#you will probably die of alcohol poisoning

[sscrambledmeggss]

K and M for the OC ask game?

AHH TY! :D These are ocs I made for a little story I had when I was like 11? (I wanted to make it into a webcomic 🦧) But I still love them dearly SO I will be talking about them <3

K: Kieran O’Sullivan

OKAYOKAY, so this bitch. He’s from fantasy Ireland 🤨 (which never got a name?? If it does I wrote it down in a sketchbook a long time ago) but basically his whole thing was that he’s been a servant to this guy Avon since childhood, but he hates him because he wants to be like an equal to him. And the only way he thinks he can do that is through death?? Anyways Avon runs away from home for reasons 🤨🤨 (this isn’t about him so he’s not being talked about <3) and he took Kieran with him. But Kieran hates him 🦧 the on going joke was that Avon would always almost die, and Kieran as his like servant bodyguard would just “🧍‍♂️” while watching him almost die?? 😭😭 anyways he was suppose to betray Avon at some point but then redeem himself. He was my little rat boy <3

M: I ACTUALLY HAVE TWO M OCS FROM THE SAME STORY SHEJD

Meiyu Admia

She was the mc from fantasy America 😍 (very creative ik) but basically her whole plot was that her parents were criminals (who she was told were dead, but they aren’t <3) and she wants to redeem her family’s name 😭😭 and so she over hears Avon and Kieran talking about this big quest they’re going on at like her uncles tavern?? And follows them with her best friend Carina. Her whole character was basically just her trying to be nice, but she like didn’t know how to be nice? Like she was quite apathetic and quick to anger. But was also the bubbly nice one 😭 girly was trying and that’s all that mattered <3

Mikai

This bitch was a furry 😍 JKJK. Basically like the power system was old books?? And so Mikai was from the island that made the old books, but he pissed someone off and got the whole island cursed with immortality so he just kinda wants to die 🦧 (which he does <3) he like looks 12 but is actually 800 or something 😭 the joke was that he claims to he all power so he like casted a spell on himself to turn him into a half cat? Like I remember I had this whole joke planned out that Kieran would ask him, “so like what are your powers” and Mikai would just start coughing up a hairball 🦧 i remember I based him a bit off Inuyasha and Sun Wokung 🤨🤨

I also forgot to mention that Mikai was the one who was like, “if anyone can break the curse I’ll give them fame and make them rich 🤪” anyways he was lying <3

[straight4joekeery]

Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(Part eight)

Prev. Part one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week went by slow. Without literally all of his friends he had nothing to do. It was sad and really lonely honestly. So Steve did what any reasonable lonely human would do: get a pet.

He couldn’t get a dog they were way too much work. He had a poodle growing up and it was the most annoying dog ever. He definitely didn’t want to deal with that again. He would get a fish, but they aren’t that entertaining. Reptiles were horrifying and he would easily lose a rodent. So that left him with one option.

On Tuesday he went shopping. He went to the local pet store and bought everything he needed, or rather the cat needed. He bought all of the basic necessities plus a gigantic cat tower, a few too many toys, a harness (because why not?), and a normal amount of cat outfits (only like 25). $200 dollars later the pet store said he’d be able to pick up the kitten on Thursday. The cat was only a month old and was currently named Archie. He knew he was going to change his name, but he didn’t know what to change it to. The cat was all black except for his white paws. Which yes black cats were are supposed to be unlucky, but considering what he’d been through, an unlucky cat was the least of his concerns.

That Wednesday was the longest day of his life. It felt even lonelier in his house. He eventually decided the best way to spend his day was painting random things in his house. Which was an extremely good Idea surprisingly. When he was on his 10th object it was 9 pm (and he’d happily go to bed at 9 pm). Those ten items included: two mugs, little doodles on his mirror, the cup he keeps his toothbrush in, a plant pot, the watering can, a mason jar, his hairspray can, a ring tray, and last but certainly not least a guitar pick. He wasn’t the best artist so most were just ombrés and splatters.

When he woke up the next morning he immediately got dressed and ready. He couldn’t stand one more second of being ‘Sad Sack Steve’. He ran straight out to his car… but immediately had to go back inside because he forgot his keys. But then he was actually on his way.

He finally made it to the store and oh. Oh my god that was the cutest kitten he’d ever seen. He quickly finished all the nonsense paperwork and went home with a cat in his passenger seat. That’s when it finally hit him that this was a living being, that he had to take care of. That was… weird. A lot of responsibility. And plus he was going up to Indy tomorrow. What was he going to do? He supposed he could talk to his neighbor Amy and ask her to check on him. Amy was weird (to put it in literally the nicest was possible) but it’s better than nothing.

When he pulled in his driveway he walked next door to Amy’s. Thankfully she agreed. He thanked her a thousand times then ran back to the house, cat in hand. The cat was loud. Like extremely loud. But that was a good thing. It wouldn’t be so quiet all the time. Just in that moment, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Steve! Are you okay?”

“Eds? Yeah I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Robin called you like twenty times and when she gave up she called me so I could call you because apparently ‘Steve is way more likely to pick up the phone to you’. Did she tell you she makes me call her each time I get to a new hotel just so she can have each hotels number?” The cat was now meowing like crazy.

“Uhhh no she didn’t. Do you know why she called?”

“She said she just wants to make sure you’re going to Indy tomorrow. Steve… what’s that noise?

“I have a hypothetical.”

“Okay…? What is it?”

“Say I got a little black kitten. What would be a good name for it?”

…

“Hypothetically though.”

“I mean I’d personally name it Ozzy, but I know you personally wouldn’t name-“

“That’s perfect! Hypothetically.”

“Sure. Well I can’t wait to see this hypothetical cat!”

“Yeah yeah. Okay I should call Robin. Bye Eddie.”

“Bye Stevie. Tell Ozzy I said hello.”

“Will do.” He misses him. He misses him a lot. Blah blah blah this is a spiel we’ve all heard one too many times.

He called Robin back and told her that he was going to be there tomorrow. And about Ozzy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ready for round two?” He called out the window.

“Of course!” Vickie yelled as they hopped in the car, “looking good again Harrington!”

“Why, thank you.” They drove back to the bar. They didn’t have a tape in so they just talked. Talked about everything and nothing. When they arrived Vickie pulled him aside.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry if this is weird, you don’t have to answer, but do you think you’re going to end up with Eddie?” She was right. That was weird.

“Uh honestly no. He’s not gay.” She frowned at that.

“Well I personally strongly disagree but if think that, why didn’t you dance with anyone last week?” Good question. He however didn’t know the answer to that.

“I don’t know Vick. I just felt like I had to,” why? Why did he think he had to, “maybe…maybe it was just in case he wasn’t. I didn’t want to chance not being able to be with him. Which I know is stupid because it will never happen.”

“Hey,” she placed he hand on his arm, “that’s not stupid. Again I do think you are wrong,” she sighed. How. How could she think that? What gave her a reason to? “But if you don’t think that, go have fun. Dance with people. Don’t waste you’re time chasing over someone who you believe you will never catch up to.” As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

“Okay. Let’s go. I promise I’ll let loose a bit.” She smiled and linked their arms as they walked inside.

“There you are!” Robin called, “i thought I was going to file two missing person reports!” They walked back to the same barstools they sat at last time and there he was. Trent. He didn’t remember exactly what he did to Steve. But he remembered that he hated him. No clue why. Might have just been angry drunk Steve for all he knew.

“Hey guys!” He smiled at them. Especially Steve. For a weird amount of time, “what can I get for you guys?” Robin was already drinking her Dirty Shirley. She was addicted to those things. She said ‘they are like Shirley Temples but better!’ He was not going to tell her that was the point.

“Can I just get a beer? I don’t really care what kind,” Vickie said. Didn’t peg her as the beer type, but hey! Never judge a book by its cover right?

“Yeah, me too.” Steve said.

“Alrighty! Give me one second!”

“Look,” Vickie said, “I love Trent but he uses the weirdest words sometimes.” Oh! That’s why he hated him last time.

“I noticed that! Last week he said ‘yikes’ like audibly and I almost gagged! I didn’t know people actually said that!” Steve exclaimed (but quietly so he wouldn’t hear).

Robbin giggled, “one time he said my outfit was ‘tubular’,” they all laughed and twisted their faces in mock disgust. Just then he came back.

“Here y’a go!” They said thank you but he didn’t move. He just stayed there. Oh well at least Steve has a piece of eye candy now. God he was hot, “so Steve, what do you do for work?” Yay! More small talk. He knew just the way to this man’s heart. He tried everything to not hate him again.

“I’m a teacher. Junior history,” why’d he elaborate? He surely didn’t care.

“That’s so cool! My favorite class of all time was my junior history. It’s the only class I ever understood. My teacher was the only nice one in the building too.” Woah. He did care. Weird.

“Cool…” cool? Really? That was lame. (LAME??? STEVE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.)

Trent smiled at Steve for a second to long for it to be ‘bro like’, “well let me now if you guys need anything!” And he walked away. He wasn’t sure how to feel about him.

“Wow Steve!” Robin applauded, “look at you go. He was totally into you!”

“Yeah I could tell.” He looked at Vickie and blinked as a cry for help. She just shrugged. Just then the first man of the night walked up to Steve.

“Hey! My names Adam, I was uh wondering if you wanted to dance maybe? My boyfriend… ex-boyfriend just cheated on me and left.” Yikes (REALLY???). He looked towards Vickie and she mouthed, ‘you promised’.

“Yeah. Sure.” Adams face lit up. He held out a hand and he took it.

Now in Robins exact words, ‘you’re dance moves could kill! And by kill I mean make someone want to shoot their eyes out’ which only offended him to the point he cried later that night. But it was fine. Everything was fine.

“Uh Adam?” He looked up at Steve with questioning eyes. Adam was cute. Like adorable cute not I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off cute. “I literally can’t dance. Like at all.”

He laughed, “me neither honestly. But if we hide in the crowd no one would ever see us!” He pulled Steve to the middle of Probably a good hundred people. He smiled. Like actually smiled. He liked this kid.

“How old are you Adam?” He immediately started blushing.

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Twenty-six”

“Cool. You like don’t have a boyfriend right?”

He snorted, “No, I’ve actually only officially dated one person, and that was about ten years ago.”

He laughed, “well that guy,” he nodded towards the door, “was my third. And obviously i have some special kind of charm because this same situation happened every. Single. Time.”

“Jeez. That really sucks. I’m sorry.”

He smiled, “nah it’s fine. Never actually liked that guy at least. He was just in a band that was popular at some point and died down,” he laughed, “if I’m being honest I thought I could use him for publicity. That did not turn out well though.” Huh. That’s strange.

He laughed, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just kinda coincidental. This one guy that I’ve literally been pinning over for years just left to go on tour.”

“No it’s fine! That is kinda weird. And that really does suck… I don’t think I got you’re name?”

“It’s Steve.”

“Well Steve I’m sorry about that. Does he like you back?” He was convinced neither of them were actually in to each other. But that was okay. He was a super nice kid. (He was literally only three years younger but he was still going to call him kid.)

“Well I am sure he doesn’t but all of my friends think otherwise. Plus I only realized I liked him when he left.”

“Well I know I’m a complete stranger and have no right to say this, but they are probably right. All of my friends told me to stay away Tony because he was no good. And here we are,” Steve didn’t know why he was so calm about this, “hey uh Steve i better get going but,” he took a pen out of his back pocket and wrote on Steve’s arm, “call me. We should hang out. You’re cool.”

“I will. Thanks.” He nodded and walked back to the girls. They were literally jumping up and down.

“How’d it gooo?” Vickie said grabbing his hands.

“Good! He was nice! And we’re going to hang out soon,” he said waving his arm. They gave each other a weird look.

“Hang out?” Robin asked looking very disappointed.

“Yeah. We didn’t click like that. But it’s fine. At least I have more than four friends in the area now!”

“Who’s the fourth?”

“Ozzy, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I had my time. Now it’s your turn, go. Go have fun! But not to much fun!” He called as they ran away. He took a swig of his beer that he’d left there.

“Young love strikes once again!” Trent called from behind him. This dude needed to stop sneaking up on him. But this time he smiled back at him. He just kept staring at him. Like a concerning amount. And he noticed, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Nothing it’s just..” screw it, “want to dance?” His face got even brighter than Adam’s

“I’d be honored. But I only have like five minutes because I do work here,” they grinned at each other. They made their way to the people again. He caught Vickie looking at him and giving him a thumbs up. He just rolled his eyes at her. “I got the impression last time that your weren’t too fond of me.”

“Sorry it’s just that I get really easily irritated when im drunk. But then I can just switch up and immediately become the giggly drunk that we all aspire to be.”

“I get it. My ex was like that. She was… interesting.” He thought it was so amazing how open people could be about their sexuality’s here. He also just now noticed that they were in fact not dancing but just standing there. Which he was not mad about because again: he could not dance. “I think you’re really neat Steve.” Neat?? Okay this dude was kind of, sort of, really really weird with his vocabulary. But as we established with Eddie: Steve liked weird. (He’s literally been with two dudes that have at least been a little interested, and he’s still Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Edd-)

“You too.” They just stood there looking at each other for a long time. Before Trent leaned in a bit. Woah. This is weird. What is happening.

“Stevie, can I?”

Did he hear him correctly? Did he just call him Stevie? It sounded oddly romantic. The word were ringing in his ears. Oddly. Romantic. But it couldn’t be. That’s all Eddie ever called him. He guesses pet names were meant to be flirty. But no. There’s no way. Eddie could not like him. (THERE IS A MAN IN FRONT OF YOU!! SNAP OHT OF IT!)

He realized he hadn’t responded for a while, “I’m so sorry,” he said. And ran off. He ran outside. He needed air. There was no way. Why was he even thinking this? Did Eddie like him back. He suddenly remembered the phone call from last week.

Okay, love you Eddie. Goodnight.

Goodnight Stevie.

How could he be so stupid? Why did he say that. But he didn’t freak out when he did. He didn’t say it back. But he didn’t say it was weird. And he called him that stupid name again. He thinks back over Vickie’s, Robin’s, and even Adam’a words. There was no way this was happening. Eddie might actually like him. Was he? Wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next

FINALLY. this is the dream I had. This was what this whole fic was based around. I just reread this and realized how choppy and weird the ending was but oh well. I didn’t know how else to make it work. I also didnt at all plan to add Ozzy. I zone out when I write and before I knew it boom he was there. Every steddie fic needs some sort of animal named Ozzy tho. Also I will never stop apologizing for how short these are. It’s actually not that short but still. I’ve been super unmotivated and tired. Really tired. I also would like to make it clear that I hate Trent. He did nothing wrong I just don’t like him. This is a hill I will die on. Oh well. Love Adam tho. Also one of the funniest things to me is whatever trope you think this is, you’re wrong 😈. Anywayyssss. Comment or reblog if you want to be tagged in future parts! And thanks for reading

This will be on AO3 soon I just need to find a time to do it. It will also be extended there most likely.

Tag list: @asbealthgn @queerbeansworld @bird-with-pencils @vecnuthy @artiststarme @captain-winter-wolf-aehs @piningapple @rowendyss @steve-themom-harrington @lfaewrites @azreadytodie @thequeenrainacorn @pastel-dreamscape @importanttimemachinenerd @jehneeg @swagaliciousmarie @mightbeasleep @krazyperson @milkshakeflower @fando-random @bumblebeecuttlefishes @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @fluffyreturns @scheodingers-muppet @wonderland-girl143-blog

[sapphroditewrites]

Bishova Poll Marathon! (9/10)

this was a hot debate on the bird app, i can't wait to see what y'all say here. (i did use some of the reasons ppl gave on twitter, just so the playing field is even)

masterpost

[previous poll] [next poll]

[puddingprinz]

drinking game: watch xo kitty and every time "everybody wants to rule the world" starts playing you take a shot

[rafeandonlyrafe]

under the influence

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, blowjob, dubcon, blackmail, mentions of forced sex, throwing up, drunk!reader

your head pounds as you stumble towards whatever light source is in front of you. your vision is glazed over, only amplified from how tired you are.

“y/n?” a voice calls out.

you open your mouth to respond but your feet trip over a crack on the sidewalk and you fall forward, barely catching yourself with your hands.

“ah, shit.” rafe groans, rushing over to check on you. he turns you over so your back is now against the pavement. “what happened to you?” “was at a party.” you manage to get out before turning your head and throwing up. rafe gathers your hair for you as you vomit onto the sidewalk. “got really drunk.” you say when you finish, spitting to get the taste out of your mouth.

“yeah, i can tell.” rafe scoffs. “want me to take you home?” “no-” you shake your head, looking up at rafe with tears in your eyes. “my parents would kill me if they found out.” your mind reels, tears suddenly falling which quickly turns into sobs.

“hey, hey, shh.” rafe tries to comfort you, his hand coming to rub over your shoulder. “shit, shut up. you can stay at tanneyhill.” “really?” you squeal, mood instantly turning around, a smile replacing your frown.

“yeah just… just get up, come on.” rafe helps you stand up, annoyed that you're ruining his plans for the night, but not wanting to leave you out here to fend for yourself. 

you know rafe mostly through your families, both being prominent members in the outer banks. you've grown up around each other, and while you’ve been kind of flirty in the past, in never progressed into anything.

rafe loops an arm around your waist, helping you walk towards his house. rafe had planned to walk to a party, probably the same one you're leaving from, before he came across you.

“are your parents home?” you ask, knowing that you'll have to sneak past them, as they will definitely tell your parents if they saw how obviously wasted you are. 

“no. it's just me at home. ward, rose and wheezie are gone for the weekend and sarah is who knows where.” rafe rolls his eyes at even having to mention his sister.

“probably john bs.” you comment, before throwing out a snide remark. “dirty pogue.”

it makes rafe smile, remembering that you harbor the same feelings towards the other side of the island that he does.

rafe leads you inside his house before having to basically drag you up the stairs. he leads you into a guest room before letting you flop down onto the couch.

“you know i had plans for tonight, and now i gotta stay here and make sure you don't die of alcohol poisoning.” rafe says, wanting to make sure you know how much of a pain in his ass you are being.

“im sorry.” you pout, and it stirs something in rafe, seeing you laying splayed out on the bed, sorrowful look on your face and big doe eyes looking up at him.

“you know, you could do something to make it up to me.” rafe offers.

“like-like what?” you ask, blinking up at rafe.

“suck me off.” rafe says, watching you process and then react to what he just said.

“but-but! we are friends rafe you don't want me to do that!”

“i wouldn't ask if i didn't want it.” rafe shrugs. “besides, i was definitely going to hookup with a girl tonight, so im settling with just a blowjob, unless you want me to fuck you too?”

“no, no.” you shake your head quickly. you think about leaving, about walking out of tanneyhill, but you're not sure your legs can carry you that far. “ill suck you off.”

“good girl.” rafe says, rubbing over his crotch as you reposition yourself, flipping to your stomach and moving yourself to the edge of the bed.

“you're gross for this, rafe.” you say, even as you swat his hand away and rub over his length through the layers of fabric.

“we can always stop and i can take you back to your parents. tell them what a naughty girl you've been, getting drunk then rubbing at my dick.”

“no, no.” you shake your head. “im gonna do it just give me a sec.” you unbutton rafes pants slowly before tugging the zipper down, trying to force your mind to sober up as he tugs his pants down, taking the underwear down at the same time, revealing his half hard cock.

“oh my god, you’re so big.” the words slip out of your mouth before you can help it, making rafe chuckle.

you cautiously reach for his cock, wrapping your hand around the base and slowly beginning to stroke up and down, waiting for him to fully harden before you even attempt to put it in your mouth.

“come on, y/n.” rafe encourages you, stepping closer and pressing his thighs into the edge of the bed. you open your mouth and cautiously take a lick over the head of his cock, eyes sliding shut when you realize how good he tastes on your tongue.

you quickly take more of him, mouth swallowing his cock as you bob your head. rafe moans, tangling his fingers in your hair as you work on his cock, all apprehension gone the second you actually felt him.

“fuck, if this is how good you are drunk, i can’t imagine you sober.” rafe groans. he never really thought about you in a sexual way before, always just a background character in his life that he’d joke around and flirt with, but it was never serious until now.

“yeah?” you smirk as you pull off, taking a deep breath, your hand immediately beginning to stroke him to make up for it. 

“we’ll see if you even remember this.” rafe laughs, tugging on your hair, forcing you to retake him in your mouth. you choke slightly before regaining composure, sucking his cock deep into your mouth, managing to go all the way down and pressing your nose into his skin. you credit the alcohol flowing through your veins as the reason for your gag reflex not playing up, along with the confidence you have managed to muster up.

“are you sure i can’t fuck you?” rafe asks.

you shake your head no while still swallowing around his cock. you know you’ll wake up and regret this, but the regret is a million times better than the punishment you would face from your parents.

“maybe in the morning.” rafe grunts, hands tightening on your hair as he begins to snap his hips forward, keeping your mouth in place, not caring that drool is dripping down your chin and that your hands are fisted on the comforter, gripping it so tightly that you can feel your nails digging in to your palm through the fabric.

“so good, baby. keep sucking.” rafe commands, knowing he isn’t going to last much longer.

rafe lets out a groan and you feel him swell inside of your mouth before releasing, cumming straight down your throat, his hands keeping you pushed down on his dick, even when you try to pull away and take a breath.

rafe makes sure you stay on him for his entire high, throat constricting around his dick until he pushes your head away, cock flopping out.

you cough, wiping at your mouth. “i can’t believe you made me do that.”

“aye, chill out, y/n. you were certainly acting like you enjoyed it.” rafe laughs, tapping your cheek as you recoil. rafe tucks his cock back into his pants, redoing the button.

“yeah, whatever.” you roll onto your back, moving so your head is back over the pillow. your eyes close, 

“scooch over.” rafe commands, making you furrow your brow and look at him.

“what for?”

“i like this side of the bed.” he explains.

“you’re not sleeping in the same bed as me, fuck off.” you wave your hand.

“nah, you’re too drunk. gotta make sure you don’t puke all over the sheets.” rafe explains, hand coming to your hip, pushing so you have no choice but to roll to the other side of the bed.

“too drunk to sleep alone but not too drunk for me to suck your dick.” you roll your eyes. “make it make sense.” “hey.” rafe glares at you. “don’t make me wake you up with my cock inside you. shut it.”

he reaches over and shuts off the light, casting the room into darkness. you let out a sigh to show your disapproval of the situation but don’t say anything more as the silence stretches out a few minutes. “rafe?”

“what?” 

“can you hold me?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[villainousauthor]

Would you plss write something where a villain and hero realize they're soulmates? Thank you<333

Hero grunted in pain as they clutched their abdomen and tried to catch their breath. Their head swam, and their vision blurred as they attempted to gain their bearings. One second, they were in a massive fight against several villains. The next, they found themselves being pushed back through a portal. Supervillain was likely to blame for that, with his ability to warp people anywhere in the world.

Hopefully, their communicator wasn't broken in battle, so they'll be able to send their location to their team. If they could even find it.

They try to stand, and immediately, their vision starts to darken around the edges and their head throbs. With a hiss they fall back to the ground.

"Careful, you probably have a concussion."

Hero cranes their neck to see Villain a few feet away, remarkably less injured and approaching. They don't have any weapons drawn, but still, hero feels their heart lurch.

They open their mouth, trying to speak. "I didn't see you go through the portal.. " Even their voice is laced with pain.

Villain is closer now and stops a few feet away, kneeling so they're at eye level. They seem to be assessing Hero's current state. Probably to see if they can easily finish them off, Hero assumes.

"I came in after you." Villain says nonchalantly, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. They eye the blood currently dripping down Hero's head, and the large gash in their arm.

Hero snort, and their chests aches in protest. "Why, to finish the job? Make sure I don't come back?"

Standing up and getting closer, Villain rolls their eyes.

"No, idiot. One day, if you die, it's not going to be at Supervillain's hands. Or because you bled out in-" Villain looks around at the tall trees, the lack of buildings or signs of civilization. "- the middle of the...pacific northwest? I don't even know where we are." They finish, unsure.

Hero tries to sit up as Villain kneels down again, closer this time. "I don't know either. I lost all my tech, I don't even have a way of contacting my team."

"Lucky for you, my stuff faired much better." Villain says smugly, and Hero wishes they could knock the look off their face. "I'll send my location to my henchmen, and they'll come to get us."

Villain reaches out for their arm, and Hero immediately finds themselves flinching away. Villain's lips press into a thin line.

"I'm not going to kill you, like I said. Unless you want to bleed out before someone arrives, you should let me treat your wounds." Villain's voice is firm as they pull a small first aid kid off their utility belt.

"I'm not going to bled out, it's not that bad." Hero tries to keep a defiant edge to their voice. For all they know, Villain will kill them, probably inject them with some poison or something just to make it easy.

"How bad did you hit your head? Are you blind suddenly? Because it looks pretty damn bad." Villain opens the small kit, showing Hero the contents. "Look, normal first aid crap." Their brows are furrowed, frustrated by Hero's reluctance.

Finally, after several tense seconds, Hero relents. They nod and slump their shoulders, as Villain moves closer now.

"The amount of trust issues you have is ridiculous..." They grumble under their breath as they slowly pull the damaged and blood-soaked sleeve of Hero's uniform back. They get a good look at the deep and long cut. Their frown deepens.

Pulling off their dirty gloves, Villain speaks again as they reach for something else.

"I'm going to have to clean this before I dress it. You might need sutures, though." Grabbing alcohol wipes, they use one hand to hold Hero's arm steady, grabbing their forearm.

Hero immediately hisses and jumps back, wrenching their arm from Villain's grasp.

"Jesus christ! Cleaning it shouldn't hurt that much!" Hero exclaims, even more tense. "What did you do, burn me?" They demand, but then they see Villain's expression. Their eyes are focused on Hero's arm, and their face looks cloudy and unreadable. They don't respond to what Hero said, like they didn't register it.

Hero looks down at their arm, and their eyes widen when they see it. Right on their arm, below the wound is a handprint. A completely different shade than Hero's skin tone, it stands out. A soulmark. Right where Villain grabbed them.

"Oh..." Is all Hero can manage to say in this moment. Villain seems to snap out of their trance and reaches for Hero's arm quickly, wrapping their hand back around where the mark is. It fits perfectly.

"This is...this really...this wasn't here before, right?" Villain asks, even though they saw Hero's completely blank and markless skin moments before. They unknowingly tighten their hold, and Hero yelps, their arm still in pain.

Pulling their hand back like they were burned, Villain finally meets Hero's eyes. "You're..." Villain trails off, shaking their head. They look away, palm to their forehead like they're trying to process this.

Hero feels like the forest floor will open up any minute and swallow them whole. If it weren't for their probable concussion, they're sure they would be taking this a lot harder. It feels like there's a charge around them now, an electrical current, live and dangerous between them.

Finally, Villain swallows and talks. "Let me just...let me just treat your wounds, and we can talk about this later." They manage.

Hero just nods as Villain returns to their first aid kit, ignoring the spark and air of tension now between them.

[nomazee]

keep my blankets warm and my name in your mouth

after a night of soaring through belobog's liquor, you finally face the consequences of it on the floor of your hotel room. thankfully, dan heng has experience with taking care of idiots (i.e. you)

dan heng x gn reader — drunkenness, sweet and sappy and sarcastic, dan heng is probably ooc, reader is trailblazer but this is set vaguely in canon & lore doesn't matter, stupid people who love each other but never say it, are they dating or are they toeing the line of cohabitation in the middle of a hotel room?

sequel here

notes: oh gawsh hey guys... yeah yeah it's been forever since i posted but i giggled at all the requests i miss and then instead of doing those i wrote this, but TRUST i am getting back to all of you in a timely manner i love you all thank you so much for sticking with me, i'm coming out with a follower event once i hit 1k (soon) so be excited! love you guys and enjoy

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

Dan Heng is an awful caretaker, really, and you should’ve known this because of his deadpan and often awkward nature. It just never really occurred to you until he’s truly saddled with taking care of a living, breathing thing—i.e., you, drunk and vomiting into a trash can after a spree through Belobog’s bars. 

In your defense, having no memories means having no experiences to your name (other than everything you’ve been through on the Express so far, which is maybe more near-death experiences than you’d like to have), and you heard that being drunk was just something everybody experiences at least once. 

Then, Pela texted you that one time asking for quick tips to sober up, and it dawned on you that you don't even know what that feels like, and then—who cares, really, you don’t have half a mind to think of your tragic pre-drunk backstory when you’re trying not to die of embarrassment as Dan Heng maneuvers you in a way that won’t get vomit on your clothes. 

The cold tiles of the Goethe Hotel en suite bathroom aren’t enough to bring you to full awareness, so you let Dan Heng ragdoll you into kneeling over the trash can and pull any dangling accessories away from your, um, line of fire. 

“Why would you guys let me do this?!” you wail in disbelief, trying to hold back a mouthful of bile but ultimately failing as you cough into the bin again. You’re truly betrayed at the thought that your closest friends wouldn’t warn you of things like alcohol poisoning, and pacing yourself, and how many drinks is too many drinks. 

“I didn't let you do anything,” your friend retorts, because he’s evil and mean and awful at comforting you, “I told you it would be a bad idea. You’re the one that still went out.” 

“Did I puke in front of everyone?” 

Dan Heng pauses, which is always a bad sign. It means he’s thinking, really thinking about what to say. “At the very least, you puked in the snow and not inside the restaurant.” 

A desperate wailing noise escapes you yet again. Life is cruel, and Dan Heng is crueler. He should’ve told a sweet little white lie and you would’ve been none the wiser and a lot less mortified. “Himeko laughed so hard when we found you that Welt had to make her leave.” 

“Just kill me,” you whisper into the trash can, full of your hopes and dreams and the remnants of your dinner and drinks. “I can’t go back to the Express. Execute me and give me a gentle death.” 

“No need to be dramatic,” he says, annunciating his words in that odd little way he does, and it makes you want to kiss him and read a dictionary to you, cover to cover. “You need to drink water, and then brush your teeth. I don’t trust you showering right now so you have to wait until the morning.” 

“Oh, Dan Heng,” you keen, with the grief of a spouse watching their partner go off to war, “you don’t even want to wash my hair for me?! You just think I’m— I’m a drunken slob!” 

“Be quiet,” he commands through his teeth, embarrassment warming him up—you can feel it, the way the tips of his fingers go a little bit warm from where they rest on your shoulder and the side of your face. “You— I don’t think that. You need to brush your teeth.” 

You definitely are not brushing your teeth tonight. You tell Dan Heng as much but he just rolls his eyes and compromises with a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash that he pulls from the cabinet under the sink. He’s so prepared. Or maybe that’s just the hotel staff. Regardless. 

You rinse your mouth out once you’re fine enough to let Dan Heng pull you up to your feet and rest you against the counter of the sink. He has to remind you multiple times to not swallow the mouthwash, and you bat at him childishly for thinking you’d ever do such a thing—except, you definitely would have drinken down an entire mouthful if he didn't say anything. You can’t bear to look at your reflection in the mirror. You just pray to whatever Aeon is listening that there’s no awful stains on your clothes, and that you don’t smell so terrible that Dan Heng goes running the minute he lets go of your arm. 

“Where’s March?” you whine out as he leads you from the bathroom to the main hotel room, trying to gently set you down on your bed but giving up once you immediately fall into it like an ungraceful rock. “She would be so much nicer. You’re mean. Do I smell bad?” 

“I’m not mean,” he tells you, sure of himself and the twist of his mouth as he avoids looking you right in the eyes. “You don’t smell. You need to go to bed. And lay on your side.” Petulantly, and not without some kicks of your legs and flails of your arms, you find yourself situated under the sheets of the hotel bed, sock somehow off your feet now as Dan Heng pulls the blankets right up to your shoulders. 

“I’m on my side now. Do I get a reward?”

“Why would you need a reward?” 

A disgruntled tsk escapes you and you look up at Dan Heng with an exasperated expression. It’s pitiful enough to guilt him into kneeling down beside your bed so that he’s at eye level with you. “Because I went through so much tonight,” you slur out, words starting to mix with each other as a result of your remaining drunkenness and the exhaustion of the night hitting you. “I’ll take a, um— a gold star, or something.” 

“I can give you a cup of water in the morning.” 

Another dreadful wail escapes you. You’ve never faced evil more potent than Dan Heng, and by the stupid twinge of a smile on his face, he knows what he’s doing. You hate how endearing he is, and how he dangles little treasures like this in front of you. You’re brought back to the heat of his fingers from earlier, the gentle touches he left on your shoulders as he let you puke your guts out without even flinching. As much as you joke, you know Dan Heng’s kindness comes from a lack of evil. Comes from a supporting weight against your arms, comes from travel-size mouthwash, comes from staying in your hotel room until you fall asleep and double-checking that you’re on your side. 

In the morning, you’ll take the cup of water, and you’ll take him out for breakfast, too.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier

"The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy." - Jack Kerouac

Summary In July of 2023, Evie looked at a list of cities in North America and rolled a die. Just like that, she packed up her life and moved to Chicago, a fresh start. The 2023-24 NHL season started well for Tito; he did not expect the call on November 28th telling him that he was being traded. To the worst team in the league. And just like that. 10 months after being ripped from his home, he had to pack up and move again. To an unfamiliar city, and to unfamiliar faces. Which is why, when Tito and Evie ran into each other, quite literally, on Christmas morning, they both latched on to a familiar face. Over the next few months, they became close friends. They didn’t talk about the nights shared in Chicago clubs.  They didn’t need to. Because they're just friends.  Right?

This is a completed fic split into episodes for easier reading. It was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston.

Episode 1. Blue Christmas (4.9k) Episode 2. I. Winter (4.4k) Episode 3. Pal-entine's Day (4.8k) Episode 4. Four-leaf Clover (5.5k) Episode 5. Evie's Birthday 🌶️ (5.6k) Episode 6. II. Spring (4.8k) Episode 7. Not Goodbye 🌶️🌶️ (5.4k) Episode 8. III. Summer (4.8k) Episode 9. Tito's Birthday (4.2k)

Read it in full (44.5k)

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Under the cut: author's notes, tropes, warnings & disclaimer, fun tidbits, chapter summaries

Author's Notes: This fic was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston. It got so out of control long so quickly. I genuinely had so much fun writing this, it's basically my magnum opus; if you look closely, I think you can probably see my soul in there somewhere. I would like to thank @devilssacrament, @wyattjohnston, and @forgottenflowers for being my editors, holding my hand and keeping me sane in this. Also, thanks to @swissboyhisch, and @imperatorrrrr for being a sounding board for ideas . All of your help and support has meant so much to me. You are all just the fucking best, I am sorry this has been my entire personality for the past month, I will probably return to normal soon. Probably...

Tropes: a gut-wrenching mix of angst and fluff with a happy ending, slow burn friends to lover (tbh, idiots to lovers let's be real), alternating POVs

Warnings: alcohol (one instance of alcohol poisoning by side character), mature content bordering on smut (mostly occurring in clubs/public), references to a toxic past relationship. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team based there. Only other Chicago players mentioned by name are: Nick Foligno, Jason Dickinson and Connor Bedard. Other notes: NHL players featured Mat Barzal (a heavily featured supporting character/bestie) and brief mentions of Zach Hyman and Matt Martin. Assume that Tito and Evie are always speaking in French with each other.

Face claim for Evie (if you want one, but you can imagine whoever you like): Adeline Rudolph

Fun Tidbits: Original Character (she/her) called Genevieve Gignac or Evie (pronounced eh-vee) is the oldest sibling of Tito's juniors teammate and friend Brandon Gignac. Along with their other sibling Wiliam, they grew up in Montreal. Evie had been living in Toronto for six years, before moving to Chicago in the summer before the fic starts. I did way too much research so a lot of the little facts are true. Nicknames: (ma) chouette (shoo-wet): owl (mon) chou/chouchou (shoo): in practice, honey, sugar, baby, sweetheart // by definition, my cabbage or my profiterole/cream puff (depends who you ask) Solours (soul-oars): the Québécois name for the yellow Care Bear with the smiling sun on its belly Solou’ (soul-oo): a diminutive Evie decides to use

Cook, Cook, drink your tea, But save some in the pot for me. We'll watch the tea leaves in our cup When our drink is all sipped up. Happiness or fortune great, What will our future be? -- "Afternoon Tea at Pittock Mansion" by R.Z. Berry

Episode Synopses:

Blue Christmas Evie and Tito are both starting life anew in Chicago. It's an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar faces. They're both alone on Christmas. Maybe it's fate that brings them together. Jason and Alandra Dickinson are already smelling smoke from this fire.

I. Winter Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

Pal-entine’s Day Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

Four-leaf Clover Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

Evie’s Birthday Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept. 

II. Spring Tito tries to tell her— he does— It’s just he needs to find the right time, and something keeps coming up. Evie’s honest with herself. But does that even matter? Mat decides maybe it is his time to intervene.

Not Goodbye Evie realizes that her time is running out. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she has one last night to find out. That is until— Well. It’s too late now. Tito flies home and wonders if that will be the worst mistake of his life.

III. Summer They try to get on with their summers as if nothing is wrong, convincing no one. How long will it take them to realize they can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine? And who will finally take the leap of faith?

Tito’s Birthday Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

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[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.22

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

If you thought it was suffocating to be the center of a room of attention it was ten times worse being the center of Natasha Romanoff’s attention. And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away from hers. Why was she looking at you? 

You feel more than see the glares all the men send your way as she saunters over to you and leans on the bar in front of you. The proximity- Gods you were going to pass out for real this time. Would she catch you? She had quick enough reflexes for it.

There’s a scent that floods your senses that must be hers and it makes your head spin for the second time that night. You’d only gotten here twenty minutes ago. 

You should say something. Anything would be nice instead of you staring at her like a starstruck child. Come on Y/n-

“Why do they have you back here making the drinks?” Did that sound like an insult? Oh god it did, didn’t it? You were dead. You accidentally insulted The Black Widow and now you would get flipped over a table and no one would bat an eye. At least you got to die after meeting her. Goodbye, world.

You slowly exhale and subconsciously lean away from her as you stare at the ceiling. Hypnotic eye contact is sufficiently broken as your heart pounds a million beats per minute. Maybe this was how she killed you. Just by looking at you.

To your surprise, there’s a playful smirk on her face when you finally muster enough courage to look back at her. Something in you skips a beat. 

“Maybe it’s because I’m good at it” Her eyes track your face before she stands up straight and turns around, grabbing two bottles from behind her once again. You watch as she expertly moves through the motions of making a drink. It’s different from the one she made herself, this one has some type of syrup and fresh fruit shaken into it. When she’s done she pulls a glass from under the bar and pours the drink effortlessly into it, adding a little umbrella that you take a little too much delight in receiving. 

She crosses her arms, once again letting her body lean against the cool material of the bartop.

You don’t hesitate to pick up the drink. You’d probably drink poison if she gave it to you. As you take a sip she adamantly watches your reaction. This whole interaction feels strangely intimate and you have to wonder if this is how everyone feels when they meet her. The rest of the party was long gone from your mind.

The flavors from the drink danced on your tongue and you were pleasantly surprised at how little alcohol you could taste. You were a little scared after seeing the labels on the bottles she’d used for her own drink but this was genuinely delicious. 

Before you can tell her it’s good another man calls out to her. Her attention is sufficiently pulled away from you as she goes to give the man and his two girl friends beers. You sip your drink as you watch them interact but you feel your heart tighten when you see her giving a similar flirtatious look to the two women.

Ah. you understand now. She was just doing her job keeping the guests entertained. Stark parties had a high reputation, after all, they couldn’t have you leaving feeling unsatisfied with your visit. You carefully observed the way Natasha watched their body language, their eyes. Reading what made them react most. The same way she’d done to you. It was all an act.

You want to feel hurt but realistically what were you expecting? That Natasha would choose you? She was here talking to you and everyone else out of obligation not because she wanted to. You turn around and look for your friend, spotting her laughing as she sips a flute of champagne they were passing around on trays. You should’ve just grabbed one of those. Even if it didn’t taste as good as your drink. Hand-made for you. By Natasha Romanoff.

When you turn back around you almost jump out of your skin at the sight of said woman right in front of you. She seems proud that she spooked you and her little self-satisfied smirk painted with deep red lipstick is hard to look away from.

“So?” The raspy sound of her voice is a familiar sound from all of the interviews you used to watch of her. You tilt your head as you try to comprehend what she meant ‘So….what?’

“Am I good at it?” Realization dawns on you as you process the fact that she was referring to your earlier conversation

‘Why do they have you back here?’

‘Maybe it’s because I’m good at it’

Your first urge is to tease her, as it is with everyone you meet. You want to scrunch up your nose and tell her she should stick to fighting crime and then let a playful smile overtake your face but if you’re honest you’re a little too intimidated to even attempt such a joke.

Instead, you nod your head. Your spirits were a little deflated but that wasn’t going to stop you from having fun and meeting your literal hero. 

“Any chance you’ll give me the recipe?” Something about knowing her flirtation was just an act made you a little bolder as you attempted your own flirtatious approach.

Her eyes fill with a challenging light and you can’t help but think it’s the same look she gives her sparring partners. You suppose their fates ended up a little more bruised than yours was going to “I suppose I could be persuaded” 

Oh, so you were really doing this. Okay.

“Are you like this with every girl you meet?” You take the liberty to lean forward an inch, tilting your head and adapting the same look in your eyes. Even if it wasn’t authentic, flirting with Natasha was more fun and exciting than anything else going on at this party.

Laying it on thick, she leans in so she’s only a few inches away from your face. “Only the pretty ones” If the proximity didn’t already have you blushing her words certainly did. You could probably chalk it up to the alcohol but you both know that would be a lie.

“How Suave of you, Miss Romanoff” She waves you off

“Natasha is fine” You're more than willing to accept her permission to use her first name “and you are?” 

“Y/n. Y/n, Y/l/n.” You offer her a smile but she stills. In a way you’ve never seen a super spy freeze before. (Not that you’ve been in the company of many but movies are a great source)

Something in her eyes changes when she looks at you. Her eyes drink in your face once again but there’s something different about it this time. It’s slower, her gaze lingers as it traces and drags through your features. What was with this reaction? Maybe you had the same name as an ex of hers…

When her eyes meet yours again it’s like she’s seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you, not just giving you sultry looks for fun or obligation. Natasha Romanoff was looking at you like you meant something to her.

Your phone dings with a notification and you look down to see your friend messaging you to come join her. You glance over your shoulder to see her smiling at you and waving you over. There’s a group of people around her that she probably wants to introduce you to and you’d probably spent far too much time at the bar anyway. But…

As you stand to leave Natasha takes you in once more and you blush. You can’t help but wonder what she was thinking. She’d served you a drink and kept you entertained, surely her duties with you were done right? 

Why did her eyes hold so much weight to them now? 

Why was she looking at you like that?

~~

Nat didn’t believe in coincidences.

Conspiracies and coincidences and everything of the sort were things she tried her best to steer clear from. The stuff that followed usually resulted in bad news.

But if you were the same Y/n. Her Y/n. Then-

She hastily reaches out and grabs onto your arm, she’s sure you’ve turned to look at her in shock or confusion but her gaze is fixated on your wrist. The same bracelet from the photo sitting prettily on your soft skin. Skin that’s warm against her cold hands. She watches as a shiver travels down your spine. 

Her eyes travel back up your neck to your pearl earrings. There were probably thousands of pairs of pearl earrings in the world- real and fake. But those were yours, she could recognize them. If anyone could, it would be her.

God, she thought you were beautiful before- flirting for a little bit of fun at this boring party, but knowing it was you-

All those nights hovering over your profile on her computer and using every ounce of self-restraint not to click on the file labeled ‘pictures’ 

All this time she was missing out on every aspect of you. Your captivating curious eyes, the delicate fall of your hair, your soft honeyed lips.

How could she have not recognized your voice sooner? She’d been listening to her recording of your phone call on repeat for days.

Her eyes met yours again and she felt speechless for the first time. And she battled real live aliens three years ago. She’s been through some shit. 

She heard your name get called in the distance, your gaze tore away from hers to find the source of the voice.

A woman around your age is calling you over and you’re getting ready to go over and join her. But how could she let you go when she knows it’s you? All this time. You. She couldn’t wrap her head around what she was seeing. This had to be a dream. 

When your eyes land back on hers they’re filled with an unspoken apology and she panics as she realizes you were about to walk away.

She wants to tell you “It’s me, the Nat you’ve been talking to”, wants to hear her name form on your lips and roll off of your tongue in your soft voice again and again but she doesn’t want to scare you away. 

Not now- she tells herself. 

“Find me later?” it comes out softer than she intended but your lips quirk up in a surprised smile anyway and you nod as your wrist slips from her grasp. 

She watches you walk away and turns back to the bar, a genuine smile slipping from her lips. She could still feel the warmth of your hand against hers, there were so many features about you that she’d gotten wrong when she spent her nights picturing you in her mind. 

You were more beautiful than she could’ve imagined. 

For good measure, she sends you a text and watches you smile as your phone lights up. As soon as you finish typing her phone pings with the all too familiar notification sound. 

    Y/n🍦:

Nat🔪: 

How's the party?

Y/n🍦:

You have no idea!

Nat watches the way you smile at your phone as you text her. Your friend gives you a knowing look and you playfully nudge her.

Returning to her task of making drinks, her eyes scan the room for you every so often to watch the way you smile at guests and the way you grip your friend's arm every time you laugh at something. 

She shakes her head, chuckling, she was going to have to reread every text you sent now that she knows your voice, the way your laugh sounds, the way your eyes light up.

There was no way she was going to be able to keep herself from calling you now. And if you recognized her voice over the phone well- that wouldn’t be so bad anymore.

Pt23

A/n: I hope you guys liked their first encounter! Unfortunately the chances of Y/n recognizing Nat next chapter are pretty slim as there's still more to this story I want to add so please don't yell at me! Love you guys<3 ~Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162

[bees-with-swords]

So you're a celebrity who moved to Tumblr. Do you have what it takes to survive?

Twitter is a fine planet. But now, trampled by Musk and with citizens panicking, you've decided to take a vacation to the little wilderness of Tumblr. That sounds lovely. I bet it's cottagecore.

Wrong.

Tumblr is a jungle planet. The eco system is finely tuned, full of poison and predators and bugs with HUGE asses. Anyone who walks in unprepared will be eaten alive. You smell like another planet. You don't know the rules of this place. So how do you survive?

Run your own blog.

Tumblr can sense marketing teams like a shark can sense blood. You are a person, not the @montereybayaquarium. Someone else writing your content is a death sentence.

Be cringe.

Tumblr is comprised of cringe based life forms. Being on Tumblr is in itself an act of cringe. Cringe may be considered a biohazard on Twitter but here it is the basis of all content.

Irony is enjoyed in moderation.

This should be a rule everywhere, but it applies more on Tumblr. Irony is like alcohol: fun to use but poisonous in excess.

There is no algorithm to help you.

You don't have a little GPS to feed you the location of good content. Strike out and find it on your own. Luckily, if you're famous, @staff will probably help you out. They have a hut in the jungle filled with sample specimens.

The lack of algorithm also means that you won't get much free attention without being interesting. Tags broadcast everyone's posts the same amount. Random wacky memes are as dense as foliage, they won't make you stand out. Neil Gaiman lives on a mountain and spends his mornings discussing his work seriously, feeding the birds. What can you offer the ecosystem?

This is a place where you die.

Do NOT censor your language. The algorithm isn't going to punish you for saying "dead." Talk like a human being.

Keep your head down

Focus on your own stuff, reblog some stuff. Hubris is punished swiftly. You are not the most important beast in the jungle.

(The most important beast in the jungle is @straycatj. Follow him but do not interact with him. Every organism on this planet will burn you to the ground if you touch a hair on his head.)

Listen to the ecologists.

@strange-aeons has been documenting the ecology of this place on YouTube for years. Since the "search" function is nonfunctional, posts come and go. Geography shifts when you look away. Documentation is difficult. If you don't understand a meme, research content from the experts.

The novelty of a celebrity asking the public about a Tumblr meme may work to your advantage. However, most other celebrities on this platform prefer to avoid all memes. It is easy to get lost when exploring the shifting landscape.

We don't want you here.

Are you sure you're up to this? You're going to have to prove yourself. You're probably not ready.

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |VII| pirate!Eddie au

a/n - ok, so first of all, i cannot thank everyone enough for the support on this fic. i am just in awe at the love its been getting recently. so i think it times out perfectly that this chapter is the one i have been the most excited to write and had been waiting to write since probably chapter 3 or something. I really hope you like it. Be sure to reblog and/or comment (and remember asks are also always welcome!)💗

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.4k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 7: Four Corners of Heaven

“The heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths it has its pearls too."

- Vincent van Gogh

The ship swayed from side to side, taking you along with it, stumbling from one leg onto the other as you struggled to find your balance. Wardrobe doors flung open, banging against their hinges. Papers flew all over the ground as the desk shifted from its secured position.

A banging noise sank deep into you, pulling you back to the Red Tail. The panic lasted until you realised you heard waves crashing against the window. How tall would they have to be to reach the glass? How strong to be able to open the hinges? 

It smashed against the wall, nearly cracking, but the damage was still done as water spilt inside with vicious attacks. Cursing, you made your way over, trying to close it before the entire floor would be under water. The spurts hit you in your face, shoving it down your throat. The icy feeling froze your skin as the heavy salt taste burned your tongue. By the time you closed the window, you had been drenched. You heaved for air, bend over with your arms on your knees. 

There was shouting outside the room. Incoherent behind the wood and rain layers, but the sense of emergency remained. 

You let yourself fall to the ground, back against the wall. All the commotion was now accompanied by your heartbeat drumming in your ears. When you calmed down, you realised you had still been holding the letter, scrunched into a wet roll between your fist, the water dripping off it came down in dark grey tears. Quickly, you dropped it into one of the desk's drawers and shut it. 

The ship also began to halt its tilt, regaining its composure, and so slowly, your anxiety faded. It allowed you to think; look around. Two longswords were hanging up on the wall, so you grabbed one and did your best to block the mechanics that opened the window. It should hold the water for some time, but you could only hope. You ignored the metal's clanking sound against the glass as the force pushed against it. 

As more shouting erupted from outside, the smaller the room felt. Suddenly you were back on the Red Tail, under the desk, hiding from these men. That was how it had all started, wasn’t it? They hid you away to keep you safe… and yet. The walls closed in on you. The water seemed to rise, but only in your mind, drowning in helplessness. 

If something did happen to this ship, you thought you would die either way, and you might not know many things, but one thing was certain: you would not die in Munson’s cabin.  

When you walked out of the room the past days, you were greeted with plush warm air, as if you had fallen gently atop a pillow. Now, it was more like a hard fall. The wind slapped your entire body, and the harsh rain cut at your cheeks. Each step felt as if you had been anchored to the ground. 

All around you was chaos. Water was everywhere. Rain poured harshly, a million icy bullets coming down your skin, soaking through your clothes. The waves reached a height as you had never seen, coming in closer by the second, threatening to spill over the railings. Some already did, drowning the wooden panelling of the deck, leaving nothing untouched as barrels rolled around. Crew members ran behind them, with meters of ropes, hoping to steady the load, but it was in poor attempts when their feet could barely remain steady. Munson threw around commands, but in these circumstances, his beloved ship had a mind of her own, and it was protesting her captain. 

The rest, in the meantime, did their best to keep up with what the captain had to say. Pulling the sails, ensuring a hold on all the loose cargo on the deck from slipping away. With buckets, they threw out water that splashed onto the ship, but with each wave, the amount only doubled. The men stumbled over themselves, knocking eachother over as the boat swayed immensely. 

You heard your name being called from the side and saw Harrington at the helm. Seeing him in the rain, you could not help but think of a dog. How the animals shrink in size when met with water, shaking and whimpering, just wanting to escape the cold. All of them, in fact, everyone around you, reminded you of it. They were all simply fighting for their life against the elements. 

Harrington looked at you sternly, and you could tell what he was saying with his expression alone. Go inside. But you stared blankly back, with no intention of listening.

That is when the wind picked up, pushing the ship off course. The helm began spinning in circles, and Harrington held onto its spurs for dear life, turning it back with all his remaining power. You could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. His grip kept slipping. He cursed loudly, but there was no one there to help. No one except you. It took you one quick glance to realise it, and once that occurred, you immediately stepped up to him and pulled at the spurs.

Harrington looked taken aback, for a second forgetting the task at hand, and that one second had been enough for him to fall back a few steps and the helm to begin to unfold again, resulting in another loud curse.

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Helping you!’ you called out; both of you were sputtering as the water of both sea and sky engulfed you. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He yelled out moments before another wave hit the vessel's side, and he got knocked off his feet. For a brief moment, until he had regained his stance, you were the only one holding the helm. The weight of the entire ship fell upon you for those brief seconds, which was overwhelming. It was too much, too heavy. You couldn’t carry on on your own. 

Harrington coughed out as he regained a grip on the wheel. He glanced at you with another expression of displeasure at your presence, but there was no longer time for him to argue. You could barely hold the wheel together. Your feet were slipping on the wet floor. 

‘Pull!’ he shouted almost directly into your ear, but he could have been miles away with the thunder roaring over your heads.

‘I am!’ you shouted right back, but clearly, it was not enough.

‘Pull harder than!’ 

I can’t, you wanted to shout back, but that would have been worthless. You were putting in every inch of power you had left in this, yet it would still take much more for the ship to cooperate. By the time you released the helm with certainty, your arms were burning with exhaustion, and your skin was numb from the thousands of pinpricks of the harsh downpour.  

Not that this mattered much. The rest of the ship was still in turmoil. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought a mist had set in from how dense the water came down, covering everything in a grey mass. The wind blew you back three steps for each that you attempted to make. 

You were both breathing heavily, which was hard as it was combined with trying not to swallow the loads of water that came down upon you with each breath you took. Was there even air to breathe at this point? Or had you already sunk into the ocean? Everything felt on top of its head, spinning around. You barely heard what Harrington said as you pulled yourself out of the nausea.

‘What?’ you asked, shouting everything out to come out above the noise. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. Now, what was he apologising for? And why now, as the storm was only growing stronger, it seemed. The two of you still stood side by side at the helm, holding it tightly, but now more for your own sake, anchoring yourself from the wind. Across the ship, you saw the rest of the crew battling with the weather. Munson had stopped shouting out commands and was part of a group trying to keep the mizzenmast up. He had discarded his jacket somewhere along the way, leaving him to let the water soak into his shirt, which stuck to him meticulously. 

‘That are you apologising for,’ you turned quickly to Harrington. Facing his direction only caused the rain to directly attack your face. 

‘For listening to him,’ he shouted. As the storm raged on, you doubted anyone could hear the two of you anymore, no matter how loud you spoke. ‘I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, it was stupid.’

‘But why—why did he tell you to do that?’ 

To your surprise, Harrington laughed. ‘I’ve realised long ago it is better not to understand how his mind works.’ 

You wanted to reply that, no, you did want to understand exactly how his mind worked because it was making you insane when suddenly, a crash sounded over the vessel. All heads turned to starboard, where something must have just crashed bast the railing beams. A large whole gaped at the rest of you; a crate had already fallen out, but it was the least of your worries as you saw an arm hanging on for dear life from one of the broken wood beams. 

Munson was the first person to reach the crewman in peril. He reached for him just in time as the man’s grip slipped off the wood. The captain lay flat on his stomach across the deck. Some more men reached him and tried to pull him in, but the ship shifted again on the waves; nothing was in their favour. 

‘Harrington!’ the captain yelled, but when his voice reached you, it was less than a murmur against the wind. ‘HARRINGTON!’ He looked over toward the helm, and that is when he noticed you. 

You didn’t give him the same amount of attention, for you had a better view of everything around. You could see the stack of men that had now gathered at the broken ship’s side, pulling their mate back to safety, but you also saw the barrel that was lopsiding, threatening to fall over with each hit of the waves. They must have missed it when securing everything in haste. From its position, it seemed that if it would topple over, the barrel would roll directly into the panicked rescue operation. 

Harrington, who had been trying to steer the ship as best as he could in the circumstances, must have seen it too, as you had only taken a step to the side, and he had already grabbed your arm. 

‘Let go off me, or I will give you another black eye!’ You threatened. 

‘Have you gone mad!’ He shouted over the yelling below you. 

‘Yes!’ You couldn’t help but smile and possibly not even far from any truth. The last few weeks were maddening in every possible way. Whatever had or would have happened, there was no denying that you had changed, and the most evident proof was right there as you ran down the stairs in an attempt to save the men that you had thought would lead you to your death. Just as you thought you had reached it in time, the barrel tipped over entirely, hitting the ground and immediately started to roll. It rolled in your direction, the only obstruction in its way.

Without thinking, you let yourself crush against it, shoulder to wood. The pain was intense but passed quickly, and though you had let your feet slip and there was nothing to mask the fall, you had still managed to stop the large piece of refuse from hurting the others. 

You could see them pulling the fallen crewmate back onto the deck when you got up. Shuffling through your memories of what you had encountered and heard the past few days, his name didn’t come up, and yet you felt a huge relief fall off you. 

‘You’re welcome!’ you said, tired and feeling heavy. 

Someone helped Munson get up. His hair was stuck all over his face, but when he brushed it aside, you saw his face—full of anger. He stormed over to you or tried to, considering how the ship had thrown him off-balance. 

‘What should I be thanking you for?’ He spat out, primarily due to all the rain that had soaked into him. 

‘For saving your life!’ You had not expected him to be thankful, that was not who Munson was, but you had not imagined him to be angry. Yet, his eyes were rageful, his jaw tense as he looked at you silently and turned to his men to yell out: 

‘Someone secure that damn wall.’ 

Aye. There were already three men on it, trying to block the wrecked piece of the ship. Any proper reparations would have to wait until the storm had run its course. There was no way for them to sit there with the waves splashing into their faces at such speed and force and nowhere to stand without a risk of falling. 

The captain turned back to you. ‘I told you to stay inside.’

‘If I had, you would have been in the water now!’ You shouted back, ‘clearly, you need as many hands on deck as possible.’

‘Not yours.’ He wiped his face off from the rain, but it poured over him with even more strength. ‘Go back to my quarters. Now.’

‘No.’ You stood your ground, pushing back against Munson’s and the wind’s will.  You would not let yourself be stowed away. He could not take this away from you. He could not take you away. You wouldn’t let him. Not again.

‘That is an order.’ He snapped. 

‘I do not take orders from you.' You may not have been much help, but you had already kept Harrington from losing complete control over the helm and practically saved the captain from falling into the ocean's depths. Still, it was not enough to convince the captain, as his reply was clear and straightforward, despite all the noise that muffled your voices from eachother.

‘You’ll die out here!’ A wave pushed you forward, stumbling into his chest. He held you up by your wrist before you both fell. 

‘So will you!’ You looked him in the eyes, pleading. Unsure for what. Something. Anything.

For a moment, you thought you had won him over, but then he looked around, shouting out names of his crewmen, anyone who could hear him or get close enough to you. But they were all too occupied. Finally, one of the coopers, who was already tying up the barrel you had so swiftly taken care of with the rest of the cargo, ran up at the sound of his name.

‘Take care of her before I do,’ Munson told him. The boy—as he seemed younger than most men on this ship—nodded, but you saw in his face he had nothing over you. Before he could reach for you, you pushed past him towards the captain. 

‘I’m not leaving you.’ Perhaps that were not the words you had meant to say. Maybe you simply wanted to say that you were not about to leave this deck, but those were the words to come out of your mouth.

As a response, he asked the same question that crossed your mind as soon as those words had left your mouth. ‘Why?’ 

‘Because–’ but before you could answer, a pair of arms grabbed you and pulled you away. You screamed out, demanding to be let go, but it was all washed out in the storm. It couldn’t have been the boyish cooper that had taken you; his hold was too firm and strong. Whoever they were, they dragged you back toward the cabin on the captain's orders, towards alleged safety. What would happen if they opened the door to reveal a waterfall streaming past their feet because those bloody windows broke open once more? What then? 

But you felt a pinch of pride in your heart because you knew that some days ago, you would not have dared to stand up to the captain with such defiance. You certainly would not have dared to kick and scratch at the man holding you until he let you go. You would have been shoved into that room and locked away, and maybe it would have been for the better because just moments after you freed yourself, you locked eyes with Munson. He was ready to speak, yell, and so were you, but all of that was washed out by a wave. One larger than you had ever seen before. It towered over the ship, dampening everything in its shadow. And then it crashed down. You had just about managed to take one final breath and heard a scream of your name. 

There was a push, and something hit your head, or was it your head that hit something. Either way—

Everything went black. 

That must be what death feels like. Floating, weightlessly numb. There is darkness, and then there is light. It grows and grows, overcoming the chasm and suddenly, all the pain from before is gone.

It is disorienting at first as you try to understand where you are. It all feels familiar and yet impossible at the same time. You do not know how you got there but know the way perfectly well. You remember it all exactly—that day—like no time had ever passed. It must have been years ago. Long before the wreckage and the fire and the storm and chaos. Long before him. And yet… 

As you come to, but not exactly, you hear the mewing of seagulls. A flock hovers over your head. The sun shines brightly. As you move your hand, blades of grass tickle your fingertips and that smell… the sweet scent of summer. 

There’s a weight on your stomach. A book. You had been reading it for hours under the tree. The large lime tree in the garden, but to call it a garden is an understatement. The branches rock gently in the breeze, shaking their leaves in a greeting. 

You sit up, letting your back rest against the tree bark. In the distance are voices, children playing, merchants selling their produce, and animals roaming freely over the streets like any other day. 

Then you hear it. 

‘Gentlemen, I think we have an agreement then,’ your father says as he emerges from a corridor. You want to jump into his arms, tears already welling up in the corner of your eyes, but that is not how that day had gone. 

Besides, he has company. 

‘Yes, sir,’ a second man replies. ‘The troops are all ready to go.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ your father says. None of them have realised that you were sat there yet, able to hear every word they said. If they had, they would have sent you away. Not because any of their matters are private or a secret, it is just some light conversation between commanders. They would have sent you away because you, as a lady, have no reason to be bothered by such topics. 

You dare to peek a glance at the men accompanying your father. Like all the others before, they must be some kind of officer; their appearance told you as much. You had seen plenty of these types of men. Your father often invited those who harboured their ships in town. No matter where they were from. Although, they seemed to be wearing similar colours to what the soldiers around your house wore. 

You didn’t know either of the two men’s names that day. Why would you? It was the first time you had seen them in a lifetime full of new faces. And it would be several years until you would see them again. Years that would barely change admiral Carver’s appearance. He had maintained his boyish young looks until the day he died. 

By now, you knew you had fallen deep into a dream, but how much of it was fantasy? It felt like a memory, but why were you haunted by demons? Maybe it was your brain filling in gaps, playing tricks on you, covering up a face you had entirely erased from your memory by one you could never forget. That did not seem right, however. The pieces fell too perfectly into place. Just not in any way, you had expected them to. 

It was a trick. It must be. That was, could, not him, after all. His hair was neatly tied back and much shorter, to begin with. Though mostly covered with the shadow of his brimmed hat, his face was fuller, happier, and clean-shaven. His fingers were clean, and light without the weight of those large silver rings, and his clothes were the pristine uniform of the navy, which could not possibly hide a lifetime of scars and tattoos underneath them. It simply could not be.

And yet, when he catches your eye, that same pair of warm brown eyes catch you off guard. He smiles your way, tipping his hat, saying ‘ma’am’ with a smile before catching up to the rest of his entourage.

You awoke in a sheen of cold sweat, but it might have been the storm's remnants. The gentle feeling of grass blades against your fingers was exchanged into a harch grip on the bedsheets you lay upon. The only thing you could hear was your breathing, but behind that was the tap-tap-tapping of rain against the window. That’s where he stood, leaning against the glass by his side, arms crossed as he looked at you. No expression that you could make out in any sense, not because of the lack thereof, but because the emotions came in abundance.

‘What happened?’ Speaking felt like you had inhaled a bucket of sand instead of water; your throat had wholly dried out. 

‘What do you remember?’ the captain walked over to the bed with a cup of water to hand you, which you took with a shaky hand. 

‘Everything… I think.’ One sip had been enough to heal your drought. ‘There was a storm and a wave—’ 

‘Nearly washed us out,’ Munson filled in the gaps. His voice was steady, emotionless. Somehow, that felt worse than if he had been angry. He was holding back on you. ‘You hit your head and been asleep—we assumed you were sleeping—for six hours. More or less.’ But the longer he kept on talking, the more of a shake you felt in him. How he was holding back the rage that had exploded out of the both of you during the storm.

He continued talking. ‘We should be arriving at the harbour of Saint Claire shortly.’

‘I don’t understand,’ you let your fingers ghost over your forehead, which was wrapped in bandages, and a flash of pain blinded you momentarily. 

‘It’s a small island, not far off course. Safer for the night than the waters.’ The storm had calmed down but had not found its rest just yet. 

‘No, I don’t mean that,’ you said, standing up. 

‘Don’t get up,’ He tried to push you back but decided against making contact, which you took as an opportunity to defy his wishes. 

‘Do not tell me what to do, Munson.’ You were tired of it, and his constant commands made you sick…. Or was it the dizziness you felt as you got up too fast? Munson caught you just in time before you would hit your head again. Only then you realised that his shirt was still wet. It stuck to you like it stuck to him. His hair was a mess too. He must have come out of the rain moments ago.

He set you back up on your feet just to bring you back onto the bed. Once your head stopped spinning, you weakly asked: ‘Is everyone okay?’

‘You seem to have gotten the worst of it.’ 

‘Of course,’ you laughed at your own fortune. ‘Look,’ you made a second attempt to get up, hitting the last of the captain’s nerves.

‘Why won’t you ever listen?’ He grunted as he held you up. 

‘Because I don’t want to.’ You swatted away his hands, letting go of him entirely. ‘Will you stop that!’

‘Stop what?’

‘Pretending like you give a damn about me while we both know that I am not worth a dime of your time..’ 

He sighed, pivoting your tangent. 

‘No, sorry, you have your bounty to look forward to, of course, but don’t worry, I will personally write a letter to my father to tell him to just give you all his money, no matter in what state I return home if you will just leave me alone!’

‘Will you please stop yelling.’ He had his head rolled back, looking up at the ceiling. His fists clenched, and he walked around the room to calm down.

‘No! I am tired of this. All of this. I am tired of being treated like vermin.’

‘Vermin?’ He scoffed this time, turning his head to you in disbelief. ‘I’ve given you my clothes, my bed and two perfectly fine meals every day, and that’s what you think this is?’

‘Yes, and I’m very thankful for that, just as I am for being locked in a cage for days and now—what, you’re isolating me from your entire crew like I have the pest?’

‘I did no such thing!’ He was quick to defend himself from the accusation.

‘So, just Harrington then? Do not lie to me, Munson; I saw how he avoided me the whole time, then tried to not sound as if you had not commanded him to not speak to me.’

‘It was his own will that followed that order. I gave him a choice.’ 

‘What was it, listen or die?’ That sounded about right for you. 

‘We do not kill on this ship,’ he said sternly, seriously, almost more severe than you had ever heard him speak. 

‘Only on every other ship?’ With a snap, the window burst open again, letting in the whistling wind and the last drops of rain into the room, but it went unnoticed by the two of you as all the focus lay in the vicious words you threw back and forth.

‘Only those who deserve it. Yes.’ His face was set in anger, and you backed away, not because of his appearance but what he had admitted to. 

‘What did my men deserve? They were innocent!’’ Everyone on the ship must have heard you if they had not already been listening to the rest of the conversation.

‘Of course, we’re all just innocent men, aren’t we?’ He regained his need for theatrics as he spread his arms invitingly, laughing hysterically. ‘Everyone except for me, that is. I am the big scary monster at the bottom of the sea that you should fear. That’s what I am, right, darling? I’m the monster.’ He also began to get louder with each word, his words slurred with exhaustion. That is when you noticed the bottle on the edge of the desk. The rest of the room lay in disarray, but the bottle stood pristinely on the corner of the oaken desktop, uncorked without anything spilt it, but nonetheless half empty. 

‘Are you drunk?’ You reached for the bottle.

‘You wish, princess.’ He laughed. ‘Then maybe I wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. But please, be my guest, drink–’ he pointed at the bottle you were holding, ‘eat, take my clothes, my bed, men, maybe go through all of my belongings once more, read my personal correspondence like its a bloody periodical. Jump of the ship if you please. I do not care.’ He threw his arms up, and something in you tightened. Of course, he knew about you, having read the letter. But should you feel guilty about it now? When he just admitted to targeting your friends? So many things were going through your head, and words you wanted to say to him, but only one question truly encapsulated it all.

‘What is your problem?’ 

‘You.’ He pointed sternly, so there was no confusion on the matter, ‘You are my problem. Have been since the very first day.’

‘Well, if only there had been a solution to that,’ you threw your arms up in faux-surrender, ‘Like maybe, not kidnapping me, or you could have left me to die on my ship or, even better, not ambushing my ship!’ 

‘You were never meant to be on that ship!’ He yelled out, letting out all his frustrations while all of yours disintegrated at that moment, too, as you let his words go through you. The next word you spoke was too overcrowded by confusion to be heard from a distance. 

‘What?’

‘You know you weren’t supposed to be there.’ He blinked, and something in him cracked. A part of him you had never seen before that had come out by mistake and was now vulnerable against everything. ‘It was supposed to be them—him—’ 

‘How do you know that?’ 

‘Because I know them. You speak of what a monster I am, but I know what kind of monsters they are and what they do, and I know you’re not one of them.’ 

‘You don’t know anything about me!’ You gritted your teeth as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. With each sentence spoken between you, unbeknownst to either, utterly subconsciously, you had both pulled at an invisible string. Pulling each other closer and closer until there was nowhere left to pull; the knot tied you down. Inseparable.

Munson looked down at you, the angles of his features suddenly softer, eyes flickering over all the corners of your face. ‘Well, what do you know about me?’

If he had asked you this any other day, any other minute, even if it had been ten seconds before, you would have been able to answer him directly with no hesitation. But, unfortunately, he had asked it right at this moment, as you stood only inches apart. Breathing the same air in and out. Everything around you dampened. It was just you and him. No sound, no light, no touch. Time sped up and slowed down at the same time. You could have stood there for an hour or a second, which would not have mattered.

You were still fighting to find the words when he touched your cheek and pulled you in. His lips practically crashed into yours with the force of a burning sun, and that is what must have burst inside you as he did. All thoughts fizzled away from your mind to the point that the only thing you could think of was his body on yours. The touch between the two of you. His lips on yours, hand on cheek, chest to chest. 

But as smoothly as those thoughts had dissolved, as quickly they rematerialised when he pulled away. And with the moment of clarity, you let your body speak for itself as now your hand met his cheek.

Harshly. 

The impact ghosted your palm as the red mark across his jawline began to form. Following your hand’s movement, he turned his face away but slowly came back to you, and nothing had changed about him. You could not read anything of him. He was a closed book. A tall wall between two cursed lands.

But that is when you realised that something had changed in you. Deep within.

A fracture.

It must have been there for ages, shattering away small pieces here and there as time passed. Each day, no matter how hard you tried to keep them under control, the cracks would grow and grow, ready to burst out whatever it was hiding on the other side. This thing that was hungry for something. Something you had never known you wanted, even needed, but now could not live another second without. As your chest still rose with anger, and the final crack formed, breaking the foundations apart, you leaned in and let your lips meet his for a second time. Without letting another second go to waste, he grabbed you tightly and pulled you in, closing any possible gaps. Bursting through the walls. 

Like a cannon, 

straight through the heart.

The damage was done. 

Chapter 8

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging. I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the Eddie Munson taglist. right here.

taglist (part 1)

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @strangerfreaks @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @vintagehellfire @raven-rust @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @imjusteddietrashatthispoint @lunar-corgimon

@dorianelizabeth @theletterhart@pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreader @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @wroteclassicaly @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington

[yourlocalstranger123]

What if someone hurts dan heng's darling? (Yandere)

WARNING⚠️: not that described but still has gore, torture, etc, described. So if you do not wish to read something so bloody, please ingore this. Ty <3

He would probably go GREAT lengths of torture and then ask you what to do with them.

(Also, just pretend that, uhh, some things exist in there like the poison that i will mention)

He would first drown them, not to the verge of dying, of course. He then would use a knife to put thousands of cuts on them, twist the skin almost to the point of its being able to be peeled off and pour alcohol on the cuts. He would feed them with a very tiny dose of arsenic, and of course, he wouldn't want that sinful person to have permission to see you anymore.

So he gouges out their eyes. Oh? You don't like hearing them scream? He'll carefully not let the person die as he removes their vocal cords and would rip out their jaw so they can't ever mouth any insults. When he's finally done, he'll blindfold you, not wanting to see the horror he's done to the person. Unless you want to of course....

But once you have stepped in, he'll wrap his tail around you as he holds your hand. Asking what to do with that horrible person.

If you ask him to give them mercy and make them die, he'll smash the person's head with his tail or cut their head with the sharpest water. (Since he has the power of water)

And he'll probably clean it up with his powers too, but if he uses his tail, he would asks you nicely, saying please if you could help him wash his tail. (He just wants to be with you, have your attention, and feel your touch)

But if you're an innocent sunshine where you had never seen bloodshed, not used to it, or do not wish to see it, he won't ever let you know or see it. So he automatically kills them.

But if we're taking about the fluff side here, He will get anything to cheer you up. You like ice cream? He gets every flavor you seem to like. You wanna talk about how shitty they are and how hurt you are? He'll sit there listening. You wanna cuddle? He will happily wrap his tail around you as he snuggles against you.

Oh? You want some alone time? Aww..... but he loves you, he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable...(But he will still watch you from afar)

You wanna just sit there and pet his horns and tail? He will sit there still as a statue and acts like a doll. Letting you do anything to him.

If you let him, he will absolutely smother your face with kisses (and maybe worship you the best he can to prove he's way better and that you don't need anyone else...)

[weebsinstash]

Ok! OK! Back to normal posts! Or at least normal for over here!

So I've been getting a lot of Hazbin and Helluva content in my YouTube feed recently and, as an interesting but also kind of disappointing fact, the way a Sinner dies directly influences how they appear in Hell. If you drown on a sinking ship like Baxter (scrapped side character who still has an enamel pin for some reason?), you might have an aquatic fishy look. Angel Dust died of a drug overdose, and he now has a prominent heart on his chest symbolizing the heart attack he died from

So, like. Obviously there are cool ideas on how maybe you could catch attention or appear down there, but, could you imagine how fucked you would be with like literally any yandere HH/HB character if you go down there very obviously dead from suicide. Platonic, romantic, sexual, it doesn't matter. You can't keep that shit secret

Charlie meets you and you're like a zebra with horizontal stripes and she thinks you just look so neat and interesting, and wow you're so sweet amd fun actually, what are you doing down here? And then she sees you have stripes going vertically down one or both of your forearms and she suddenly feels a little hope die inside of her because, what does it MEAN for someone like you to be in HELL for... suicide? That's not your fault! That's so sad! She would vow to be your new best friend and do her best to give you an amazing afterlife to make up for all the time you didn't get to have "up top"

Angel accidentally walks in on you changing and sees you have a heart on your chest and is in instant sibling mode because he knows the second Val sees that he'll go crazy for it since he loves that aesthetic (Also extra bad luck if you're chesty and the heart is like in between your boobs or like you know nestled in your cleavage or whatever because then you're getting forced into constant push-up bras) but, also, if you were an addict, that means you're vulnerable. For Val, that makes you a target, and for Angel that means you're probably miserable and spiraling like him and he doesn't want to see you go down the same roads he has

Alastor who meets a version of you that has a certain old timey kinda twang or is kinda theatrical and showtuney in your voice/mannerisms and maybe you glow a little and it's because you put your radio in the bathtub 💀 definitely don't let your extra special "platonic friend" find out you killed yourself from crippling loneliness, partially caused by not having a partner!

Valentino who sees you're literally blue-faced with a certain pattern around your neck and instantly knowing that this interesting little cutie he's curious about is an emotionally vulnerable mark. It won't be TOO hard to pour drinks down your throat and maybe lend you some of this joint until you're spilling all your intimate secrets, he figures

Blitz already has multiple instances of family trauma and feeling rejected and isolated, so how do you think he's gonna empathize if you're some.... yellow skinned aquatic demon who literally drank like a fish and died of liver failure/alcohol poisoning. The imp watching you get piss drunk all over again and bawling how you're a failure and no one will love you? You're crashing on his couch tonight cuz he doesn't wanna leave you alone. And also the next night. And the next. And the next.

Stolas certainly would be awfully sympathetic to a teen or adult child abused by their family and ending their life because of it, coming down to Hell with spots like a dalmatian or leopard from where you were beaten, and bright red on one specific patch of your hair from where you hit the ground after jumping from a great height

Annnnnnnd as a bonus, Asmodeus and a Darling with visible handprints on their neck who was choked to death during sex, so not only is he horribly protective of you as someone killed by a lover, the act of even being lovers something he considers pretty intimate and important, but also because you've now got these horrible sex related traumas and.... honey baby cutiepie, he's gotta fix all that if the two of you are gonna bone down something nasty. You're at least gonna let him cuddle, right 🥺

[nightgoodomens]

Satan: Hey, God?

God: Why do you always call me so late?

Satan: I’m the child of darkness.

God: You’re my child, you idiot.

Satan: Oh we’re back to parenting responsibilities? Hilarious. Anyway. Can you watch Hell for me for one night?

God: What? No!

Satan: Come onnnnn.

God: I can send Metatron over.

Satan: Ew. No.

God: Why not?

Satan: He had Aziraphale leave Crowley and you want him to watch my home? Don’t be sick.

God: Aziraphale made his own choice.

Satan: A stupid ass choice, but I’m not here to argue, I’m busy with important things.

God: Why do you want a night off?

Satan: Crowley invited me out.

God: You’re… you’re going on a date?

Satan: Why, you’re jealous?

God: Of who?

Satan: Touché. Your son is asleep not making any more wine, so we’re going to nightclubs to get shitfaced, and probably die of alcohol poisoning. If you just watched the space for one night…

God: You’re not supposed to be going to Earth!

Satan: Said who?

God: Me!

Satan: Well, you don’t make the rules here, so.

God: It is in your contract!

Satan: Actually, Crowley read my contract and explained it all to me, and said it’s bullshit and you can’t hold me accountable to anything, because when you casted me out any contracts between us broke, so having Metatron spew out this bullshit just before you kicked me out was a waste of time.

God: …

Satan: :)

God: …

Satan: I will go and get dressed then. CROWLEY, WE ARE GOING OUT.

[dawndelion-winery]

Hii can i request streamer Childe,Xiao,Kaeya,Kazuha x online friend!reader?(separate) Like sometimes reader streams with them and LITERALLY his fans can tell that he's inlove with reader.💞

I can already imagine those ship edits on tiktok...👀🍵

Hello, I'm sorry it took so long to get to this- I hope you like it (also added Scara<3) now for streamer duos<3

Streamlined

Streamer au! Ft. Childe, Xiao, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche

Childe:

Often streams your co-op for the sheer chaotic energy of it

Tries his best to be family friendly which results in very amusing variations of swearing from him or you jabbing him in the gut when he's about to curse

“You’re so mean to me, comrade. What happened to me being your favourite person? Look at how you wound me.”

He gets insufferable, clinging to your arm and resting his chin on your shoulder

He’s disgustingly affectionate even on camera

“Why do I play this character so often? Well obviously because y/n thinks they’re hot and this’ll make them associate being hot with me therefore they’ll think I’m hot.”

He sounds so sure of himself, people just roll with it because it’s hilarious to see him try

The most popular streams are the ones where Teucer crashes because it looks like a cute lil family all gaming together

Xiao:

Surprisingly calm

Has a tendency to go quiet when he's focused on the game, so that's when he thought it'd be a good idea to have you narrate for him

Sometimes Zhongli or Ganyu brings in some cut fruit for you two

Funnily enough, neither of you would remember to eat the fruit on your own, but somehow manage to remember to feed the other bites of fruit to make sure they're hydrated

Cue those compilation videos "Take a shot every time Xiao and Y/n feed each other"

Please don't actually take those shots, you will die from alcohol poisoning

Xiao honestly highkey gives off gamer boyfriend energy, and people probably would've assumed you were already dating when you started streaming together

They only realised you were both dense idiots when someone light-heartedly commented that it's a shame both of you were taken and you two looked confused

Kaeya:

Calm on the surface, is actually worse than Childe

Family friendly? Nahhhh, he said he'd try at first but the moment he teams up with Rosaria, the innuendos and swearing never end, as much as you try to censor it

Nowhere nearly as shameless either, but viewers still somehow notice his hand creeping across the desk to hold yours

Has the not so subtle "please date me" eyes when he looks at you and it's now a meme

"Get someone who looks at you the way Kaeya looks at y/n," Kaeya chuckles as his eyes flicker between his twitch chat and his game. "So who'll look at me that way?"

*Shocked Kaeya face* when someone replies no one because he'll be the one doing the wistful, longing stares

He is hurted /lh

"Y/n my dear, my darling, the twitch chat has spoken and they've said you should date me"

"Isn't this the same chat that said you should dye your hair pink?"

He's never recovering from that one

He does light up when you ruffle his hair though

Something his viewers pick up almost immediately (they're bloodhounds, I tell ya)

Kazuha:

The true comfort streamer

He just has such a gentle, soothing voice

And it's hilarious because he keeps that calm smile and tone even when the scenes get vicious

He tends to finish your sentences for you when you stream together

Lastly when you trail off at the thought of how dark the lore is

"Wait so that means we'll have to..."

"Sacrifice the children, start an uprising, and ultimately overthrow the king to take his loot for ourselves<3"

He scares everyone at times

It's so easy to forget he says things like that when he takes your hands in his and comforts you when you get spooked by some horror games

"Is my maple alright? Of course you are, what could touch you when I'm here?" he says as he kisses the back of your hand

Scaramouche:

Bastard. Why are you even friends with him

His snide comments about enemy mobs or rival players are always hilarious, and he has the best insults

Surprisingly doesn't swear as much as you'd expect him to when trash talking

"Oh you think you're so clever~ I don't want to hear that from someone who looks like they pulled their nose from a dying giraffe's tongue, you lemur-faced buffalo wing."

Does, however, swear extremely frequently on a regular basis

"Scara's 'what the fuck' count exceeds 500 per week not clickbait!!!"

Even you aren't exempt from his snarkiness and people wonder why you're friends with him

Until they notice how his insults towards you aren't exactly mean

Also he tends to cuss in his insults only when he's not serious so "You're so fucking stupid" roughly translates to "You're my favourite idiot"

Taglist[send an ask to be added]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @euphoric-author @paradise-creator @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @serenenation @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @howlantic @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @stunningstratagem @sadlonelybagel

[mrsprongs]

- D0 IT AGAIN  -

Pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

Summary: mattheo supposedly hates you, until he sees you at a party with another guy.

Warnings: pure smut, swearing, tad bit of violence, heavily unedited writing.

The noise was deafening in the Slytherin common room. Music was blaring and people were screaming over the top of one another as they threw back glass after glass of Bin juice, not Mattheo’s preferred beverage by any means, yet he too was sipping away at it. He was sitting on a couch off to the side, exuding the air of someone not overly bothered by the spectacle before him. He was, however, bothered by one particular part of the scene. Y/N Y/L/N had brought Cormac McLaggen and was letting his dirty hands feel her up as they danced in the crowd of people. He hated Y/N, and he hated Cormac. The two of them together was a complete piece of work. 

He was another couple of drinks in when Y/N collapsed into the coach, right beside him, holding a bottle of White Rat Whiskey. He raised an eyebrow at the sloshed girl, who would never in a million years have sat next to him if she wasn’t inebriated.

“Fuck off, Y/L/N.” He snapped, sounding disgusted yet betraying himself by allowing his eyes to linger on her exposed chest for a moment too long. 

“Why are you mad?” She giggled, oblivious to his wandering gaze.

“I’m not mad, I just disapprove of your taste in men.”

“What’s wrong with Cormac?” She asked innocently, shooting Mattheo the doe eyes he’s only ever seen her use on the cute older boys at parties.

“The colour of his robes.” He retorted, rolling his eyes and struggling to look away. She was awfully close, her sweet perfume filling up his senses. “Why don't you go back to your boyfriend?” 

“It’s much more fun getting you all pent up like this.” She smirked, drunkenly leaning towards him. Mattheo didn’t move a muscle, staring at her as she tilted her head back, lips encircling the tip of the bottle, soft hair falling over her shoulders. His jaw clenched as she swallowed, crude images springing to life in his mind. He quickly averted his eyes, resuming his nonchalant attitude, while being painfully aware of her presence next to him. She looked back over at him, staring off into the distance, clearly pissed off. She felt a lump in her throat form as she realised she was a nuisance, an annoyance. Her cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment she stood up uneasily, swaying in her heels. “Fine, I will go back.” She mumbled, taking a step forward and almost falling right into Mattheo’s lap. Instinctively, his hands shot to her waist to help steady her as her left hand grabbed onto his shoulder for support. She looked down at him and their eyes locked for a brief moment before a hand wrapped around her hips and she was pulled into someone’s chest.  

“It’s alright mate, I’ve got her.” Cormac said smugly as he dragged Y/N away. Mattheo’s hands felt like they were on fire as he dragged them through his dark locks. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” Theodore remarked as he held the bottle of firewhiskey away from Mattheo. The party was still raging even though the sun was not far away from rising. Mattheo shook his head lazily, yanking the bottle out of Theodore’s grasp and taking a swig, his eyes locked on Y/N and Cormac across the room. She was leaning her entire weight on him, clearly out of it. Her hands were fisted into his shirt and Mattheo watched as his hands shamelessly roamed her body. She probably couldn’t even feel him doing it.

“Someone needs to take her back to her dorm.” Mattheo gritted through his teeth. 

“I’m sure Cormac will eventually.” Theodore said breezily, his attention now on the joint he was carefully rolling. “Wouldn’t you want her to die from alcohol poisoning anyway. How much have you seriously had to drink?” Theodore looked slightly concerned at his friend’s change in attitude, yet Mattheo had never felt more clear-minded, emotions that had been suppressed bubbling to the surface. He knew full well, even this intoxicated, that he could take Cormac in a fight. Easily. But he knew how upset Y/N would be. Even if he might not hate her as much as he said he did, she despised him. Cormac dipped his head and mumbled something into Y/N’s ear. She shook her head, frowning slightly. He gripped Y/N’s shoulders and pulled her towards the exit, despite her attempts to break free from his grasp. Nobody else seemed to notice. 

“Fuck it” Mattheo spat, marching towards Cormac and clocking him right in the nose. He screamed in pain and doubled over. 

“What the-” Y/N started to yell before Mattheo placed his hands on her biceps and steered her towards her shocked looking friend. 

“She needs to go to bed.” Mattheo transferred Y/N over as an audience began to form around the bloodied Cormac. “Now.” He practically spat. He turned back around to finish off the Gryffindor boy, only to see him quite literally running out of the common room. 

Mattheo was lying on his bed, twirling his wand in his fingers. Classes had finished and most people had dispersed, wasting time before dinner, yet Mattheo hadn’t felt like socialising much, deciding to retire early. A knock sounded on his door, peaking his interest. His roommates had never knocked once in their lives, but who else would visit? Mattheo trodden over to the door, swinging it open to reveal the very girl that was plaguing his mind. 

“Y/N?” He said, the use of her first name catching her off guard. “What do you want?” He sighed, once again putting on an act while his heart started to race at just how close he was standing to her. 

“I wanted to say thank you. You know, for last night.” Y/N was wringing her hands together, looking everywhere but at Mattheo. He stepped back, letting her into the room and closing the door behind her. 

“I figured you’d be pissed. Messing up pretty boy’s face and all.” Y/N shrugged and an awkward silence settled over the room. 

“That was it really.” She finally spoke, “I just wanted to say thanks.” She began to pivot when he closed the distance between them. Her eyes widened as his face stopped mere inches from hers. She had no choice but to look at him. Before she could even process anything, he leant down and pressed his lips to hers tenderly Her eyes fluttered shut as her lips began to slowly move against his. Mattheo’s heart was pounding against his chest as he pulled back, snapping back to reality. A small whimper escaped Y/N’s throat as he broke contact, the small, desperate noise causing something in his core to burn. 

“Mattheo.” She almost whispered, hating that he was going to make her ask for it.

“Mmm” He hummed, their noses almost brushing from their close proximity. 

“Do it again.” She breathed as he hesitantly placed his hand on the back of her neck. She tipped her head up as he closed the gap between them again, slightly more forcefully this time. She dug her hands roughly into his dark curls, spurring him on as the kiss became feverish. Mattheo’s hands roamed all over her body, squeezing and rubbing. Y/N moaned into his mouth as he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. He used this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, interlocking their lips again, hot and intense. Mattheo pulled back slightly to catch his breath, smiling as Y/N tried to move with him. 

“Eager are we?” He laughed slightly, looking down at her with ravenous eyes. 

“I fucking hate you.” She rolled her eyes as his teasing comment.

“No you don’t. Take that back.” Y/N was almost shocked by his shift in demeanour, confused as to why he cared that she hated him. He hated her back right? His hand closed around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her slightly light-headed. “Take it back.” He repeated, looking almost nervous for her response. 

“I don’t hate you.” Y/N whispered. His grip on her neck loosened as he aggressively latched back on to her lips, both of them moaning shamelessly. He took a few steps back, guiding her with him as he sat down on the edge of his bed. Mattheo’s hands firmly on her waist, he pulled her down to straddle his lap. Y/N could feel how hard he was underneath her. Subconsciously she began to drag herself over him as his mouth moved to suck on the sensitive skin on her neck. She tugged sharply at his hair, earning a small whimper from Mattheo. His clothed dick was straining against his pants from the friction as Y/N practically dry humped him. 

“Fucking hell Y/N” Mattheo groaned into her collarbone, “If you don’t stop that I’m going to cum right now.” He continued to litter marks over her skin as he slipped his fingers into her panties, replacing his hard dick with his hand as he dragged his fingers over her dripping folds. Y/N bit her lip as he spread her open, slowly sliding one finger in as the pad of his thumb brushed deliciously slowly over her clit. She moaned his name as he slid two more fingers in her, slowly rolling them back and forth inside her. Her hips started to move again as she ground her clit down into the palm of his hand, the moans spilling from her mouth as her climax approached was almost sending Mattheo over the edge with her. 

“Fuck, Theo.” She mumbled as her orgasm washed over her, his fingers continuing their assault. He didn’t mention it, but the nickname caused his stomach to flip and his cheeks to warm. Skillfully he moved her off his lap and onto her back, head against the pillows as he crawled over her. She watched as he undid each and every button on her school blouse, lifting her up a little to slide it off her completely before discarding it on the floor. He pulled his own shirt off swiftly, exposing the most gorgeously crafted abs Y/N had ever laid eyes on. His biceps bulged as he propped himself up above her and began to kiss her gently again. Y/N couldn’t remember why she hated him. How could she hate him? He was so…so…so perfect. Her hands came to cup his face, pressing his lips down harder as she hitched her legs up around him. Her skirt was pushed up around her waist and, without breaking the kiss, Mattheo carefully pulled it down her legs, followed by her panties. His body was so warm and comforting that it took her a moment to realise she was completely naked and by that point she didn’t have it in her to care. She was too focused and satiating her hunger for him. His eyes raked up and down her, chest rising and falling impossibly fast as he felt a physical ache to meld his body to her. Y/N dragged her fingers down his chiselled midriff, stopping at his belt buckle and quickly undoing it. In a flash he had freed himself of his pants and was lining himself up, pumping his rock hard cock a couple of times first. He paused, eyes flicking up to Y/N’s. 

“Tell me you want me.”

“Huh?” She asked, brain slightly foggy and eyes glazed.

“Beg for me.” His lips twitched up into his signature smirk, the smirk made Y/N’s chest tighten and she inhaled sharply as he stared into his eyes (those eyes!).

“Please, Theo, I want you so bad.” The pure thrill those words sent down Mattheo’s spine was unmatchable. 

“I know you do, baby.” He uttered before pushing himself into her, not giving her time to analyse the pet name. He groaned loudly into her ear as he bottomed out completely while she practically screamed out his name, closing her eyes from the mix of pain and pleasure as he stretched her out. Her hands clung onto his shoulders as he slowly dragged himself out of her before plunging back in. Mattheo dropped his head into the crook of her neck as he repeatedly thrusted into her. She was ridiculously tight, squeezing around his cock. As his pace quickened, Y/N’s back arched up towards him, head pushed back into the pillows, a string of praises spilling from her lips, causing an audible whimper to escape Mattheo. He continued to buck into her harshly, and Y/N’s fingers started to dig into his skin, scratching and scraping her nails down his toned back as the pleasure became too much.

“He could never make you feel like this, make you feel this good.” Mattheo’s jealous streak showing as Y/N squirmed from the building pressure in her core. 

“Only you, Theo, only you.” She whined loudly.

“Fuck” He whimpered again at her praise, returning his thumb to her clit and drawing sloppy circles. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat from the overwhelming sensations, moaning out his name again and again. 

“Don’t stop, Theo, fuck-” She cried out as she fisted her hands into his curls one more and tugged relentlessly. She could feel how incredibly tight his muscles were above her as his movements became more ragged. 

“I’m gonna cum,” He moaned, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close.” She couldn’t even bring herself to respond as she felt an explosion in her core, her body spasming slightly as wave after wave of pleasure hit her like nothing she had ever experienced before. She clenched hard around Mattheo’s dick and his whole body stilled as his dick twitched inside her, ropes of thick, hot cum spurting out of him. They both stayed still for a moment, dazed and drunk on pleasure. The only sound was their heavy breathing as Mattheo cum was stuffed inside Y/N. He moved his head slightly to press a few kisses to the spot just below her ear as his hands softly travelled up and down her sides. He pulled out of her, their mixed cum dripping out from between her legs. He rolled onto his back beside her as they stared at the top of the four-poster bed. Y/N’s mind raced as she tried to read Mattheo, figure out what he was thinking. Should she leave? Did he still hate her? Was this a one-time thing? Suddenly she felt his arm reach around her and pull her into him, interrupting her thoughts. He looked down at her as her brief confusion melted away and she rested her head on his chest, his fingers lazily tracing the length of her spine.