a kiss that short hold that much emotion? Spencer’s words stop her from thinking too much. 

“This is completely inappropriate.” “Spence..” Y/n looks into Spencer's eyes only looking away when she closes them and pulls him into another kiss, by his tie. This kiss, still sweet and emotion filled, yet rougher, as if they had gotten that much more comfortable now versus 15 seconds ago. Their lips move together roughly, Y/n tongue brushing Spencer’s lips looking for access, which causes Spencer to move his lips back from Y/n’s again. “No, there’s this thing called transference.” Spencer says, all the while Y/n is trying to recover from the best kiss of her life, and Spencer has no idea. “Do you not like me?” “What?” Spencer says quickly like him not liking her, and is just the most insane idea in the world, and truthfully that’s not far off. “Was that kiss not good?” “No- no it was very good.” “Because I like you.” “I like you too. It’s just I’m a federal agent. You know. And I’m supposed to protect you.” “Then you should keep me close.” Y/n mumbles moving her lips to Spencers again. Spencer pulls back to start talking again, as Y/N’s kisses move to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin every so often, the first nibble causing Spencer to let out a surprised noise that quickly turns into a moan. “I’m just, hmm.. I’m a little worried, you know? We’re in a pool.” “Are we?” “And it’s uh.. We’re pretty much exposed.” Y/n moves to give Spencer's lips a quick peck, before responding to his concerns. “We have cops. We have cops posted out front.” Y/n cuts herself off to kiss Spencer again, “There are coyotes out back.” Y/n pauses looking at Spencer’s lips, while licking her own, then shooting her eyes up to Spencer’s “And then it’s just you and me.” Y/n moves her lips to be hovering over Spencer’s their noses rubbing against each other, it feels much more intimate than just kissing him, breathing in the after shave and cologne mixed with chlorine soaked into his skin is a smell Y/n would never get sick of, no matter how much she hated the smell of chlorine. She moves her lips back to the spot she found on his neck that makes him the most reactive. “Stop- I have to tell you something.” “What?” “I didn’t want to tell you this before, because I was a little bit worried… I didn’t know how to say it, but I can’t not tell you.” “Spence, just tell me. What is it?” “Your manager, Joe… Hotch went to check on him, but he got there too late.” Y/n looks into Spencer’s eyes any ounce of a look that would tell her he wasn’t serious. Because Joe couldn’t be dead. Not because of her, Joe was like family, no matter how weird he was. Joe was always there. Y/n turns away not being able to look at Spencer, “How could you-” She turns back to him, looking Spencer in the eyes as she aks, “How could you not tell me?” “I was afraid you’d be upset.” “You knew? How could you know and not tell me?” “Y/n, I’m so sorry” Y/n moves towards the edge of the pool to pull herself out, Spencer trying to help her. “Don’t- Don’ touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” Y/n gets out walking back into the house with a towel around herself, leaving Spencer in the pool.

Spencer walks into Y/n’s living room, seeing her sitting on her couch crying, he wants to comfort her. Just don't know how. “Y/n?...Are you still… Are you okay?” “Joe was like family.” Hearing Y/n cry hurts Spencer more than he thought possible from a girl he met not even 24 hours ago. “It’s just so hard to trust people in this industry, you don’t know who to believe.Everybody wants something from you. And I felt- I thought you were different.” “I know I should have told you.” “I told him not to.” Rossi cuts in having heard most of the conversation from behind Spencer. “He was only following my orders.” Rossi pats Spencer's shoulder while leaving the room. “The last time I could really trust people was when I moved to Nashville.” Y/n says, all the while Spencer is decoding the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. “Nashville, you said you lived you Houston street? And you were on KZ fm in high school?..” “Yeah..?” When Y/n sees the way Spencer is intensely staring at the collage she also gets up, to stand next to him. “I need to take this thing about.” Spencer says while not looking away. “What?” “I’ll put it back. I think I see images of you. Guys!”

Y/n stands to the side with Derek while Spencer and Emily are putting the pieces together. “Y/n, it looks like someone has been stalking you for years.”

“Yeah, this tells your whole life story. Awards, Billboard charts, Albums.” 

“Everything since moving to Nashville.”

“Who gave you this collage?” Derek asked, leaning over the island counter. “Um- he did” Y/N says pointing at a picture on the collage. “Who is he?” “Uh- Parker Dunley, I don’t really know him, he just owns a gallery I go to sometimes.” 

Spencer gets off the phone quickly turning to Y/N. “Y/N, do you someone by the name of Veronica Hartley?” “Roni? Yeah, of course I know her. I’ve known her for years. She’s one of my assistants.” Their conversation gets cut off by Y/n’s phone ringing. “What is it?” Spencer asks, seeing the way her eyes widened when she read the caller ID.

“That’s her calling now.” 

“Is she calling from her cell phone?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Y/n, we think Roni’s the stalker.” 

“No- No way.” 

“Answer the phone. Act completely natural, the longer you keep her on the line the more likely we’ll be able to trace the call.. Trust me.” Spencer walks away to call the team, while Y/n answers Roni’s call.

“Hello?…Roni?...” Spencer turns to Y/N and gives her a signal to keep talking.

“Rons?... You’re tired?......I saw you today?.... I don’t know what you’re talking about.. I remember.. Roni, that was just one weekend…”

“Y/n” Spencer whisper yells, after getting off the phone with Penny, finding out Roni’s calling inside the house.

“How did she get inside?”

“She has keys.”

Spencer starts searching the house Y/n walking behind him. When they get up to a guest bedroom, Y/n feels the barrel of a gun being pressed to her skull, Spencer quickly turns around. 

“Put down the gun.” Roni demands. “Roni..” Spencer says while lowering his gun. “Don’t call me ‘Roni” you don’t know me! Come on, Y/n, let’s go. We have to go, baby. Come on.” Y/n looks in Spencer’s eyes begging him to do something. “Roni, don’t hurt her. You don’t need to hurt her.” “You don’t know anything. I would never hurt her. I created her" "No you didn’t.” “Yes, I did you stupid, ungrateful, little bitch.. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” “Roni, she.. She loves me now.” Roni moves her gun from pointing it at Y/n’s head to pointing it at Spencer. “She told me so. When we were in the pool. She kissed me. Now she loves me okay?” “No.” “Tell her we kissed in the pool.” “No!’ Roni yells this time switching from pointing her gun from Spencer to Y/n. Y/n looks at Spencer hopefully to tell her the next move, when he nods his head at her she says, “Yes, we kissed.” Roni then pushes Y/n, and Spencer tackles Roni to the ground, grabbing her gun, and pointing it at her. “Kill me! Please. Kill me! I’ll be so much happier!” But Spencer shakes his head, lowering the gun as he says, “No, we’re going to get you some help.” 

Y/n is standing in the station talking to her publicist, while news vans are lined up outside.

“I don’t want any media.” “Come on, Y/n” “No. No media.” “Okay, no media. Let me deal with these guys then.”

After Y/n’s publicist leaves, Spencer walks up to Y/n. “I wish we didn’t meet under these circumstances. More normal maybe.” “Y/n, believe me, no matter how we met, I’m glad we did.” Y/n feels her whole body, warm at that, she turns her head, knowing Spencer can see the blush on her face. They’re interrupted when Derek yells for Spencer. “Hey, Reid. Come on, we got to move.” “Well, um- here, take this.” Y/n passes Spencer a receipt she had written her new number on. “Would you- if it’s okay with you, give me a call.” “Yeah, I would love to.” Rossi comes walking over. “I hate to intrude, kid, but we’re waiting.” “Yeah- yeah a second.” “So- call me, I’ll be waiting.” Y/n turns to walk away, but Spencer puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Y/n turns towards Spencer, he puts his hand on her check, Y/n leaning into his palm, turning her head slightly to press a small kiss into his palm, before walking away.